I had every intention of writing this amazing post. I was gonna start by painting my hospital room as a revolving door, documenting the countless number of doctors that came into my room today to report on testing, or to explain their plan, or to tell me some new piece of information that would leave me feelings a little more unraveled with every word. The liver specialists, the GI team, the oncology team, the internal medicine team, the palliative team (or aka: my favorite, the pain specialists), medical students, residents, food service, house keeping, my nurse with antibiotics, etc, etc, I digress. I thought my only focus here was going to be fighting cancer, but I was so wrong. Its all of the little things that are building up, side effects of the disease that are out of control and driving me crazy...like emptying 4 liters (equal to 9 pounds, yes, 9 pounds) of fluid from my abdomen, only to have my stomach swell again hours later because there was so much more fluid that they didnt remove. Ok, in their defense, they only take off 4 liters the first time because of the danger to the kidneys. I totally get the doctors are looking out for all my organs, and I appreciate it, I do. But this 9 month pregnant, swollen, painful belly feels like the bain of my existence. Yes, I know, a tad bit dramatic this evening. Perhaps its the fluid in my chest collapsing my lungs, the cannula on my face, or the difficulty in taking a deep breath; maybe its the puffy kidney and ureter that the docs saw in the ultrasound this morning, or feeling like teams of other people are making decisions for me that has put me in a mood. I knew fighting the good fight would be difficult, I just didnt understand to the depths I would travel to get through it. The oncologists spent quite a bit of time talking with me this afternoon. The aggressiveness of the cancer requires a hard hitting solution. Two types of chemo were put on the table, and my head started to spin as I listened to the regiment, the countless side effects, the this will most likely happen days 3-5 whereas this might happen days 7-10 and then of course you start over again... My original intention had been to take a more homeopathic approach with diet change, to be more in control of my treatments and to heal my body through the process; not load it up with a poison that will kill the cancer but also my immune system and white blood cells, making me susceptible to infection and more hospital visits. But what choice do I really have when my body is screaming out that my good intentions are just not good enough to fight the cancer in the time frame Ive been given? Tomorrow morning, I will be wheeled to interventional radiology first thing to receive a port. Shortly after, I will start the first round of chemo; and a little bit after that, I start the second round- being attached to a continuos 48 hour pump that loads my body with the hard hitting drug to knock out the cancer. And you know what? Its still a total leap of faith. Either the chemo will work or it wont. But God... I was so, so tired, just trying to rest in my bed this afternoon, but it seemed like my door kept opening with doctor after doctor, specialist after specialist, not to mention the pain. I took off my glasses, shut the lights off, and finally got comfortable, no easy task for this beached whale. And, of course, there was a knock at the door. Without my glasses, I couldnt see. Who is it? I asked, feeling so weary. Its Beth, she said. I can come back later. My pain management nurse practitioner. The lady who came to see me every time I was admitted to the hospital, whether I was on her list or not. The gentle voice, the listening ear, the one I felt safe talking to about my pain, my hope, and even my worry. Oh, Beth, I said, now is not a good time. Ok, she said. Quickly, she snuck into my room, placed her soft hand on my shoulder and kissed my forehead. The tears started streaming down my cheeks and I began to sob. I grabbed her hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. Im so sorry. I didnt mean to hurt you, she said as she started to cry. You didnt, I explained through my sobs, you caught me off guard. I tried to gain control of my crying. I just wanted you to feel loved, she whispered. I saw Beth cover her mouth with her other hand to keep the crying in. Im praying for you. And with that she squeezed my shoulder again, kissed my forehead one more time, and quietly went on her way. I was undone. Unraveled by such a simple gesture, but I realized, it was the first time all day I felt like I was looked upon as more than just a cancer patient who had multiple ailments and problems that needed fixing. Beth saw me as I really was- a tired-from-fighting, weary young girl who needed to be loved. Shortly after she left, I drifted into a sweet sleep, a sleep I havent known in so long. I awoke feeling rested, and I thought about Beth and her heart for me. I dont always have to be strong. I dont always have to fight. Sometimes, I can lay down to rest and just be me. And on this side of the battlefield in the hospital, she makes all the difference.
Posted on: Wed, 07 Jan 2015 07:44:15 +0000
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