Family

Family.  We are all familiar with family . . . parents, siblings, cousins.  Family, however, comes in more forms than just a blood connection.  Family is a group of people with whom you share a very intimate, bonded relationship.

We have discovered one such family in these last few weeks.  Not that we weren't aware of it, but we had not been an intimate member of this portion of the "cancer" family in some time.  Sitting in

Our new family!

radiation oncology's waiting room is an experience that I hope no one ever has to share, but if you do, let me tell you what you will find there.

First, there are no secrets.  They talk about their cancer as we discuss the local gossip with a morning cup of coffee.  What kind?  What treatment?  What drugs?  What side effects?  What is the prognosis?  How do you feel?  There is no shame in the fact that they are sick, perhaps even deathly ill.

Second, it is the most positive place I have ever been.  These people encourage each other in ways that the rest of us can't even begin to understand.  They cheer each other on, celebrate each little bit of success.  They are happy, joking, empathetic, supportive......and I am not talking about the employees (although it is true of them also), these are the people awaiting treatment.  Each and every one is taking their turn with "the machine" that will burn and destroy some part of their body, but in spite of it all, they march forward heads held high and a smile on their face.  And they go with the support of their "family".

Third, it takes only a few minutes to be included in this family.  They know and remember your name, age, birthday, and any other amount of information that floats in and out of the conversation.  There isn't time for the mundane like politics, or television or news.  There is only time for the "family" that they meet every morning in the waiting room.  The openness and laughter are contagious, you enjoy being with them.

Ready for treatment.

This "family" that we will know intimately only for a few minutes for a few days will impact our lives forever.  How is that possible?  Is it the terrible circumstances?  Or is it because the unimportant things of life are stripped away and that which is really important comes to the forefront.  Ultimately, once this treatment is over, we may never see any of them again.  And yet, they have impacted our lives in so many ways.  Here, when you say "I hope I don't see you again." it is the most wonderful thing you can hope for...…..that you never see them again under these circumstances.

And lastly, the room literally vibrates with faith.  Whether the patient is a believer or not, they welcome everyone's prayers.  The loved ones whisper their concern about the fate of their family member, asking for others to pray for their health, yes, but ultimately for their salvation.  Sometimes we have to be stripped naked to see what is really important......the waiting room in radiation oncology does that.  You come away with wonderful, painful, insightful details of so many lives.  But the one thing I have never sensed there is fear.  I am not saying that is isn't there, they just don't focus on it.

When one is faced with death . . .  something we all talk about but never really deeply think about until it becomes so defined in our life . . . , when it hits us in the face, we see for the first time just how fragile and "human" we are . . .  now we get to choose how we handle it.  I admire each and every one of this new family.  They are facing the ultimate fear and overcoming.  I pray that I will face everything in life with such courage and positivity.

Just Writin' on the River Road

Every Day is a Gift

I did an article on waiting in lines a short while back. I have had the dubious pleasure of spending even more time in physician’s waiting rooms. But it is not with joy or humor that I choose to write about that. For those sitting there have stories to tell, pain to share, and a life that the rest of us know nothing about.

I spend hours each week at the Mountain States Tumor Institute (MSTI) in Boise while my husband has his cancer treatments. It is an all day affair which results in considerable observation. As I look at the faces, I wonder about their “story”. Some appear to be old hands when it comes to all the rigmarole involved with their particular treatment. Others wear this face of pain and fear. Some are young and some are old. No one wants cancer, but for the young it just seems so very wrong. Some are cheerful and upbeat, others are sad and down trodden. Some don’t seem to care anymore. I wonder about them all.

I wonder about the young woman who was pregnant and receiving chemotherapy. What a choices she must have had to make. Not only will she worry about herself, but she will worry about this new life she is carrying within her body. Will it be unaffected by the treatments? Will she ever get to see the baby, much less raise it? Those thoughts have to increase your torment when dealing with cancer.

And then there was the young man who was receiving financial counseling in the waiting room. He had his whole life to consider, plus monumental bills for his health care. He had to choose between living or dying because of the affordability of treatment. That just adds one more stress morsel to his plate. I try not to listen, but it is inevitable and it breaks my heart.

There are those who show up for their appointment alone. And then there are those who have a herd of people with them. I feel for both. When I am sick…..leave me alone! But many people draw strength from having loved ones around. If they feel loved and supported, bring on the troops. And if you want to be alone, I respect that too. As long as you are alone by choice and not because you have no one in your life to help you.

And then there are the doctors and nurses. I asked the radiation oncologist why she chose this particular field since she was inevitably upbeat and joyful, full of hugs and laughter. She said “hope”. “I can offer people hope.” And she was so good at that. She listened, encouraged, cajoled, but more than anything she offered us hope. A little bit of hope goes a long way.

Each of the doctors bring their own gift to the table. The chemotherapy oncologist brings honesty. He tells us repeatedly that he will always tell us the truth about the progression and treatment of the cancer. It isn’t that he isn’t kind and pleasant, he is, but his focus is on the truth. I appreciate that. You can operate with the truth. You can make decisions, plan ahead and not be slammed with surprise. That is a good thing.

People who work at the MSTI health care facility are gifted people. I could not do it. But when I ask the nurses, they tell me they love it. And the fact that they do love their work shows in how they treat each individual patient. They are kind, gentle, caring, encouraging, concerned, even fun and full of teasing. How can you love something when you know that eventually the largest percentage of your patients will die? It takes a unique individual to find joy in treating the living while they are here. It truly is a gift. And I am ever so grateful that they have found their work home at MSTI and share their gift with us each week.

I pray none of you ever have to spend time in waiting rooms “observing” people. But you can learn a lot from their examples. I commend the medical community for all they do. You are sorely under appreciated. In the three plus years of spending time in and out of various medical facilities, I have only run into one “lemon”. He was an ICU doctor, and I fired him immediately. I know, you didn’t see that coming! But don’t mess with “Mama Bear”.

I guess if I had to lump it all into one category, I would say that they all cared. I am sure everyone of them have a bad day now and then, they have problems at home or with family, but we never see it or feel it. Bless them. It is my job to let them know that everything they do is appreciated beyond anything I can actually express. I try to do that as often as I can. A word of appreciation goes a long way to make anyone’s day better. We need to do that more frequently that we do.

Remember life is a gift. All we really have is today. Use it, enjoy it, live it!

Just writin' on the River Road