Dark gray circles on faded and pale faces surrounded me today. Moving through three waiting rooms I was invited into the world of “Cancer” treatment. Someone once told me that finding out you were “sick” was like taking a boat from one side of the healthy river, to the other bank on the opposite side, where people were in a whole different world.
I felt like a guest to that world today, with a guest pass on. With a, “Hi, My name is Venetia, but I have the best kind of cancer so technically I’m not sure if I should be here”. There were no name tags, and I could tell everyone was looking at me and my aunt and making the assumption that it was she who was getting treatment.
I have a new profound respect for doctors and all people in the medical field today. People that come to work every day to see sadness in people’s eyes, to face fear that most of the world does not even want to think about. We all live in a world where we don’t have to confront these things, yet they choose to confront them. It is all so very selfless.
I was met with warm and kind eyes today, and lots of smiles. I asked for names, and met Glenn, Liz, and Alice. Not to mention, my lovely surgeon, who exuded the warmth of a wise old indian chief grandpa.
They took my blood, walked me through the steps of what would be surgery day, and listened to me breathe, along with the most thorough exams I have ever had.
I just imagined falling asleep with family around me, and waking up with them around me too.
Then, I looked around again. What you see is life. Real life. You see a man with his brother, and he has a tube in his throat and sounds like a robot when he talks. You see another man whose eyes are permanently wide open in a state of shock, as he watches his wife head into the back with the doctor. At any moment, it looks like he may burst into tears, or he may just be that exhausted.
You see waiting rooms full of people drinking the free hot chocolate because there’s just not that much else to do. But wait. There’s so much waiting.
My appointments today were 2 hours appointments and 7 hours waiting. On the other side of the river is just a bunch of people lining up and waiting.
I got some great advice from Liz, one of the nurses today. She said, “Do everything now, before you have kids. In fact, please, wait. Wait for love, wait for kids. Take the next five years for you. You deserve it, and time will be gone. It will fly. And if anyone has a constant reminder of how precious time is on this earth, it’s me”.
Thank you Liz, I finally feel like someone on this planet understands me.
Also, on that side of the river, the word “Cancer” is everywhere. On pamphlets, on the shuttles, and even in the name of the hospital. I hereby rid the dictionary of this awful word, and from now on will call it, “Thyroid annoyance”.
The pokes and prodding gave me an acute awareness of just how friggin amazing bodies are. Holy crap. These wired miracles actually function just fine and move us around every day of our lives. Has anyone thought of that today?! Something the size of a pea controls the calcium levels of your body. Apparently calcium is critical. If this isn’t a reminder that the small things are everything I simply don’t know what is.
If looking around and seeing my Dad, my aunt, and my best friend all listening to the details of my upcoming surgery isn’t a reminder of the love in my life, then I also simply don’t know what is.