There I was, pacing the floor…walking off and measuring the squares of flooring, counting how may it took to reach the far wall. Leroy was in the room, sitting on the exam table, waiting for the doctor to come in for a consult. It could have been about scan results, blood tests, or a new course of treatment.
What it was, was a flashback from a time a few years ago when that would have been a regular day for us. We were living in cancer world. Now, it was in my minds’ eye, as I stood outside that exam room yesterday, watching a couple, not that different from what we were like then, waiting for their results.
I was there as an observer, working on a project at Johns Hopkins, but I must admit, some of those old anxious feelings came back to haunt me.
I looked into the eyes of the woman who was waiting to hear what her scans revealed and I saw the first signs of how cancer had already changed her world. Just the anticipation of hearing those words “You have cancer,” had already started to work their way into her psyche.
Her caregiver, the man in her life, tried so hard not to give-in to his worry. His hand on her shoulder gave her strength. But, there came a time, when both of them couldn’t stand the stress anymore and they just held on to each other, hoping it would all go away.
This scene was most likely played out in the next room and in the next room after that one. It’s what happens in cancer centers everywhere, every day.
I remember, just like it was yesterday.
Mar 19, 2011 @ 10:15:59
I originally posted this at the wrong place, so I am reposting it in the hopes that it may help someone who is entering or has been in these rooms and experienced these anxieties that Laurie speaks about.
We’re still living those days but not with as much urgency and fear as before.
Yesterday we got the results of Bill’s last tests. His tumor markers are continuing to climb and, in fact, are the highest they’ve been since he was diagnosed. There is a new tiny (12 mm) nodule in his right lower lung this time…very small and it was not present three months ago. Otherwise the scan is clean; nothing new in the abdomen, including his liver…..his PET scan from 3 months ago was also clean. He feels great and looks good. His Dr. and we discussed the change and all agreed not to go back on chemo at this time. We’ll give it another 3 months to see how much, if any, this nodule grows. Since his chemo was still working very well when he stopped last April, we fully expect it will do it’s job again if it is needed.
We had both been nervous about this visit. Each of us had come to a point on our own where we were really beginning to think perhaps this thing had been beaten…and it was a scarey feeling, because once you begin to hope that way, it’s so much more difficult when you get knocked down. Surprisingly though, I don’t feel that way this time and neither does Bill. We are still hopeful. The Dr. said..”Hey, we know we can’t cure this thing, but we’re going to do everything we can to control it.” I remember him saying that to us in the beginning and feeling scared that it couldn’t be “cured”. This time though, it gave me hope…hope that he could continue to sometimes have these recurring months without chemo, when he can replenishes his body and regains his weight and his strength. Times that are filled with peace, gratitude and joy. If the bad days come again…as they do to us all in one way or another…we’ll deal with it then. No more living in tomorrow..or the past. We’re living in today and enjoying it as it comes.
Mar 17, 2011 @ 13:37:01
Laurie, yesterday I was at the oncology center working on the jigsaw puzzle when a woman sat down to help. She had just heard the words ‘you have cancer’ a week ago, not sure of the extent, was going in for a CT already had a PET, and no course of treatment decided yet.
We got to talking, told of my time there and worked hard to help her feel like ‘crazy land’ was the most normal place in the world.
Going home I got to wondering just how many times did that scene get played out across the world today? And dear me, why in the world are there so many of us in the club no one wants to belong too?
Mar 19, 2011 @ 10:09:32
Brady…. your words brought back such fresh memories of sitting in those waiting rooms and working on those jig saw puzzles. Just about every table had a puzzle in progress. Folks would sit down and work alone or with others, as their time or interest allowed, and often had a chance to share those words of help and hope with each other….or sometimes just to share a concern or ask a questions. It was a time of healing and comfort for me and gave me something to do other than just allow my idle mind to fill up with fear. Yes, that scene does get played across the world, I am sure. With me it played at the Moffitt Cancer Center in Tampa, FL as well as several treatment facilities in the state.
I hope that not too many patients and/or caregivers have to be in the position to enjoy this type of comfort, but if they ARE, let’s hope that they have places like this to do it in, and people like these who give so much care and comfort.