Gratitude - Ask A Nurse

After spending as much time in hospitals as I have this year, I’ve had a lot of conversations with nurses.  Nurses are great to talk with for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that they’re in the trenches taking in more detail than any one body could ever possibly assimilate. They’re the complete package and if it doesn’t become glaringly obvious, I have the greatest respect for nurses of all stripes.

If you want to know what is really happening, talk to a nurse. A doctor will typically hedge around what’s going on rather than commit until a decision has been made. When joking about what is TMI (too much information), doctors will say, “You can’t tell us too much information,” while the nurses will open their eyes just a tad wider and mouth out, “Uh, yes…yes, you can.” Yeah, they still really do want to know everything from the color of your sputum to the consistency of your poop and they have a wonderful way of asking you about it!

I won’t idolize nurses here, but I will be very up front again in saying I hold most nurses I’ve worked with in the highest esteem. I can’t tell you exactly what makes a great nurse, but it just seems that the profession seems to attract the most amazing collection of attributes wrapped up in a heart of compassion that never stops amazing me with the limits it stretches. That’s not to say that there are people who shouldn’t be in the field and I’ve worked with them as well. In rare cases, there seems to be some sort of self-policing already in place and the conscientious nurses tend to shield the more sensitive patients from, shall we say the rare underachiever.

And that’s not to say the good ones don’t make mistakes. We all make mistakes. I had an instance where a nurse overlooked one small detail and even though it wasn’t serious enough to even register on a test, it required that I stay an extra day in the hospital. This person felt so bad about it that it brought tears and this person whom I honestly felt had it together couldn’t face me until the following day when there was an out-and-out apology. How many people do you know take on the importance of their job that fully and emotionally? Sure, you trust certain professions with your life and without doubt, medicine is one of them, but it would be just as easy to become jaded over time to emotionally protect oneself from the trauma of that responsibility.

After multiple inpatient stays involving many, many days with the kind of minute details with overlapping medical teams that have involved the complexity of leukemia not to mention the myriad of unexpected hitches along the way, there have been other mistakes, but they have honestly been minor and because I and those around me in caregiving roles pay close attention to everything that is happening, I’ve been able to get resolution on everything before moving forward – without exception. No nurse has given me a sigh about my questions. If anything, I’ve been cheerfully informed down to the most routine pill every time I’ve been handed one and encouraged to ask all manner of question right down to my relationship with that nurse - and that did come up in one instance early on, but again, not serious and not personal.

Unless you’ve been hospitalized for any length of time, you’ll not have experienced the acute loss of modesty and dignity that come part-and-parcel with anything debilitating.  Nurses have a way of stripping the embarrassment away and helping you just heal as best your body can. Some medications do funky things to you. They take away your ability to take care of basic bodily functions, make you say st-OO-pid things, and turn you into someone else for a time. I’ve experienced this quite a few times, but in extreme terms when I was in the MICU; the nurses there just smiled and helped me through it, especially when there were the foreign looking appliances you only see in medical supply store ads for the elderly.

And then there have been the most compassionate, sweetest things that elicit tears even today. Nurses actually saw me for who I was through my weakness. They listened to my kvetching or fear in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep or during those long chemo/IV sessions. A couple that stand out as examples were during my initial hospitalization in February and March earlier this year. I was struggling through this cancer diagnosis mentally and hadn’t really processed it. I mean, what do you say when you don’t even know the questions to ask? When a doctor gives you a 90-day death sentence, there’s not much more beyond the here-and-now. My guilty indulgence has been chocolate my whole life, so once every so often, I stop by my favorite coffee haunt and grab a mint mocha coffee which makes the rest of the day unassailable. I awoke in my mechanical hospital bed one morning to see a venti Starbuck’s mint mocha on my tray with “Don’t Give Up” written on the cup. I found out later a nurse had brought that in for me. Timing couldn’t have been any better. When I finally had my first emotional meltdown of this illness, it was a nurse in-training (the VA system calls them ‘health techs’) who brought me a warmed blanket, tucked me in bed with practiced gentle hands, and then let me regain my dignity back.

They might be simple things otherwise considered ‘gestures’ by anyone else, but to me at that time, they were huge. They were what I needed at the time and these two were perceptive enough to pick up where no medical protocol would have prescribed anything. Perhaps it’s that compassion combined with intuition – that space between the symptom and the intangible – that makes a great nurse from someone pulling a shift. I still can’t say, but I know I’ve experienced some great nursing and I can say without a doubt that I have had some world-class care that without these incredible nurses, would be a very sterile experience.

I’ve made a point of dropping off gifties to the nurses stations I’ve been attended by, but there’s really no way to extend how genuinely grateful I am to nurses for the kind of care I have received – and continue to receive throughout my treatment. I’m pretty vocal about telling people to thank cops, firefighters, and veterans, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t add nurses to that growing list.

To all the nurses, health techs, and others that attend me and my host of infirm campadrés, my heart-felt thanks to you all. You deserve far more than you get and should be paid far more than you’re compensated.  You’re definitely worth your weight in gold.

Be well, stay strong, and much love to you all…and if you do find yourself un-well, I hope you see just how awesome nurses are.

Today’s music from George Michael – Heal the Pain

Let me tell you a secret, put it in your heart and keep it
Something that I want you to know
Do something for me, listen to my simple story
And maybe we'll have something to show

You tell me you're cold on the inside
How can the outside world be a place that your heart can embrace
Be good to yourself
'Cause nobody else has the power to make you happy

How can I help you? Please let me try to
I can heal the pain that you're feeling inside
Whenever you want me, you know that I will be
Waiting for the day that you say you'll be mine

He must have really hurt you
To make you say the things that you do
He must have really hurt you
To make those pretty eyes look so blue

He must have known that he could
That you'd never leave him
Now you can't see my love is good
And that I'm not him

How can I help you? Please let me try to
I can heal the pain, won't you let me inside?
Whenever you want me, you know that I will be
Waiting for the day that you say you'll be mine

Won't you let me in, let this love begin?
Won't you show me your heart now?
I'll be good to you, I can make this thing true
Show me that heart right now

Who needs a lover that can't be a friend
Something tells me I'm the one you've been looking for, oh
If you ever should see him again
Won't you tell him you've found someone who gives you more?

Someone who will protect you, love and respect you
All those things that he never could bring to you
Like I do or rather I would
Won't you show me your heart like you should?

How can I help you? Please let me try to
I can heal the pain that you're feeling inside
Whenever you want me, you know that I will be
Waiting for the day that you say you'll be mine

Won't you let me in, let this love begin?
Won't you show me your heart now?
I'll be good to you, I can make this thing true
And get to your heart somehow

This is Hardly Routine

Things that I talk about on my blog are never intended for attack, but rather to encourage to do and be better, if for no other reason than because we see them as the things to do. My blog is, more often than not, simply a collection of observations because I’ve been put into a unique set of circumstances; my hope is that you see my ramblings as exactly that. What you do with them is, of course, up to you. To expect anything else would be hypocritical and extremely presumptuous on my part. And I hope you get a chuckle from time to time in spite of the underlying subject!

That said, I’m not the kind of person to ponder the philosophical underpinnings of what is.  If anything, I like to poke life in the eye a little bit, be a little flippant with that thing we call "perception," and try to be a bit self-deprecating somewhere along the way. It helps maintain some modicum of sanity for me in the midst of what seems like a buzz of chaotic reverberations of insanity and insensitivity – stuff I just cannot reconcile some days! Grant me a small indulgence and perhaps you’ll understand my meaning rather than seeing me as a touch pompous.  If you know me at all, you’ll know I’m being far from pretentious

While I've been hospitalized, I got this handy little personal hot spot that allows me Internet access for movies and other things to keep me connected, but the more I plug into the web, it’s easy to see that we are engaged in a constant war for what amounts to our souls. (To keep things simple, I'll use the word 'soul' to mean that part of us that is us - our personality, our likes and dislikes and so on). Some religious organizations have had that figured out from time immemorial, of course, and they make no bones about being on the forefront of those battles. I’d like to think at-heart, most faith-based organizations are a force for good, but the level of hypocrisy I see nowadays in so many lead me to the unavoidable conclusion that far too many of them are just players in the panoply of that war and unfortunately they have won inroads into souls of those who would rather allow themselves to be molded or have things spoon-fed to them. Thankfully, there are those that do encourage us to rise above mere conformity and really search out that which is true and really live there…and then keep ascending out of the morass that holds us from being our very best.

I’ve been at both the militantly against and the devoutly for ends of the religious scale, but at the ripe old age of 50, come to a place of simply trying to make a difference where  and when I can – sometimes that means working within a community of like-minded individuals and other times it means standing alone. The key is not being stridently idle…and for me, the struggle my entire life has been to find what this is called. There’s some inexplicable, intangible thing deep within all of us that wants to be part of something larger than ourselves. Is it any wonder we send so much money to charitable organizations and rally around people and communities in need? The needs out there just seem to multiply and at the those slick marketers keep the tragic glossy images in the forefront. They don’t care what you call yourself; they just want your money.

I think this kinda sez it all. The image is from Headline T-Shirts (buy yours here - I get no remuneration, but neither do I own the copyright)

My daughter’s father in-law is also an AML survivor and we obviously compare notes from time to time. He is someone I respect as having a gift for being brutally honest, but being so without being mean-spirited or judgmental. I was delighted to see an excerpt that encapsulated how I felt and wasn’t entirely surprised to see it posted today instead of yesterday when I was struggling to find a way to wrap up this post:

For most us twenty-first-century Western Christians, that is church. And nothing is wrong--and much is right--with all of it. But I can take it or leave it. More often, I prefer to leave it. All those elements together do not make a church. I'm fighting life-threatening cancer of the soul, and too often what we call church offers me a pain pill, religious distraction, false promises, encouragement to live in denial, or a facelift. I don't want to go."

At this risk of coming across as jaded, I want to reiterate that despite some clear frustration, I’m not trying to beat down organized religion or charitable organizations because again, emerging through some pretty obvious hypocrisy and mismanagement in the headlines, good really does happen. What I’m trying to divine, for lack of a better term, is where my new normal, my routine is now. You see, for someone who revels in having lots of projects running in concert, being hospitalized for nearly 90 days this calendar year has been extremely difficult. A temporarily-diminished brain capacity thanks to chemotherapy has been infuriating; constraints thanks to hospital room space and feeling sick from treatment have created a new frustration I could only sympathize with heretofore; but the same thing I knew from day one of this adventure haunts me even today - one cannot walk through crisis and not be changed. That change, though, is something that happens on the inside and like the message of this blog to you, to do anything further would be presumptuous…the next step is something perhaps something *I* have to initiate.

Things like ‘normal’ and ‘routine’ are just going to look different.  The epiphany is like something hidden in plain sight: I have to re-evaluate. I can’t imagine outright giving up some things that I really enjoyed, but neither can I continue it all.

When I got to thinking about it, ‘routine’ is just a series of habits and experiences? True, perhaps, from one perspective. I don’t know what I will feel right about giving my time and effort to at this point, but it’s clear that the ‘new normal’ will be just plain different, albeit with the same substance. I think the best way to explain it is that a layer of skin is being pulled away so that what you see of me is more of who I actually am rather than another well-indoctrinated member of the pop culture brigade. And I hope you become more of the authentically you as well. Working with people on that level is so rewarding and all the more when friendships are involved. Perhaps that’s what friendships are at their base.

But I will stop there because again I don’t ponder the great issues, and even though there may be some still waters running deep on my worn mug, I prefer to simply observe the obvious and get a good laugh from time to time…and I hope there are many, many years of laughter ahead that we share together, dear friend.

Be well, stay strong, and much love to you all.

Note – "Thrilled to Death: Paul Pavao’s Leukemia Blog" can be seen here. We all navigate cancer in a way that helps us make the best sense of it. Paul’s approach tends to be more faith-based and have a tremendous amount of clinical information mixed in his own journey. I hope you find it has helpful as I do.

Music today from Katy Perry – Wide Awake

I'm wide awake
I'm wide awake

I'm wide awake
Yeah, I was in the dark
I was falling hard
With an open heart
I'm wide awake
How did I read the stars so wrong?
I'm wide awake
And now it's clear to me
That everything you see
Ain't always what it seems
I'm wide awake
Yeah, I was dreaming for so long

I wish I knew then
What I know now
Wouldn't dive in
Wouldn't bow down
Gravity hurts
You made it so sweet
'Til I woke up on
On the concrete

Falling from cloud nine
Crashing from the high
I'm letting go tonight
Yeah, I'm falling from cloud nine

I'm wide awake
Not losing any sleep
I picked up every piece
And landed on my feet
I'm wide awake
Need nothing to complete myself, no

I'm wide awake
Yeah, I am born again
Out of the lion's den
I don't have to pretend
And it's too late
The story's over now, the end

I wish I knew then
What I know now
Wouldn't dive in
Wouldn't bow down
Gravity hurts
You made it so sweet
'Til I woke up on
On the concrete

Falling from cloud nine (it was out of the blue)
I'm crashing from the high
I'm letting go tonight (yeah, I'm letting you go)
I'm falling from cloud nine

I'm wide awake
Thunder rumbling
Castles crumbling
I'm wide awake
I am trying to hold on
I'm wide awake
God knows that I tried
Seeing the bright side
I'm wide awake
I'm not blind anymore...

I'm wide awake
I'm wide awake

Yeah, I'm falling from cloud nine (it was out of the blue)
I'm crashing from the high
You know I'm letting go tonight (yeah, I'm letting you go)
I'm falling from cloud nine

I'm wide awake

Wake Me Up

As a navy pilot, we used a term that distilled down from some prescient life-saving factoids: situational awareness. It came from the aircrew collectively knowing what was going on. For example, if the pilot at the controls was moving off course, one of the other aircrew could simply say something like, “I hold you 15 degrees right of course. Without getting into great detail, the pilot had either had the option to explain the deviation or to relinquish the controls. It’s not a matter of skill, just safety. With the exception of the mission commander, rank has all but gone away in the cockpit so every air crewman’s responsibility is to look out for the safety of the aircraft, each other, and the passengers. It absolutely remains the goal. It always must be. One is never too junior to preserve his or her own hide after all!

There are the times though when you find yourself wildly out of control and the staff of aircrew are utterly foreign to you. Thankfully, those occasions have been rare. Unfortunately this week, I had one of those very frightening experiences. I wasn’t at the controls, merely a passenger, figuratively speaking.

My leukemia numbers had been steadily rising, propelling me toward qualifying for outpatient status from what the medical staff had been saying, and that is a good thing, of course, so who was I to question?!  But…then we do have to factor in contingencies…but unless you are the type who is more perhaps guided by fear and what might happen, who does that kind of thing and, more to the point, who can predict an emergency? The best we can do is be moderately prepared. Suffice it to say, when an emergency does happen, it has that unwitting result of hijacking one’s situational awareness, and sometimes of one's consciousness. In this case, I didn’t see it as an emergency at the time, but from what I was told after I awoke, it was indeed a life-threatening condition I had just survived.

Isn’t that special?

So special that since I had asked for one of those lovely pharmacological substances that tend to bring on a touch of amnesia, I don’t know if I got a near-death experiences or not. I don’t think my heart stopped, so there may be that part of the near-death game that I did not qualify. I just know I apparently stopped breathing. My own “code blue” and I missed it all! That’s probably a good thing, though. An alveolar hemorrhage and a blood cancer don’t seem to have much in common, do they, but they conspired to take me down. Regardless, complications and side effects will happen despite our best plans and intentions. Since breathing is rather critical is perhaps the reason I’ve “enjoyed” my own personal MICU room-with-a-view instead of the Marrow Transplant Unit like all other good girls and boys with leukemia. OK, chalk-off one more experience I thought I’d never have. I think it’s safe to say that waking up in an ICU is not on everyone’s bucket list!

I gotta tell ya, when I came to, I honestly thought I had just happened to have clicked a selection for a video game. It was seriously that surreal. I didn’t remember giving the consent for a bronchoscopy, I don’t remember getting anesthetized, and I certainly don’t remember the panic and fear that took me on down. After having morphine-induced hallucinations of Russian mafia zookeepers, it’s not much of a stretch to find yourself restrained, unaware of where you are, how you got there, and why you can’t talk. Much to my chagrin, the nurse who attended me as I awoke had a name similar to Ishmael. I had been trying to drill-in to my budding collegiate son the first three words of the classic, Moby Dick (“Call Me Ishmael”), so this was cruel irony on a level I couldn’t even laugh at it.

Once I got to communicating with really awful sign language and rockin’ really old school clipboard, I figured out I had not, in fact, clicked the correct icon to wake up, but that I was intubated and in the MICU of the hospital, just down the hall from the Marrow Transplant Unit from where I had started this rather scary adventure just hours before.

A pic from the MICU at the Seattle VA Hospital. This is not my close-up, Mr. DeMille! It's proof that this otherwise genteel kinda guy does have a scrappy side and survived a wrestling match with death. It's a bout I don't ever, ever want to fight again. My oldest son, Austin, to the right, has been tremendously helpful. I couldn't have survived without him. Notice, also, the incredibly hi-tech communication device at my left hand (no mouse required!)

I got to repeat this less-than-fun adventure just a few days later, but I think now that I’m back at the MTU, we’ve figured out the cause and not too terribly unlike my first hitch in the hospital some months ago, I have doctors amazed how quickly my body has responded. I’m just happy to be around and not pushing up daisies.

It’s easy to simply say that it wasn’t supposed to happen this way, and there’s always more to any situation, of course, but who thinks, “My number is up today! It has been a great ride.”? I have been quick to say that I’ve enjoyed a great life, so I’m not clinging to every little bit of life out there. On the other hand, I have an awful lot left to live for. Children, grandchildren, niece, and nephew accomplishments, relationships yet to foster and cultivate, professional achievements, people to help, and so on all await us all. So, we can dork around on-line or make things happen – truth be told, a little of both.

I’ve been extremely tired, I’ve watched my weight yo-yo from my intake weight of 190 up to nearly 237 (if the bed scale is to be believed) and now back down today at 201…and continuing downward. I’ve learned more about medical arts than I care to, realized in-spades how much this battle is for others as much as it is for me, and been re-infused with a sense of gratitude that pushes past anything I hadn’t been able to comprehend to this point. And yet this grand adventure is still in progress. That said, the next milepost is in sight and I’m eager to push past it. If all continues to run well, I’ll be going back to outpatient status and recovering away from this big white building of IV alarms, stiff medical protocols, and sterility. After that, we look forward to returning to Utah to let my hair grow back and navigate the new normal…a Christmas gift I don’t think I could hope to exceed. My own nightmare before Christmas is coming to a close and something much more colorful and happy is about to begin.

Be well, stay strong, and much love to you all!

Today’s music is, appropriately enough, Breathe from Michelle Branch

 

I've been driving for an hour
Just talking to the rain
You say I've been driving you crazy
And its keeping you away

So just give me one good reason
Tell me why I should stay
'Cause I don’t wanna waste another moment
In saying things we never meant to say

And I take it just a little bit
I, hold my breath and count to ten
I, I've been waiting for a chance to let you in

If I just breathe
Let it fill the space between
I'll know everything is alright
Breathe
Every little piece of me
You'll see
Everything is alright
If I just breathe

Well it's all so overrated
In not saying how you feel
So you end up watching chances fade
And wondering what's real
And I give you just a little time
I, Wonder if you realize
I've been waiting ‘til I see it in your eyes

If I just breathe
Let it fill the space between
I'll know everything is alright
Breathe,
Every little piece of me
You'll see
Everything is alright
If I just breathe
Breathe

So I whisper in the dark,
Hoping you hear me
Do you hear me?
If I just breathe
Let it fill the space between
I'll know everything is alright
Breathe,
Every little piece of me
You'll see
Everything is alright
Everything is alright if I just breathe... breathe

I've been driving for an hour
Just talking to the rain

Walkin’ the Green Mile

I ain’ committed no crime, yet I’m on death row in ‘cell #6,’ waitin’ ta walk the big ol’green mile. I’ve been given six lethal infusions that are systematically killing my capability to produce blood. Without intervention, I will surely die. This is by design of course, but it is nonetheless, very much factual. Let me pause while I swallow the very big lump in my throat. This latest infusion packs a pretty big wallop. I’m feeling a bit lightheaded, my ears are ringing above authorized levels, and I have this funny sensation in my sinuses. I have developed rashes in the crooks of my elbows and knees and I had a rather bad day of “shake ‘n bake” (chills and fever) and I don’t feel well enough to eat without throwing it up again.

Tomorrow, things change forever. Or you so might think.            

I’ve already begun an infusion of an anti-rejection drug called Tacrilimus so that at some point tomorrow, I will receive stem cells from Hans, my mystery donor. Those cells will immediately go to the ‘iCells’ and become the ‘0’ required type I need.

The day those cells that look little more than ketchup push into my veins, many consider my new “birthday.” So, while I will have walked that green mile, I will also have found a new life after considerable struggle. My new ‘birthday’ turned out to be pretty nonchalant, but it presented a new chance at living. It was a very quiet 10-15 minutes, yet powerful in significance.

So, why ponder on the details of a procedure that is considerably uncomfortable and one that has mortality figures attached to it? Because life, at the risk of coming across as a wee bit glib, is important and those of us who have threatening situations should recognize that in truly the starkest of terms. It sucks, it hurts, and there’s no fun involved at all, but I will survive. I’m profoundly grateful to you all for your best wishes, your kind smiles, gifts to my family, and for all the small details that (I guarantee you I don’t miss attention!). In truth, I didn’t realize that anything I did had anything to do with those of you who had offered up your own well wishes until I had emerged from my own ‘hovel’ of sorts. After all, this all seemed liked it was most assuredly, all about me! Even though that was true to some extent, I was about to learn that wasn’t quite true.

There are a lot of people at different stages of their treatment shuffling through the MTU each morning, but only about half a dozen inpatient rooms as most of the transplant procedure actually takes place outside the hospital. It makes things overall easy to keep track of everyone. Once I went inpatient for my actual transplant, I lost track of a lot of my compadrés going through this loveliness with me. Much like my first hospitalization, I lost my strength and just felt like watching the birds when they happened to cross my path. Still, part of my daily regimen, is to take a walk. On returning back, I met up with a wife of of a guy going through an “auto [providing one own’s stem cells]. The two of them had just been home for a couple of weeks fishing and had recently returned back to the MTU to finish the deal. Each regimen has its plusses and minuses, inevitably leaving you with the “I couldn’t do that!” expression on your face. In this case, it was full body irradiation.  That was the hurdle I struggled with, yet for their relationship, that’s what he would do for her.

I think that’s when it struck me. It isn’t all about me. In her very simple, pleading voice, she explained to me about her husband sleeping in one of the adjoining suite of rooms. She told me, “I can only imagine what he’s going through, but it’s the least I’d do for him. That’s what love does for one another. So, at that little alcove at the end of the hallway, I saw it wasn’t about a single person. Going through the extreme sacrifice of cancer treatment is as much for others as it is for oneself.



The day before leaving for Seattle, we all gathered for a BBQ in Park City. A large version of this picture hangs at the foot of my bed at the hospital, reminding me that I have a lot of people I am living for and a lot of people who love me. This is only a fraction of the who' fam damily!

We walked each other back to the MTU where her husband was asleep and I had some new things to think about. The day before I headed out from Utah for this grand adventure of healing, this pic was snapped and deemed “Team Todd 2013.” It has most of my local family and it was blown up to poster size so it can look down on me during some rather lonely nights. I am without a spouse and my children live on the other side of the country, so the poster is significant. My children and indeed those smiling down on me from the solitude of Team Todd 2013 are those whom I have to garner the strength to keep living and fighting for. It is indeed not just about me. Happy new birthday, sure…but it means so much more, especially to those who walk with me. The only crime I will have committed will be the one of supreme selfishness to ignore this birthday.

Be well, stay strong J, and much love to you all!

Today's music:  Magia de Amore by Vitorio Grigolo

 

Te recorro lentamente por la piel
Te acaricio tiernamente las mejillas
Y mis manos se enloquecen al llegar
Lentas en tierras perdidas
Suaves colinas dormidas
Y mi boca que no deja de besar
Y se pierde en las arenas atrevidas
Y tu playa se confunde con mi mar
Anchas, ondas compartidas
Sabias, gaviotas amigas
Magia de amor
Juego inocente
Loca ilusiòn que escapò entre la gente
Y que vuelve a mi lado
Sin otra intenciòn que vivir
Sin pedir un por qué
Ni olvidar el perdòn
Me fascina tu manera de querer
Y me entrego a tus malicias decididas
Me abandono a la conquista de tus pies
Bellas palomas prohibidas
Fiesta de miel escondida
Magia de amor
Juego inocente
Loca ilusiòn que escapò entre la gente
Y que vuelve a mi lado
Sin otra intenciòn que vivir
Sin pedir un por qué
Ni olvidar el perdòn
Que vuelve a mi lado
Sin otra intenciòn que vivir
Ni olvidar el perdòn
Sin pedir un por qué
Ni olvidar el perdòn