The Power of One

Catherine Dabels

One of Art à la Carte's feature projects has been to create a gallery of photographs along the hallway that connects the Foothills Hospital with the Special Services/Tom Baker Cancer Centre. It is a narrow yet forbidding hallway that is travelled by hundreds of people on a daily basis. The project is known as "The Footprints Gallery" and hosts a variety of themes ranging from destinations such as Europe, the West Coast and Rocky Mountains to western art, nature and photos of children.

The following story involves one particular oncology physician who travels that hallway often:

The Power of One

I walk the long hall to my office and there are days when I feel heavy. On these days I feel the sadness of my work. The weight of what I do is cumbersome.

(Image by Tara Whittaker)

I am steeped in sadness.

But then I see these pictures of this boy. He is alive and I remember what I do and the impact it has on the living.

Today I noticed his hair. The thickness of it. The cut. The highlights. Despite the fact that the picture is in black and white, I can see his highlights. I can’t help but wonder if he loves the sun like I do. I wonder if he spends his time kicking a ball or rummaging through dirt looking for worms. Does he love the park or riding his bike? It doesn’t matter.

The sun has kissed his hair.

(Image by Tara Whittaker)

Yesterday I noticed his eyes. His large dark eyes. He is so intent on what he is doing. He offers me the only thing he possesses in this one moment. As he eats it his eyes tell me he’s good at his job. He studies it and I wonder what he is thinking. Is he enjoying it? He must be for he wants to share. I can see it in his eyes. His world is what’s in his hand right now. I imagine he is thinking only of that.

I want his focus. No. His contentment. Even just for a short time.

Last week it was his skin I noticed. His cheeks. The line of his nose. That soft spot right underneath his eyebrow. I stopped to study him. His perfect, soft, juicy childish neck. Flawless. I wish I could remember that time in my life when I looked in the mirror and saw only me and what I was instead of what I wasn’t or what I used to be. Or what I should be. I hope he sees his own perfection.

He is perfect.

Tomorrow I will notice his age. He is young and loved. He must be, for someone has studied his moves and captured every one of them. I wonder who loves this child. This sweet child who lifts my spirits and doesn’t even know. He has no idea he impacts my day and brings me peace. This is a hard world where people do hard things every minute of everyday. He is only eating a snack but he is lifting me up.

(Image by Tara Whittaker)

It’s as if he is waiting there. Just for me.

He is life.

He makes a difference. It is just a series of pictures hung on the wall. One little boy.

He is lifting me up. Life amongst death.

And I want him to know his power.