Paid the price for

 

Filiz was the favourite nurse in the hospital. She valued people simply for being human. She was lively, active, and always with a smile on her face. The way she communicates with the patients were exceptional.

Once a patient came to the hospital and took treatment from Filiz, they would always ask for Filiz again on their next visit.

She was full of life, always energetic, and started each day with a cheerful “Good morning.” To her, greeting the day with a smile and positive energy was very important. Despite carrying many burdens on her shoulder, she would hide her pain and smile not only with her face but with her eyes also. Every morning, she would go for a walk, ride her bike, pick flowers and fruits from the roads and would return home.

She knew every plant, every tree, and would even stop her car to smell flowers along the way. After her morning workout routine, she would get ready quickly and head off to work with her coffee cup in hand. On weekends, she would spend quality time with her children, do house chores, iron their uniforms, and prepare for the new week. Complaining about work like “Ugh, there’s work tomorrow” was unheard of from her. Instead, she would happily say, “I wonder to whom I’ll be able to help this week,” as she headed to the hospital.

 Ten years ago, she had lost her husband and was left to raise three children, becoming both mother and father. She was a mother fighting through life’s struggles. Her biggest goal was to raise her children well and she did her best  to achieve that.

It was another Sunday, and she was getting ready for a new week. As she was ironing her uniforms, something caught her eye. She noticed that the fabric of her uniform’s pockets had become fuzzy. Holding the iron in her hand, Filiz lost in her toughts.

“Ohhh, this price,” she sighed.

Like the oxygen in the air—spread throughout all of life.

“There’s a mark of the paid price everywhere,” she said.

Look at the pockets of my uniforms. How they’are worn.

Put the phone in the pocket, take it out, and from the                , it’s all worn down.

How many calls do I answer? How many people do I call?

Ahhh, how many paid prices are hidden in these worn out pocket?

Call each of the kids three or four times a day.

Did you come home from school?

Did you eat?

Did you do your homework?

Dozens of patients call. They ask about medication, about their diet—so many questions.

Call the school, call the teacher, the canteen, the bus service...

So many tears, so much news, so many joys, annoyances, and stresses are hidden in these worn out pockets.

How could someone be both so tired and so strong?

Just like my worn out uniform pockets. Worn but durable. Tired but strong.

These two  contrasts  dancing together in harmony. My pockets that both cry and laugh. Filled with both sorrow and joy.

My wrinkled skin...

My worn-out hands...

My graying hair...

My eyes that can no longer see up close...

My fuzzy uniform...

My aging phone...

My old, loyal car...

My home...

My worn-out nurse slippers with holes in the soles...

Blood pressure monitor that sometimes break down

The worn floorings, doors, and windows of the hospital I’ve worked for 20 years...

The faded “2nd Floor” button in the elevator from years of pressing...

So many witnesses.

No one could deny the prices I paid.
There are marks of what’s been paid in everywhere

Traces of the life I’ve lived, in what’s left of it, in my belongings, in everything...

The cost has been embroidered into everything like a colorful piece of embroidery.

All of them; so precious, so meaningful, full of memory...

Human being leave traces in their lives with what they have done and what they have not done. Those traces are proof for what people have put effort into.  So, what we value in the life becomes our emotion.

The Experiential Design Teaching states: “A person values what they have paid the price for ”