The Gentle Giant Has a Name!

Meet the "Gentle Giant."  His name is Dell, like the computer, he says, but without the money!

If you remember THIS POST about our first meeting with this gentle giant, you will remember how much I admired Dell because, in spite of what life dealt him, the Gentle Giant, now known as Dell, faced life making lemonade instead of feeling bitter about the lemons.

Dell used to be a machinist.  With no warning, Dell was struck down by a stroke.  He lost 10% of his brain function so that he could no longer earn a living as a machinist.  His recovery was long and painful.  He told me that one day as he was wallowing around in his grief, he told his mother, "I love 10% of my brain."  She told him, "Good grief, son!  You have 90% of your brain left!"  That was a life changing moment for Dell.  He realized he DID have 90% of his brain left and a whole lot of living to do!

Today, Dell works as an Ambassador for the University of Minnesota's Fairview Hospital where Jenny had her stem cell transplant.  Dell meets and greets and escorts and gives hope to so many of those he sees every day.  He saw Jenny, yesterday, when she had her 1 year checkup.  (Can you believe it's been 1 year since Jenny's stem cell transplant?)  Dell smiled when he saw Jenny.  He said, "You are looking so good!  Your eyes have always been full of life, and they are today!  You look like you're feeling really good, too!"  Of course, we both smiled.  Later Dell saw me in the hall and he told me how proud he was of me!  He said, "Without you Moms, we couldn't make it." 

What an amazing man is this Gentle Giant!

The Gentle Giant

I met a gentle giant the other day.  I don't have a picture of him, and I don't know his name, but he's a giant of a man in every way.  His skin is the color of rich, dark chocolate, and his smile is filled with teeth that are white, very white.  Actually, Jenny and I both met him when Jenny went to her first physical therapy appointment for cancer patients.  He was one of the people in charge of parking cars.  He ran the desk. 

The minute he saw Jenny, he said, "You look great!  That smile that you wear makes you look so good!"  Of course, we both smiled.  He said, "You know, I had 3 surgeries on my brain.  The hardest part was the therapy, but you aren't going to have any trouble with that!  Look how good you look!"   

This gentle giant of a man, wounded severely and bruised by life, made Jenny and I smile.  He went out of his way to answer our questions and to help me get the parking situation all straightened out.  In all that time, he never quit smiling.  What a simple truth he lives!  He chose to be happy!  He could have wallowed in the depth of despair with such severe health problems, but he chose to live and make other people's lives better.  His smile electrified the room. 

I don't know his name.  I don't know if I'll ever see him again, but I would ask you to whisper a little prayer for this gentle giant.  I am praying that his life will be blessed.   I know that mine has been blessed.   I'm a better person for having met him--the gentle giant.

My Gentle Giant - Spike

That's what a worker called Spike today when he saw him.
I had never thought of that.
Spike, the Gentle Giant.