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Treatment #6

¾ of the way through. 75% completed. That’s how far along I am officially after today’s treatment. It isn’t the end, but it is finally starting to feel like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

Today’s waiting room music was quite different. I think the station may have been some kind of a pop station…the song was 1234 by Feist. I can’t find anything particularly symbolic about that one, but it was a good change of pace.

I am tired tonight, but I am feeling good so far. The last time the pain didn’t start until Friday night, so I’m hoping I’ll make it through the day tomorrow before it I have to deal with it this weekend. The doctor told me today that if I rested more during the bad part, I would probably have any easier time next week. I will definitely try to take his advice.

I watched a 3-hour movie today during my treatment (Tess—the old one with Nastassia Kinski). The movie was a great way to pass the time, but when I’m plugged into my laptop like that I miss out on chatting with the other patients. In addition, the Benadryl made me really tired so I don’t think I would have been much of a conversationalist, anyway.

Even though I didn’t do a lot of talking, I was able to make some observations. I was struck, once again, by how really incredible oncology nurses are. I think that the woman sitting next to me was there for maybe her second appointment. She had just had a port put in and was going to have the stitches removed this afternoon. The problem was that the area was still really tender and that there were stitches right over the place where they needed to access the port. There were about four nurses standing around her chair consulting and trying to figure out whether they could use the port or whether they would need to access a vein through her hand. They determined that they couldn’t use the port because of the stitches, and the poor woman burst into tears. The nurses were so amazing. They surrounded her, murmuring supportive words, and they knew exactly what to say. One nurse held her while she cried and another held her hand and one wiped her tears. What was amazing to me was that this was not gratuitous or false sympathy in any way…they were absolutely sincere. You could see it in their faces and hear it in their voices. They knew instinctively precisely how to handle the situation. Every other patient in the room was touched by the scene, because we were all so grateful to the nurses for handling the situation perfectly.

Once the woman got herself under control enough to talk she apologized and said that she had been having a lot of trouble with each stage of her treatment so far and that she thought that it was all just getting to her. She also said that she was upset because she just found out that her neighbor had cancer. She stopped the sympathetic murmurs of the nurses though and told them that she didn’t even really like the woman because she was so mean, but that she was still upset about the diagnosis. (This made everyone in the room laugh.) And to top it all off, she then told them that she was also upset because her friend had been in a car accident this summer in which both of her legs and one of her arms were crushed. She lost her arm from the shoulder down, and had spent the summer going through rehab for that.

Another woman came in who did not have a port and the nurses were concerned about using the vein in her arm for chemo because it was bruised from another recent needle stick. They decided to use her hand instead, but had a hard time getting a vein in her hand. They were so patient and gentle with her, as they always are, and they took their time getting her hooked up, but they did it eventually.

I could never do their job. It takes a really special kind of person to be a nurse, and a really incredible kind of person to be an oncology nurse. They are the key part of any oncology practice and in many ways are more important than the doctors. I haven’t met one nurse at my oncology practice who is not friendly and kind and personable and knowledgeable. They always make my visits easier and I am so thankful for all of them.

Comments

You have such a compassionate way of writing -

6 down, 2 to go. I'm pulling for you! You're almost there!

Yay Kim -- glad there's a light at the end of the tunnel!

I had to sit at the cancer center once a week last year for 10 weeks to get some IV treatments (not cancer-related) and I, too, noticed how kind and compassionate all the nurses were. It takes a really special person to commit to that job. I'd have a hard time not knowing what happens to patients after they leave.

Oncology nurses are the best! I went through my treatment in Arkansas and now have follow up in Pennsylvania and the nurses are the same. They are absolutely priceless, aren't they?

Oncology nurses are Angels on earth :)

You're almost at the end -- wow! You handle it all with such amazing aplomb. I hope this weekend turns out to be a good one for you, mentally and physically.

I am so glad for the nurses - and for your amazing ability to find the blessings (such as they are)in this situation. I will continue to pray that more and more of these blessings surround you and bring you comfort and healing. Love, Cynthia

Be strong Kim! You're almost there.

Thank you for writing about this,

Scoplaw

I've got to agree with you about the oncology nurses. You never appreciate what a great nurse can do until you have a bad nurse (don't get me started). They need our prayers and support as well. To do what they do as well as they do it must take allot out of them and their families. I had to write something today about the subject on my blog. Thanks for bringing this up.

Kim,
You are one incredible woman! Instead of complaining or feeling that you should not be there, you are focusing on others and finding pleasure in their care. You have an enourmous heart and will get through this- you are an inspiration to anyone going through a hard time. You are doing what Jesus would do! I'm praying for you and your family. Blessings! Karen