we only have two rounds of three treatments left.
one in three weeks; another three weeks later.
we're counting down.
we could be done at the end of april. then again we might not be.
yesterday we decided to put a two-day iv in so matt wouldn't have to be poked today. it was uncomfortable, the nurse said we could take it out if we wanted. but he pressed on. he didn't sleep much, his hand ached and just knowing it was in kept him awake a majority of the night. but knowing there'd be no poke on the third day made it worth it.
when we got to chemo today, the iv wouldn't flush. fluid wouldn't go in, blood wouldn't come out. turns out the tube kinked inside matt's hand. it literally bent like a straw inside. so it was removed. two nurses, two blown veins later, they got a new iv in, he looks like a pin cushion once again. it was almost worse keeping the darn thing in over night. we decided that would be the last time we do it. he can't have a port because his treatments are not often enough and the maintenance is more work with more risk. so now we go back to three days of iv's: left hand, right hand, left arm in three weeks. it's a little like the hokey pokey - but i digress.
as we sat in the room today, there were no james', no energized, ready to chat patients. those around us had been there a few times. you recognize the seasoned patients because, well for one, they are bald, and for two, they just sit quietly and watch their tv screens waiting for the bags to empty and then they leave. most don't talk a lot. they typically don't feel well.
today matt took some work calls, i texted a few friends and took pictures of matt. and then we noticed movement entering from the other side of a room.
the oncologist led a couple in. they were in their 50's i'd guess. he showed them the room, the chairs, infusion area, the books, the water, the candy dish, the bathrooms. he introduced them to the nurses. the nurses said, don't worry, we'll take good care of you.
watching them, my heart broke. most likely, today, their worlds were rocked. chemo was their course of action. matt and i aren't sure who had cancer and who was the spouse, it's hard to tell when they both have hair. i've found one doesn't "look" like they have cancer right away.
he stared ahead. she cried.
they held hands.
i went back to that day.
my day.
the day we were introduced to the chemo room.
it was our course of action.
so many unknowns ahead. fear. worry. uncertainty.
i wanted to hug her. tell her i understood. boy did i understand.
i wanted to give her my hope pile and tell her to cling to it when her breath stops, her chest is tight and her knees go weak.
i wanted to tell her she'd make it. it will be hard, but they would be ok because the Word tells us that.
i wanted to tell her to dig deeper into the Word.
tell her He DOES give us more than we can handle so we'll cling to Him.
trust Him because He knows what is ahead.
our lives here on earth are temporary, Heaven is our goal.
listen to worship, close her eyes and live in that.
read scripture, post it everywhere. memorize it. recite it.
cling to every thing you know to be true.
take every thought captive.
fall on your face and pray.
hope. it's an anchor for our soul.
i wanted to tell her remedies for nausea and constipation.
warn her of neuropathy and tinnitus.
tell her taste and smell are affected by chemo.
they need to increase protein and vitamins.
do they know about night sweats?
insomnia?
what about being so exhausted you can't see straight?
accept help.
did they know her (or his) head would get cold when there's no hair?
their hands would be freezing. to the bone.
there's weight loss.
dehydration.
there were so many things i wanted to tell her.
but i didn't.
i just watched them.
the looked around. she let her tears flow.
they left. knowing they'd be back.
i'm not sure why i wasn't bold. maybe i just didn't want to interfere. interrupt their moment. maybe she wouldn't listen to me. but once they walked away, they haven't left my mind. i'm disappointed in myself. in my lack of boldness. i watch matt day after day; yet i sat back and watch.
next time. i hope there is a next time. yet i hope there isn't.
but for tonight, i can pray.
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