As I have explained in previous posts, I am thrilled to be at a large cancer center in Syracuse. The physicians, and nurses are at the top of their respected fields. The equipment is state-of-the-art, and the treatment plans are extremely comprehensive. The fellow patients and staff are warm, and more than welcoming. I couldn't ask to be at a better facility. That being said, not every aspect of the hospital can be all sunshine and roses. With every good piece of a news, a bad piece of news is surely to follow.
My bad piece of news came on the second day of treatment in Syracuse. The first day was mostly orientation. I met many members of the hospital staff, my new doctors, and got familiarized with the my new surroundings. The mood was light, and overall quite positive. I remember feeling terribly nervous about the introduction to my new oncologist. What would they think of me? Are they looking forward to working with me? Am I going to be just another name on their list of patients? Will I be just another number? To my surprise, the introductions were successful, as well as, fairly pleasant. I felt confident embarking on a new treatment path. That all changed on day two at the cancer center in Syracuse. I continue to have complete faith in the facility, and the wonderful staff at the hospital. The doubts lie completely within myself. The question at the forefront of all my healthcare concerns is: Do I have the strength to maintain this fight? My doctors and I, are both, beginning to ponder said question.
The second day at the cancer center carried a much darker, and more intense feeling. I sat down individually with each of my new physicians. We spoke in depth about my "case", and my tumors. Everyone loves to chat about themselves now and then, but in this situation, I couldn't wait until these conversations were over. I anxiously sat with each doctor as they asked me a battery of questions. By the time I got to the last oncologist interview, I was filled to the brim with tension and anxiety. I could not wait to leave his office, and jump in the medi-van back home. The questions had become torture. I was passively answering, in hopes to swiftly maneuver through the interrogation. It was working to my advantage until he shocked me with his final statement of our meeting. He told me that the oncological staff will work tirelessly to accommodate my healthcare, but he doesn't foresee a long lifespan in my future.
What the hell? Who pitches that statement at someone, stands up, shakes my hand, and proceeds to usher me out of his office? I was left in utter shock. I kept my composure until I sat down in the car. The minute I fell into the seat, the tears began welling up in my eyes. It was truly the longest ride home of my life. How do you digest that kind of information? I decided I wasn't going to share what the last doctor told me the day before, until I spoke to the other physicians.
The next day I stormed into the cancer center with a mission. I was going to confront the entire oncological staff. I was absolutely sure they would discredit what the doctor told me the previous day. I was floored at what I heard. The consensus was that my life will be cut short due to cancer. They couldn't give me a timeline because I have defied the odds before, but the science doesn't lie. I will most likely run out of treatment options if the tumors don't stop spreading soon. In that moment, I felt my heart sink to my stomach. What have the past four and a half years of treatments, surgeries, and procedures done for me? Why have I been subjected to immense pain, fear, and heartache for so long? Why did I even bother to fight?
I wallowed in that empty feeling for a few days. I'll be the first to admit, I was a SUPER bitch during that time. I was ready to lay down and die. I fully succumbed to my illness, until I looked over at a picture of my family and friends on my wedding day. We all had smiles on our faces, and happiness in our eyes. I could feel the love pouring out of that picture. In that moment, I realized that I got married while battling cancer. The most wonderful day of my life happened amidst my cancer fight. Why should I give in to my illness now?
My life may be cut short, and I will to fight until I take my last breath. My cancer will most likely kill me, but I vow to keep living until that day. I am not just living for me. I am living for the family and friends from the picture that surrounded me on my wedding day, and for all of those who where there in spirit. I'm living for all of the patients that have crossed my path along this cancer journey, and for those I have yet to meet. I'm not giving up. I'm living.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Monday, October 14, 2013
Superhero Day
The best part about being treated at a the bigger cancer center in Syracuse is the fact that they have a children's floor. I was devestated when I found out that the small hospital I started at serviced only adults. I truly enjoy visiting the children each day, and help them conquer their horrible illnesses, any way I can. I have found that we feed off of each other's strengths to help ease the pains of everyday life.
After my first treatment at the cancer center, I found my way to the children's floor. I wanted to familiarize myself with the nursing staff, so they knew I was a friendly face, and not some creeper. I asked if I could take a little time each day to read to the kids. My request was granted, and I have visited the children everyday since. The children and I have become fast friends. I have grown particularly close to a young boy named Nathan.
Nathan was quiet, and extremely shy from the first day I met him. Last Friday he opened up to me. Every time I saw Nathan he looked scared and/or nervous. After I a few days of visiting, I thought I would ask him about it, in hopes he would explain to me what he was afraid of. To my surprise, he expressed his fears to me. He is a fairly new patient to the hospital, and he would be undergoing his first ever surgery on Monday(today). I understood his apprehension. My first surgery was at age 15, and it was my tonsils. His first surgery is at the age of 6, and is a much more evasive operation. I sat there listening to this adorable little boy talk about how scared he was for his upcoming surgery. My mind immediately started churning out ideas to cheer him up. Nothing sparked my interest until I saw that he had some comic books on his nightstand. That gave me an idea.
After talking to Nathan on Friday, I spoke to the nursing staff, Nathan's parents, and family members of the other children. With permission from all parities involved I organized "Superhero Day". I volunteered to bring the supplies if the families would help construct capes and masks for the kids Sunday. The idea sparked from Nathan's surgery, but I knew that all the children could benefit from the superpowers given that day.
Sunday morning I went to a local fabric store, and asked if I could buy all the their scrap pieces of fabric from the weekend. They gladly gave me the scrapes, and I headed to the hospital with fabric, some glitter, needles, thread, and a hot glue gun. I couldn't sit still the entire car ride to the hospital. I was so excited to get there, and start "Superhero Day"! I practically ran to the children's floor when I reached the cancer center. I walked into the community room with multiple bags on each arm. The kids had no idea what was planned. I put down the bags as I looked up at the children and their families. Just then the families all shouted "It's Superhero Day"! All of the kids cheered, and we began making capes and masks. We helped all of the children get fitted for a cape, and personalize them with their first initial on the back. The room was filled with vibrate colors, children playing, families laughing, and a sea of glitter! For the first time, I saw happiness of Nathan's face instead of fear. Being the giant sap that I am, I had to choke back the tears. "Superhero Day" gave us all strength and courage that day.
I woke up this morning to the buzzing of my cell phone. Nathan had a early morning procedure, and his parents sent me a picture of him wearing his cape while being wheeled into surgery. A few hours later I received another picture of him after his operation. He was laying in bed with his caped draped over him, and he was giving a thumbs up. The caption read: Thanks for the superpowers Meg! You're helping me kick cancer's butt!
Nathan, like so many of the other children I have met battling cancer, give me the strength to fighting. They are all of the superpowers I could ever need!
After my first treatment at the cancer center, I found my way to the children's floor. I wanted to familiarize myself with the nursing staff, so they knew I was a friendly face, and not some creeper. I asked if I could take a little time each day to read to the kids. My request was granted, and I have visited the children everyday since. The children and I have become fast friends. I have grown particularly close to a young boy named Nathan.
Nathan was quiet, and extremely shy from the first day I met him. Last Friday he opened up to me. Every time I saw Nathan he looked scared and/or nervous. After I a few days of visiting, I thought I would ask him about it, in hopes he would explain to me what he was afraid of. To my surprise, he expressed his fears to me. He is a fairly new patient to the hospital, and he would be undergoing his first ever surgery on Monday(today). I understood his apprehension. My first surgery was at age 15, and it was my tonsils. His first surgery is at the age of 6, and is a much more evasive operation. I sat there listening to this adorable little boy talk about how scared he was for his upcoming surgery. My mind immediately started churning out ideas to cheer him up. Nothing sparked my interest until I saw that he had some comic books on his nightstand. That gave me an idea.
After talking to Nathan on Friday, I spoke to the nursing staff, Nathan's parents, and family members of the other children. With permission from all parities involved I organized "Superhero Day". I volunteered to bring the supplies if the families would help construct capes and masks for the kids Sunday. The idea sparked from Nathan's surgery, but I knew that all the children could benefit from the superpowers given that day.
Sunday morning I went to a local fabric store, and asked if I could buy all the their scrap pieces of fabric from the weekend. They gladly gave me the scrapes, and I headed to the hospital with fabric, some glitter, needles, thread, and a hot glue gun. I couldn't sit still the entire car ride to the hospital. I was so excited to get there, and start "Superhero Day"! I practically ran to the children's floor when I reached the cancer center. I walked into the community room with multiple bags on each arm. The kids had no idea what was planned. I put down the bags as I looked up at the children and their families. Just then the families all shouted "It's Superhero Day"! All of the kids cheered, and we began making capes and masks. We helped all of the children get fitted for a cape, and personalize them with their first initial on the back. The room was filled with vibrate colors, children playing, families laughing, and a sea of glitter! For the first time, I saw happiness of Nathan's face instead of fear. Being the giant sap that I am, I had to choke back the tears. "Superhero Day" gave us all strength and courage that day.
I woke up this morning to the buzzing of my cell phone. Nathan had a early morning procedure, and his parents sent me a picture of him wearing his cape while being wheeled into surgery. A few hours later I received another picture of him after his operation. He was laying in bed with his caped draped over him, and he was giving a thumbs up. The caption read: Thanks for the superpowers Meg! You're helping me kick cancer's butt!
Nathan, like so many of the other children I have met battling cancer, give me the strength to fighting. They are all of the superpowers I could ever need!
Fresh Start
After a short hiatus, I am back! Life has been busy lately. As most of you know, Jeff and I moved from Memphis to Central New York. We love it here, but adjusting to our new lives have taken some time. Transitioning to our new home, and social life has been simple. We adore our house, and our surroundings remind both Jeff, and myself of the towns we grew up in. I can see us setting down roots here, and hopefully starting a family of our own someday.
My healthcare has been a different story. My body punished me for taking time off the treatment schedule to move. It took some time to procure the medications, treatment plan, and the correct hospital to best facilitate my illness. My doctors from Memphis transferred me to a wonderful doctor here, but the hospital did not have the technological advancements required to treat my tumors. The physician here worked tirelessly to find the perfect cancer center for my specific needs. I am truly grateful for his persistence. Fortunately, I am now, back on track.
I have been at my new hospital in Syracuse for a week, and my healthcare future is looking brighter. My cancer still presents itself with an abundance of challenges, but this new facility has brought me much joy. The hospital I started at was small, and had few "regular" patients. I found it difficult to meet people, and make friends. The hospital staff was outstanding, but I didn't have much social interaction. I missed that, especially coming from large hospitals in Arizona and Tennessee with a ever-revolving door of new, and "regular" patients. The first day at the cancer center in Syracuse I felt the sense of community I was used to feeling at previous hospitals. In fact, the first person I had a conversation with had ties to a patient/friend I knew in Arizona. We chatting the entire afternoon, and I left for the day feeling happy. For the first time since moving to CNY I felt comfortable, and secure with my healthcare center.
The next morning I got a call from my friend in Arizona who knew the woman I met the day before. She explained to me that the woman, I met the day before, called her the minute she returned home from the hospital. She told me how happy her friend was that she met me, and how much she appreciated the time I took to talk to her. She went on to express how wonderful it was for a young woman like me to take interests in old ladies like them(her words, not mine). What she said next took me by surprise, and truly struck a cord with me. She told me that I am doing my life's work. I am a saint sent to patients stricken with terrible diseases to help them cope, and guide them through their healthcare. Lastly, she told me that I have been put on this Earth to mend people's hearts, and revive their souls. Those are extremely powerful words. I didn't know how to react to that. I sat speechless on the other end of the line, and began to cry.
I am FAR from a saint. There are many aspects of my life, and personality I could improve upon. Her words have stuck with me though. I have a lot of guilt when it comes to the type of daughter, sister, wife, and friend I am. I wish I was better at being all of them, but I am comforted knowing that I have helped, even one person, navigate their way through cancer treatment.
My healthcare has been a different story. My body punished me for taking time off the treatment schedule to move. It took some time to procure the medications, treatment plan, and the correct hospital to best facilitate my illness. My doctors from Memphis transferred me to a wonderful doctor here, but the hospital did not have the technological advancements required to treat my tumors. The physician here worked tirelessly to find the perfect cancer center for my specific needs. I am truly grateful for his persistence. Fortunately, I am now, back on track.
I have been at my new hospital in Syracuse for a week, and my healthcare future is looking brighter. My cancer still presents itself with an abundance of challenges, but this new facility has brought me much joy. The hospital I started at was small, and had few "regular" patients. I found it difficult to meet people, and make friends. The hospital staff was outstanding, but I didn't have much social interaction. I missed that, especially coming from large hospitals in Arizona and Tennessee with a ever-revolving door of new, and "regular" patients. The first day at the cancer center in Syracuse I felt the sense of community I was used to feeling at previous hospitals. In fact, the first person I had a conversation with had ties to a patient/friend I knew in Arizona. We chatting the entire afternoon, and I left for the day feeling happy. For the first time since moving to CNY I felt comfortable, and secure with my healthcare center.
The next morning I got a call from my friend in Arizona who knew the woman I met the day before. She explained to me that the woman, I met the day before, called her the minute she returned home from the hospital. She told me how happy her friend was that she met me, and how much she appreciated the time I took to talk to her. She went on to express how wonderful it was for a young woman like me to take interests in old ladies like them(her words, not mine). What she said next took me by surprise, and truly struck a cord with me. She told me that I am doing my life's work. I am a saint sent to patients stricken with terrible diseases to help them cope, and guide them through their healthcare. Lastly, she told me that I have been put on this Earth to mend people's hearts, and revive their souls. Those are extremely powerful words. I didn't know how to react to that. I sat speechless on the other end of the line, and began to cry.
I am FAR from a saint. There are many aspects of my life, and personality I could improve upon. Her words have stuck with me though. I have a lot of guilt when it comes to the type of daughter, sister, wife, and friend I am. I wish I was better at being all of them, but I am comforted knowing that I have helped, even one person, navigate their way through cancer treatment.
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