When I was at chemo and my shots last Monday and Tuesday, I noticed kind of a strange thing. As depressing and awful as chemo is -- there is something positive about being there and watching people doing their best to overcome an awful thing and seeing people reach out to another person who is probably worse off than they are.
Don't get me wrong, it is not a happy and cheerful place, and it can be rather depressing. The office I go to is an older office and isn't the most beautifully decorated, comfortable office. But there is something about watching everyone there.
I've seen people get sick and cry and need oxygen and have Drs. and nurses rush to them, but I've never heard patients whine or complain or be nasty to other people. As you walk up and down the aisle with your drugs attached to you and you are headed to the bathroom everyone smiles and gives you the "you can do it" look. In the waiting rooms it is very common to swap cancer and surgery stories, encourage a new person about how losing your hair isn't too bad, and clap and wipe back tears when someone is leaving for the last time and gets to ring the bell.
I think part of it is that you can't feel sorry for yourself at chemo. There is always someone worse off than you are. When I go to church or to an event with the kids or to the store, I can look around and wish that I was living a "normal" life right now. But at chemo I just count my blessings and realize we all have tough things to face.
I've watched a dad do his chemo with 2 little girls sitting on his lap and read books to him and his wife have to wheel him out in a wheel chair when he was done. Last week there was a cute girl probably 17 with a mom younger than me. She had a feeding tube and looked so sick and frail. One of my chemo breast cancer friends has a husband with Alzheimer's and he doesn't even know her anymore. She can never be the patient at home like I am because she has to take care of him. My cute 75 year old Ovarian cancer friend I met last week lives alone -- her kids live out of state -- she was ringing the bell by herself after her last chemo because her brothers wife had died and he was getting ready for the viewing. I met a sweet family whose mom (probably 55) was starting her first chemo. The husband, sister and one daughter were all with her. They wanted to talk about losing hair, finding cute hats and what was in store for them. The sister was planning to shave her head when her sister lost her hair.
When I took Kenzi with me to get my shot on Tuesday she was like a star. My Drs. and nurses and chemo friends I ran into loved seeing her, told her how beautiful she was and were so sweet.
I love seeing the human spirit doing its best to reach out to others and try to stay positive and fight. I love that everyone there is just cheering on everyone else -- no competitions, no keeping up with the Jones, now comparing one another. Just positive thoughts and hopes for other people who are in there facing the same "garbage" you are.
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