Since I have four of these visits under my belt and will likely have a dozen before it's over, I thought I would share my observations and advice should you ever find yourself in this spot. I hope and pray that you don't.
This photo is from my first chemo treatment. I had 12 different drugs that day. I think I won that round for most bags of anyone in the room. If winning is such a thing here.
Science is Important
I've talked to people who are 10-, 20-, or 30-year survivors of cancer which is very encouraging. My experience with cancer treatment is radically different from theirs. Over the years researchers have made huge advancements in creating new chemotherapy drugs, matching the drug cocktail to the cancer, tailoring the dose to the patient, and minimizing (although not eliminating) the awful side effects. I'm not sure a true cure to cancer is possible, but I see so much progress that it gives me hope for the future - early detection, improved treatments, and better long term survival rates. I cannot imagine what will be available to my now 9-year old when she has to start colon cancer screening at 32 years old. Hopefully it will involve a blood test or some other non-invasive diagnostic. Not everyone is cut out for scientific research but all of us can support organizations and political candidates that further scientific research and support science education.
"In the face of overwhelming odds, I'm left with only one option, I'm gonna have to science the shit out of this." - Mark Watney from The Martian.
Choose your seat wisely
I am in the chemo room for 4-5 hours every other week. That's a large block of time to sit and think. Based on my observations, my introvert nature, and my desire not to chit chat, here is my ranking of the best seats in the house:
1. Next to the younger person with the iPad or laptop and earbuds. They don't want to talk and will gladly leave you alone.
2. Next to the snack basket. You need your strength. Eat some free Cheetos.
3. Next to the old guy. He's not going to talk at all. Within minutes of kicking back the recliner, he will be asleep. His snoring is like a white noise machine.
4. Next to the little old lady with her knitting, crocheting, or worn paperback. She's going to smile and maybe say hello then she is going to busy herself with her craft or book.
5. The one with an empty seat next to it. This seems like it would be the best option, but it is only a good option if you brought a friend or relative with you to park in that seat. They will likely be booted out of the seat for another patient later, but in the meantime, you've got someone you like next to you. The downside is you have no control over who sits there next. This is a risky move.
6. Next to the bathroom. Seems like a good idea to sit close considering they are putting what seems like gallons of fluid into your body that you will need to get rid of. But you really don't want to see the coming and going of each patient.
7. Next to the middle-age lady who brought her friend, daughter, or sibling. Her partner will not be shooed from the room even if it means sitting on a horribly uncomfortable plastic chair for hours. They are going to make small talk the entire time. Earbuds are your only hope.
There is always someone in worse shape than you
In our consumption-driven society, it's easy to notice people with bigger houses, nicer cars, more expensive clothing, and more exotic vacations. It's tempting to succumb to the better life syndrome. It is just the opposite in the chemo room. I'm on the young end of the age spectrum in the chemo room. In fact, I've only seen one patient that is close to my age. There are patients who are on oxygen, patients who bring in a gallon-size Ziploc bag full of prescriptions, patients who roll in on a walker or in a wheelchair, and patients who are obviously very sick and very miserable. It's pretty easy to find people to add to your prayer list. It's pretty easy to see your situation in a different light. It's pretty easy to find gratitude here.
No comments:
Post a Comment