September 20, 2006
- Day 1 - Week 25 - Back in the Chair
If you have ever been to a cancer clinic you notice
immediately that the chairs, or loungers, are
arranged to insure some privacy while allowing
nursing staff to poke, connect, and monitor the
patients with ease. At the Angeles Clinic, which has
been my comfort corner for three days each of the
last six months, I have witnessed the diversity of
people with cancer, as well as the outward dramatic
differences in appearances as chemo therapy is
administered. Today I spent five hours seated in my
self selected chair next to a peer who began his
first treatment for another form of lymphoma called
follicular lymphoma.
I experienced the usual sleepiness and minor
discomfort that I have come to appreciate during my
treatments only to be acutely aware of John’s
struggle with every hour of his treatment. Sweating
profusely at one point as I wrapped myself in two
blankets to ward off the chill of the clinic; a
temperature selection designed to mitigate the usual
increase in body temperature, my roommate was
uncomfortable from start to finish. The drip of the
drugs is regulated by the nursing staff based upon
tolerance. My drip drip drip goes that fast because
my body is able to process the liquid well. On the
other hand, my friends drip was decreased twice as
he struggled with twitching legs that prevented his
getting comfortable, regardless of the position
assumed. He was a wreck from start to finish.
The lessons about life that one gains through
observation should not be discounted. Once again I
counted my blessings as I witnessed a 69 year old
real estate developer suffer right before my eyes. I
could not help but look around the room trying to
sense what others were going through as I checked
emails, responded to comments on the Kreitler
Compact feedback section, and read an article on
rainforests in a recent Smithsonian; in other words,
while enjoying my normal routine, even though hooked
up to a chemical drip, I saw several individuals in
great pain. Diagonally across the room a middle aged
man slept while two women sat silently in vigil. He
looked as if the cancer was winning and the non
verbal communication of the women reflected their
deep concern; he looked like he was dying..
I guess cancer has its own agenda and we have to be
open to discuss the variety of ways it affects
individuals differently. There is no one size that
fits all here, and I invite you to join me with me
in softening our hearts for those who suffer, either
within our immediate circle or beyond our personal
borders.
Please look to Wayne’s offering from September 13th
as a guideline in expanding our influence regarding
cancer. Our personal borders expanding gives hope to
further generations, and especially those
genetically predisposed to cancer. A call to Henry
Waxman, one of the leading congress persons to
confront big tobacco, might be the key in promoting
a cancer strategy designed to help all of us for a
cancer free future. Thanks Wayne for providing tools
to do something concrete and thanks to each of you
for being there for those you love who are fighting
the good fight like my new friend John.
Back to Week
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