Anyone who knows me, knows I adore elderly people. I am quite simply fascinated by their vast knowledge and wisdom. My doctors and nurses always know that if I'm "MIA", I'm most likely visiting "my" kids, or hanging out with the patients in the 65+ age group. Each one of them inspire me in so many different ways. Recently I found out that they take away just as much from conversations as I do.
I have noticed this beautiful journal-type book being passed around the geriatric portion of the cancer center for quite some time now. Every time I see someone with it I grow evermore curious what the journal contains. I've never asked about it because the "older crew" is likely to tell anyone and everyone about the comings and goings of days gone by at all treatment areas of the hospital. The oldies are much more compelled to share their "cancer story" rather than maintain secrecy. I just figured it was none of my business, so it remained a mystery to me. Although I would see so many patients, nurses and even a few doctors writing in this journal, I never questioned anyone about it's content. I knew some would "spill the beans" to me, or my curiosity would get the better of me and I would ask about it.
A few days ago I finally found out what was being written in the journal! The day started out like any other day. My first stop, once I arrive at the cancer center, is always the nurses station. They pass along messages from my doctor to me, check me in for my treatment sessions and give my daily itinerary. This routine stop often supplies me with a healthy dose of gossip from the nurses, as well. On this particular day, one if the nurses was completely tuned out of our morning "chat session". She was vigorously writing in the journal. I had reached my curiosity limit. I had to ask about this journal, or I was going to burst. The fellow nurses at my daily "pit stop" looked at each other and questioned one another about whether or not to expose the truth about the mysterious journal. After a minute of quick discussion, they agreed to tell me the purpose of the journal. The nurse that was so feverishly writing in the journal looked at me with and ear-to-ear smile and walked towards me with the journal in toe. She placed it on the counter in front of me and said; "This is the "Book of Meg-ol-ogies". I was immediately perplexed by the words she uttered. The other nurses gathered around us and began explaining the stories in the journal.
Apparently, most of the patients and nurses on the geriatric oncology floor were amused by my cancer analogies and decided to write about them in a journal. They told me that one of my favorite pals, Roxie, was the person that came up with the idea. Over the past year I have been in Syracuse we have had many, many conversations about every subject under the sun. Naturally, our cancer struggles are a common discussion topic. I was completely unaware that I frequently use analogies as a way to relate to each other's battles with cancer.
I was stunned that the journal that has been floating around the treatment facility was started because of the random thought process I use to illustrate and understand my cancer, as well as, the cancers my friends. One of the nurses looked up from the journal to tell me that many of the patients and staff refer to me as the "Sophia" of our group of "Golden Patients", yet in reverse. Instead of me being the oldest and wisest one in the group, I am the youngest and most eccentric lady of the bunch. They have even coined my signature analogy starter. Instead of "Picture it, Sicily, 19__..." I begin each of my analogies with "Think of it this way..." Roxie and the other's in the geriatric oncology unit took to the journal when they heard one of my analogies, or recycled one of my analogies to express what they are experiencing during their treatment. They also found my analogies useful when explaining their daily struggles to their family and friends. Each time someone referenced a Meg-ol-ogy they logged an entry in the journal.
I was floored by what the nurses were telling me. I was both flattered and embarrassed at the way my cockamamie brain processes medical information. I was surprised that my fellow cancer fighters even understood my random brain activity, much less absorbed it, comprehend it and/or shared my silly analogies regarding life as a cancer patient. The nurses noticed my anxiousness and intrigue by the stories of this journal. Instead of continuing to verbally explain the journal they all stopped talking and told me to take it and read it. The journal would speak for itself. I picked up the journal and my itinerary before heading to my treatment room.
I began flipping through the pages of the almost entirely filled journal. Seeing all the different writing styles and techniques shocked me. I never knew that so many people took interest in what I had to say. After getting settled in my room, I plunged into the worn-in leather bound collection of Meg-ol-ogies.
My eyes fluttered left-to-right as I consumed the entries my friends compiled over the past year. I sat and read the entire journal, cover-to-cover. As I was reading, some of my fellow patients gathered in my room. They began reading their entries aloud to me and commenting on each other's entries. They chimed in on which analogies were their favorite, which ones were funniest, which ones were most relatable, and which ones tugged at the heartstrings the most. Within minutes most of the unit's patients were in my room. We laughed, we cried, we debated, and we celebrated. It was an incredible moment in time. That day was a truly rewarding and unforgettable experience.
Example analogies:
-Test driving cars to find the perfect fit, or getting a tune-up. We have to test drive different treatments and medications to see what works best.
-Getting those dud French fries that are either overcooked, crunchy nub fry, or the very undercooked fry that is still kind of cold and has a raw potato taste but has a mushy texture. You have to weed through the bad to get to the yummy fries. Just like weeding through bad doctors to find the one who is committed to helping.
-Sticking your tongue to a pole in winter. You knew it was a bad idea going into it, now it's time to face the consequences. Our health is the first part that faces the consequences of our actions.
-Mastering filling up the gas tank of your car. You want to hit on that nice round number, but you don't always get it. With each fill-up you learn the expertise of pumping gas. We learn the ways to cope and control our health issues during our cancer battle. We find out what works best for us.
-Entering a ballad to win the "guess how many" tootsie rolls, etc that are in the jar. You say you've done the calculations to get the closest number, but we all know it's just a shot in the dark. The same is true about healthcare. Sometime you just have to jump in feet first and hope for the best.
Finding the silver-lining in each day is what keeps me going. No matter how difficult life gets it's important to see the brighter side of life.
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