Cancer sucks
I was so grateful to see the volunteer show up with cupcakes; her timing was perfect. My brother and I had been waiting for over an hour to see his doctor when this volunteer with treats arrived full of cheer. “I’m a survivor,” she said. “The doctors and my family were ready for me to die.” She continued, “But I said, ‘He’s (God) not done with me yet.’ And here I am today.”
My brother and I were at his scheduled oncologist appointment for his infusion; his chemotherapy was the following day. I have two brothers living with a cancer diagnosis; the oldest recently completed his second round of treatment and the youngest male Johnson sibling is beginning his journey.
This day was my first experience with a cancer treatment appointment. It was pretty much like this: Testing. Waiting. Testing. Hungry. Treatment. Waiting. Thirsty. Irritation. Tired. Done. Of course, experiences with cancer treatment vary from person to person; for the patient and their community of support. This experience taught me alot.
First, support systems matter. The rigorous schedule of doctor appointments, treatments and medications can be overwhelming. I’ve seen the support and love of family and friends make a difference in the life of both of my brothers. I’ve witnessed love in action such as a friend coming in the middle of the night when called, my siblings talking turns visiting, and much more.
Also, a lot of time is spent waiting. At this appointment, my brother had a blood test, a consultation with the doctor and an infusion; medication before his chemotherapy. The infusion is mixed only after the doctor sends the order; it took about 2 hours. Once ready, the infusion is administered intravenously; another 2 hours. It was a long day. My brother had his music to keep him somewhat sane. To keep me busy I listened to music, read some articles and took walks in the parking lot of the medical building. We didn’t talk much during this time. I knew there would be waiting but experiencing it was draining.
Lastly, don’t tell a cancer patient you understand or know how they feel. Unless you had cancer yourself, it’s not a phrase they want to hear. In fact, we don’t know how they feel because it is a personal journey.
Doctors have reported the treatment is working, yet this is a marathon not a sprint. I look forward to my brother, the master griller hosting a cookout after he “rings the bell”. I can see him in front of the grill now laughing and wearing a Cincinnati Bengals apron I promised him. So I better get busy and make that apron soon.
To learn more, visit https://www.cancerhealth.com/ , Supporting a Loved One With Cancer
