I Don't Want New Friends. Today

Wednesday
10:00 a.m.
Radiation Clinic

The radiation machine has been broken off and on since Monday.  My husband says he can tell a difference in how it sounds and rotates as it goes around his neck.
The line to get in for treatment is like the lines to get into DisneyWorld in July when school is out for the summer. 
I usually wait in the waiting room and chat with my new  friends that all have cancer and are waiting for their treatments while he's in there for 45 minutes to an hour getting radiated.

Chris has finished his radiation treatments and I wonder if I will ever see him again. I hope that I do, but not in here. We exchanged phone numbers but you know how those things go...
Sandy. 
Sandy I worry about her desperately.
I did get her full name and watch the obituaries in the local newspaper for her name. 
What have I become???
Checking the death notices for my friends' names now? How macabre.
It's funny how close you can get to complete strangers in an oncology clinic waiting room and how quickly your heart can be pulled in to them. 
Their stories. Their lives. Their hopes.
Now, it's a whole new group of people and I am not so sure I even want to try.
What's the point? 

Today, I just sat and shoved my nose in my iPad and didn't even look up. I don't have the energy to be wrapped into so much sadness today. All of the sweet sad people.
This is how the conversations usually go...
"Hi. How is your day? What kind and where is your cancer?"
It's ongoing. Everyone has a sad story about how and when they were diagnosed and their symptoms. 
Oprah once said that everyone has a story that will make you cry. I believe that may be magnified in this place. Mostly the clinic is men. I'd say 7 out of 10 are men with cancer.
I beg for a cure.
Tomorrow is chemo day. :(

Tests

10:00 a.m. 2nd Radiation treatment.
All went pretty well. 
Going into the Oncology clinic is an experience in itself. Sad to say, I never knew these places even existed... Before now.
Everyone should go to one. It's a kind of sacred place in an odd kind of way.


It is kind of like a Methadone Clinic I once had to go to pick up papers of a drug addicted mom.
Everyone arrives at their own designated time. We all seem like addicts that arrive and wait to get the drugs they pass out but instead of drugs, it's radiation beams. Most everyone has black marks penned in on their bodies where the Radiation will blast them. It's like they wear a badge of where the cancer is located on their ravaged bodies.  My husband's lines his entire neck and down his chest.
There are loads of chairs and tables, coffee and a large table where the patients with no family to sit and hold their hand seems to congregate. On the table is a beautiful puzzle being put together by the hands of cancer patients. Some are at the end of their treatments and some, like us are just beginning. 
You can tell the newbies because we have that "I'm so lost. I'm so scared" look in our eyes. The veterans seem so used to it, almost hardened to it. 

Today, I was sitting in my chair and this tall slim gorgeous woman walked in and checked in at the front desk. She had very short almost white hair. I noticed her because she had on a pretty white ruffled top and cute jeans. When she turned around, we smiled at each other.
She was stunning. So elegant even with her practically bald head and perfect makeup. 
I have never known a stranger so I commented to her how beautiful she looked and her makeup was so pretty. She told me that her makeup routine is her saving grace. She told me it is her sanity at the beginning of her day. I asked her how far she was into her treatment. She said she has been doing this since November non-stop! Wow.
She had gone into remission for one week and it has flared back up but this was her Journey. She told me she knew her journey would soon be over and she was ready. She was tired.
 I remembered my first blog post was named A Journey of Fear. 
She must have seen the fear and anguish that is like an envelope that surrounds me.. She sat by me and held my hand and whispered to me that it was all God's way. I sat in the middle of a very crowded waiting room while a perfect stranger held me in her arms and comforted ME. This beautiful woman had probably been thru more hell that I can even imagine. She hugged me and held me in her arms for a very long time. She seemed to never want to let go.
My journey with my husband is just beginning and I have the horrible feeling that her journey is about to end too soon.  I cried and cried and this seriously ill woman held me so close. 



Today, my husband refused to eat. He has lost so much weight. I see his once so perfect athletic butt fading before my eyes. His arms are looking so thin. I try and BEG him to eat but he says just the thought of food makes him nauseous.  
I made a pact with myself to NEVER eat in front of him. Ever. How could I? This is a man that loved his steaks and pizzas and junk food. Today, I grabbed a bologna sandwich and hid behind the freezer in the storage room and ate it standing up, hurrying in case he came to find me. It just seems so wrong to enjoy food in front of him when he can't any longer. His feeding tube surgery is scheduled for the 7th of July.  He will get fed but will never taste it.


We have a brain MRI tomorrow after the 3rd radiation treatment. For some heinous reason, this rare cancer loves to find a home in the brain. 
I pray his head is sharp and clear.  He is fading on me and my heart is aching. He says he's tired already and this fight hasn't really even begun!
His best friend and former NFL coach  is flying in next week to stay a few days. I am crossing my fingers those two "good ole boys" can talk about football, quarterbacks and game days and he'll be a motivator for him. We need a miracle right now.


PS. Floridapossum/ Pamela has started a candle site for my husband and I am amazed once again by all of you. I showed this to my husband tonight and he broke down in tears. 

floridapossum said...

Hey Sweetie did you see all the beautiful candles we've lit for y'all? http://www.gratefulness.org/candles/candles.cfm?l=eng&gi=LI

People are still lighting them. 

All of the candles lit for him all from perfect strangers from across the globe is simply astonishing to us both! 
Your words are like magic and we treasure each letter, message, comment and tweet. 
I only wish I had the energy and time to personally answer each one.  You are all pushing us both forward and I feel you there. You bring us comfort.
I love you all and love your messages of Hope and Love.