Here....We...GO!

I sent my alarm clock for a nice and early 5:00am yesterday as I needed to be at the hospital by 7:45am. I made my breakfast, packed a lunch, my puzzles, some books and my thermos of coffee and set out on my adventure. Lo and Behold, the National Weather Service was WRONG again. White stuff was falling from the sky burying my car and they called for clear skies. Crap! Everyone who lives in a big city knows what any form of precipitation means. It means that it was going to be a VERY long trip to the U of C. The streets were essentially unplowed and I slipped and slid down the street, down Irving Park Rd until I merged onto the Expressway where I stopped slipping and sliding and sat and sat and sat. At 7:15, I had barely gone 10 miles and I had already been sitting in the car for an hour. I called the U of C and told them I was going to be late and inched along the highway, my speedometer barely leaving 0 most of the trip and got as high as 25 at one point. At 10:15, I finally arrived at the hospital my journey taking a little over 4 hours. I checked in and was sent to the Infusion Therapy Dept. Infusion Therapy is essentially "The Chemo Room." Those scheduled to receive their chemo via IV, are taken to a little private room with a chair that looks a lot like a dentist chair. There is a table and a TV and they receive their Chemo via a pre-installed "Mediport" that is usually installed in their chest. The room was packed and for the first time in a long time, I felt fortunate. I was taking an oral pill. I was able to walk into that room on my own volition and I don't look like someone has sucked every red blood cell out of my body. My time in the infusion room was short. After the phlebotomist set up the pic line in my hand and took 5 vials of blood, the clinical nurse delivered my two bottles of Brivanib which I was required to take in his presence. Then I was sent to my own devices with instructions to be back every two hours for a blood draw, the last draw at 5pm. First order of business, find a place to drink that thermos of coffee!! I found a comfy chair on the 4th floor and read and drank my coffee until my next blood draw and get over the little buzz the medicine gave me. After my noon blood draw, I wandered back down to the 4th floor atrium and found an area with a table and some couches. The area was sectioned off and three women were sitting at the table. I poked my head in and asked if I could sit on one of the chairs. On Wed, a cancer support group meets in that area. Because of the weather, no one had shown up and so I became the honorary member. Two of the three women left and the third woman, also named Cathy, asked if I wouldn't mind signing in just so she can take it back to the boss and show them that at least one person came for the meeting. I signed the paper and she and I started talking and we talked until my next blood draw. We talked about healing and what it is and how to really achieve it. I told her my story, not just with cancer but with the ED as well, the journey, the learning process, all of it.

I have spoken to other cancer patients either at the Relay for Life, online, at the hospital, and even while checking groceries at Wal-Mart. We all have different ideas about how to heal. Some patients will not look past the empirical. If it hasn't gone through a clinical trial, they won't look at it and bombast others for falling for a snake oil scheme. I came across an angry patient on a bulletin board who insisted that there is absolutely no proof that CAM therapies work and threatened to report anyone who talked about any CAM therapy. On the other hand, I also talk to people who refuse to look at Western medicine and adhere strictly to nutrition, yoga, meditation, and prayer. They find Western medicine abhorrent and I can't blame them. Many have turned to natural therapies after many rounds of chemo, they had many parts of themselves chopped off, and after Oncologists who refuse to listen to them or write them off for dead. I've seen miracles and inspiration on both sides of the aisle. Regardless of whether they opted for the traditional, the holistic or a little of both, they are thriving, they are fighting, they are surviving even against the odds. I theorize that there is no one way to healing from cancer and the road we take as patients is as individual as the genes that brought us to this point. There's a non-empirical, non-measurable part of every survivor, call it soul, or spirit or will, that keeps us going and drives us forward. But to ensure optimal outcome, we need to BELIEVE in the course we are taking. The state of the mind, drives the body and the mind is incredibly powerful. I told her that the number one thing that patients need to do is learn to handle the fear and I'll admit there are days when I am fearful. Who wouldn't be? Cathy said "Sometimes, when you're in the Labyrinth, it may seem as if you are closest to the exit and it is usually then that you are really the farthest away and vice versa." Even though it seems as if you haven't gained much ground, success may be closer than you think. She thanked me for the conversation, for sharing these bits of my own story. I like to think that there are no cooincidences. At the moment that I entered that atrium, I was where I was supposed to be, doing what I was supposed to be doing. In some way, I may have helped Cathy be a better cancer group leader and from her I received some encouragement and support at the time I really needed encouragement and support. Sarcoma patients, tell your story and keep telling it. You don't know who may influence or what seeds you plant by telling it. Your struggles teach others how to fight and inspire others to keep going and remember, that in the labyrinth, even though you may feel as if you're the farthest away from the exit, you may be closer than you think.