I was recently out walking laps around 7 West, the Oncology floor here at St. Francis, as I often do while a patient up here. Most times I'm the lone walker, but I have met some folks too. A family member of a patient and today another patient. It is rather odd how we don't introduce ourselves by our names, but rather by our condition...what type of cancer we are in here receiving treatment for. That seems odd, yet it is our battle with cancer that binds us into the "same boat" so to speak so I suppose it is only natural that we use that as our means of introduction.
The family memeber I met back in May, while here for chemo #4, was walking towards the elevators to leave as I was heading that way to circle back around and begin another lap. I pulled over to let her pass to the elevator buttons, but she stopped a little bit behind me. I told her I was just out walking and she could go ahead of me to the elevators. She said, "No, I can't. This is intruding, but I need to ask someone who 'knows' some questions. Please!" Tears began to fill her eyes and I immediately said it was NOT an intrusion and to ask away. She proceeded to explain to me that her 72 year old mother was in here and had been told a couple weeks prior that she had cancer and had received her first round of chemo, but was now terribly sick with an infection in her bowels that she apparently picked up here at the hospital. She asked if I could believe anyone could get an infection at the hospital. I grinned and yes, I could imagine that...in fact I had just completed being treated for a staph infection in my cerebrospinal fluid. She said, "And you've come back to continue chemo." Sure I have, I told her. She told me her mom was refusing to ever have more treatment and so this gal was wondering if it was her place to insist her mom continue. Praise the Lord, I was able to say that I clearly understood where her mom's mindset was right then because I'd been at a point of absolute discouragement when I was so sick prior to them finding the staph infection. I pointed out that when you feel that miserable for so many days on end, you truly reach the point where it all seems so not worth the hassle, discomfort, and continuing with the battle is the last thing you desire. I said that while I didn't know her mom's prognosis, if it were me, I'd not mention chemo at all right now, but instead encourage her through the antibioitic treatments for the infection until she began to feel better and her perspective was able to return. "But I don't want her to die just because she didn't do chemo." My heart broke for this dear woman and I told her that I knew what losing a parent felt like as my dad had passed away just a couple years ago and while my mom is still alive I've "lost" her to her memory. Suddenly we were bound even moreso. I told her to make sure her mom understood that the chemo did not cause the infection; infections are unfortunate possiblities that can arise in hospitals. And I said that once her mom felt better I was sure they'd be able to talk further about continuing the battle against her cancer and that I'd be praying toward that end. The tears continued to fall down her cheeks as she smiled and thanked me and yet again apologized for asking such intruding things. "Not an instrusion at all, I promise." Then off she went to the elevator and I've not seen her again. But I've been praying her mom chose to press on in the battle with cancer. I likely will never know since I can't ask the staff about private info on other patients...plus I don't her name. :-) But the Lord knows because he sent me walking at just that time so that woman would meet someone who'd battle an infection and the mental down-time such added issues can bring to the battlefield. The Lord is the true tie that binds.
Now today I met a patient out walking. She had her mask on and we'd both been down in Main Admitting earlier this morning. She stopped walking and mentioned seeing me downstairs that morning and asked if I finished with my chemo for today. I pointed to my green covered bag and told her it'd be running for 24 hours. She said that hers had run 30 mins each for 2 bags so she was out walking while she still felt good. She asked if I was also in the isolation area and I said no just a regular room. I asked if she had Leukemia and she said no, she had Multiple Myeloma which has no cure, but is treatable and she'd be having a stem cell transplant tomorrow (6/29/10/). I told her my dad had a stem cell transplant 12 years ago for lymphoma and he lived an additional 9+ years after it. She said that was her prayer; that it would work and she could get about 10 more years...as opposed the the 3-4 currently given. I said that I would definitely be praying for her tomorrow regarding the stem cell transplant. She was very grateful and so I'd like to ask anyone that reads this to pray Tuesday and beyond for my "pink-ballcapped-hall-walking-friend" as she has her stem cell transplannt and for those stem cells to rejuvenate her blood supply and bone marrow so she can live longer than now given. But as she said, "The Lord knows what will happen, but who knows, in 10 years they may have found a drug to cure multiple myeloma." So true, I said, they just may. We went back to our separate walking routes with a hearty, "God bless" to each other. I may not see her walking again before I leave as she'll be pretty weak after the transplant for a while, but maybe I'll see her husband and will be able to check on her that way. But if not, the Lord knows...goodness, He knows her name not just her condition! ;-) I'm so thankful, that He had me walking once again at just the right time so we could meet and be an encouragement to each other Such a blessing.
Cancer a positive? Sure, why not? When writing of facing storms and obstacles in life, F B Meyer says in Streams in the Desert, "Dare to trust Him! Dare to follow Him! Then discover that the forces that blocked your progress and threatened your life become at His command the very materials He uses to build your street of freedom." See to me, meeting a stranger on 7 West and chatting with them through the cancer bond that binds us may just, perhaps, be as Hebrews speaks of, a little like entertaining angels unawares. The street to freedom from cancer can be positive for the old hymn is right, "Blessed be the ties that bind..."
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