Believe Me, I’m Aware

Today as I was sitting in the infusion center getting my 17th round of chemo, I locked eyes with a young woman sitting in the section across from me. It was her first infusion for a GI problem. She asked me ‘Do you have cancer?’ and I responded, ‘Yes, I do’. Instead of asking me questions, what she said was ‘I hope you feel better’. That simple beautiful statement brought tears to my eyes and all I could say was, ‘Thank you.’ In hindsight, I wish that I could have offered her more comfort, tell her that it wasn’t so bad and it would get easier. But it doesn’t get easier which is why I remained mute.

Somethings are now familiar, but not easier. Jim and I know the names of all the infusion center nurses. I know the protocol of getting my port accessed and how long it will take for each of the 4 different bags of drugs that drip into my vein to empty. Jim knows when to bring me ice, when to let me doze after getting the Benadryl and how to unplug my iv stand so that I can wheel it into the bathroom with me. The smiles on our faces when we walk out saying, “See you in 3 weeks” pretty much wraps up this portion of our new normal.

Today marks one year since beginning chemo. It’s been 16 months since diagnosis. AND I AM ALIVE!

What does get easier is living. Seeing the utter magnificence of a sunset, the fog along the walking path, the joy on new parents faces, getting a new clothes dryer, sitting by the ocean, taking a hike in the mountains, laughing with friends, loving my family. This is what gets easier. This makes doing whatever it takes worth it.