More than just a hard candy

Waking up this morning, I was dreading going to the hospital for treatment.  My husband and I both had a relaxing day off yesterday.  We haven't had a calm, low-stress day together in months.  It was a breath of fresh air.  I didn't want the relaxation to end, but Jeff and I both had to get back to reality today.

I headed to the hospital carrying a chip on my shoulder.  With a new diagnosis comes a new treatment plan.  My body is still getting used to the new medications, the new radiation types, and jumping back into chemotherapy.  Sadly, I've gotten used to being thrown curveballs, so my body is pretty used to going through many changes.  I generally adjust pretty well to the physical changes.  My mental state, however, takes the hit much harder.  I get comfortable with my doctors, nurses, techs, and other patients in the unit.  They all turn into my little "hospital family".  With such strong focus on aggressively treating the sarcoma, I have been uprooted to a new area in the hospital.  It was a challenge for me to make connections when I relocated to Tennessee from Arizona.  Now that I have formed friendships within one section of the clinic, I am being forced to move.  The unit with the equipment needed to perform the treatments necessary to my healthcare is on the opposite end of the hospital.  Of course, I can still visit the other areas, but I no longer feel like a part of my "hospital family".  I am worried that it will take another year to form bonds within the new unit.

I felt like a just another number when I walked into the hospital this morning, but after meeting a very special lady, I am singing a different tune.  Since I am unable to drive with the amount of medications I'm on, and the side effects of my treatments, I receive rides to and from my appointments from hospital volunteers.  Most days I get to the hospital early, or have to stay past my appointments because of the medi-van schedule.  In general, I don't mind spending extra time at the hospital.  I enjoy chatting it up with the nurses, and meeting new people.  

It was a rare slow day the hospital today.  Not nearly as many patients were there than usual.  My ride came earlier than expected, and when I got to the hospital my doctor told me maintenance was repairing the machine needed to conduct my treatments.  They were running roughly an hour behind schedule.  I went out into the common area to watch the Today show while I was waiting.  There was only one other woman in the large waiting area.  She seemed pretty wrapped up in the news program, so we exchanged pleasantries before I chose a seat.  I was listening to Matt Lauer and Al Roker banter back-and-forth while I caught up on Word With Friends.  At a commercial break the woman sitting a few seats down started unwrapping a hard candy she pulled out of her pocket, along with a stash a facial tissues.  She leaned over a bit towards me and asked if I would like a cinnamon disk.  I politely thanked her for the offer, and reached out for the treat.  As I was unwrapping my piece of candy, thoughts of my Grandma came to mind.  She always kept cinnamon Certs in her purse.  She would give them to me and my sister all the time.  The woman went on to tell me that she keeps sucking candies in her pockets at all times to suppress her appetite.  She said that if it wasn't for the hard candies she hoards in her pockets, she would be constantly stuffing her face.  I couldn't help but giggle. I would never believe that this little old woman has such a large appetite.  She must be all of 90 pounds.  

After breaking the ice with candy offer, the woman slid down a few chairs next to me.  She said she had to come over to look at the "paint" on my arm.  She was referring to my tattoo.  I explained to her that it wasn't paint.  It was a tattoo.  She was very intrigued by it. She grabbed my arm and twisted it around to see every angle.  We talked about it for a little bit.  I told her it wasn't complete yet, and that I am getting it finished on Saturday.  From there, we went on to talk about my family, her family, her children, my puppies, the weather, random news stories and life in general.  I felt very comfortable around her.  It was like I've known her for years.  She had so many similarities to my Grandma.  I took me back to all the wonderful times I spent with my Grams.  

The time flew by.  When I heard the nurse call my name to head back to the treatment room, I was sad our conversation had to end.  The entire time I was getting my chemo, I was thinking about my Grandma.  She was such an important presence in my life, especially after she came to live with us in WI.  I wish I would have gotten more time with her as an adult.  She always knew the right things to say when I was sad, mad, frustrated, etc.  She could always make me laugh too.  She was a remarkable woman.  The woman in the waiting room brought back such wonderful memories of her to me.  Those memories helped me get through a long morning at the hospital.

After my chemo session was complete, I couldn't wait to go back and talk to the little old lady in the waiting room.  She was no longer sitting by the TV when I finished my treatment.  I knew it was more than likely she would be gone when I returned, but I was hoping she would still be there.  Just as I was walking down the hall to hitch a ride home I heard a voice down the hall call out to me.  It was the adorable woman screaming out to me.  She said that I had to show her the complete "painting" on my arm next time I see her.  I walked towards her to thanked her for the nice chat we had today, and to let her know I will be sure to show her the finished tattoo.  She smiled and said "What do I call you?  Other than the painted lady".  I told her my name was Meg.  When I asked her name, I was taken aback by her answer.  Her name is Alice.  My Grandmother's name was Alice.  I was shocked by the irony.

The striking irony made me think about a conversation my mom and I had the other day about God and praying.  She always tells me about how she asks God for guidance, and to take care of me.  My response to that is always the same.  After years of illness I find it difficult to talk to a person that may, or may not exist.  Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against prayer and/or devotion to God. I just prefer to ask for guidance from the people in my life whom have past on.  The two people I talk to the most are my Grandma Alice and my Aunt Sister Pat.  I had strong connections to both of them.  I always have, and always will cherished their wisdom.  

With all the new challenges that have been presented to me the past few weeks, I have been asking my Grams and Sister Pat for a sign to show me that I'm making the right decision.  Today I got my sign.  My time here just might not be up yet.  This life, no matter how difficult it may be at times, is worth fighting for.

Sidebar - Thanks to my amazing husband for figuring out the formatting!  I hope it makes my blog easier to read!