Early on in the diagnosis stage I was forced to go in for the dreaded bone marrow test. You know the test (and if you don't then you're lucky). It's the test where a needle the length of your arm with the diameter of a turkey baster gets shoved down into the back side of your hip, chips off a piece of your bone, and sucks out some marrow. Ever since this experience I wince when I watch the food network and someone talks about the succulent taste of a calf's marrow. Poor little cow. I do still love a good hamburger though. But I digress...
My family (made up of mom, dad, sister, and myself) were all headed to the doctor's office together. For a reason that I don't remember, we drove in two separate cars and I rode with my big sister. She's three years older than me and for most of our lives I looked up to her and wanted to be around her and her friends whenever I could. Not just because they were "older ladies" but because I thought my sister was the coolest. She, however, saw me for what I probably was, an annoying little brother. It wasn't until just before my fight with cancer began that we had started to become close and, as you conquerors of cancer will begin to learn, now that I faced the possibility of walking into the light a little sooner than we had all hoped, she had become my biggest cheerleader which she was qualified for as she was the cheer captain at her high school back in the day.
There was a lot of traffic that day as we drove from our house to Scripps pavilion, our hospital. My sister and I were talking and enjoying our drive together as much as anyone could knowing what was about to happen to precious bones in the next fifteen minutes. As we got closer to our exit from the main road into the parking lot of Scripps the traffic got a little heavier. My sister, sensing her need to get over two lanes to our exit, grabbed the steering wheel with both hands, tightened her grip, leaned forward squinted her eyes as she began to figure out how she would weave through traffic and get us to our destination. We had gone from relaxing drive to a mission based objective in less than 30 seconds.
We were about one block from our exit when she saw what should have been an opening to our final lane. Like any good California driver, my sister put on her blinker and checked her mirrors and blind spot. Just as she was about to make her move the man in our desired lane that we would now in be front of decided he didn't want us there. He, like the other drivers in California, sped up just enough to keep us from getting in and stayed just slow enough that he wouldn't pass us or let us see his face. And then it happened. Our block came and we were not in left hand turn lane when it did. We arrived at the traffic light one lane shy of completing our mission all because some guy didn't want to lose the unspoken race to different locations. But it was more than that to my sister. This man had not just kept us from passing. For her he represented opposition to my life. He was trying to keep her brother from living (I wish I could say I were adding dramatics here) and she was going to let him know it!
Unfortunately for him, the traffic light was red and our cars were stopped on the line side by side. My older sis prepared for battle as she rolled down her window. She was so pumped that she didn't wait for it to open as she began to lay into the rude motorist. She also didn't recognize that his windows were not open.
"Do you realize we needed to turn here!?", she yelled. "My brother is dying and you're keeping him from getting the treatment he needs! It's because of people like you that this world is so jacked up!! Now were going to be late and it's all your fault. Look at him don't you see how sick my brother is!?"
I don't think the man ever heard a word but he got the message. His response was a simple one finger gesture as the light turned green and he drove off. We didn't miss our appointment. As a matter of fact we just pulled into the second entrance that was less than 1/2 a block after the first. But something significant happened that day.
My sister, who couldn't physically fight what was happening inside my body, was doing whatever she could to fight for my life. For her the battle was found by driving me to the hospital for a bone marrow test I didn't want to have. For others it was shaving their heads in my honor. And still for others it was allowing me to attend school just for the social aspect so that I could feel normal. Today you should cheer up knowing that you are not alone. People all over this world have got your back. No they don't feel what you're feeling and no they can't truthfully say they understand but they do want you to win.
That's why they walk marathons, wear ribbons, golf, pray, and even write blogs about cancer. It's their way of being a part of the battle with you.
Today you can cheer up because you're not alone in your fight. People you don't even know are fighting with you. So if someone cuts you off on the way to your next doctors appointment, write down their license number and let me know. I'll call my big sister and she'll do her part too.
Showing posts with label About Others. Show all posts
Showing posts with label About Others. Show all posts
#3 - Your Idiot Meter
"Hey I know you!" I heard shouted from across the quad as I made my way to school's front office to register for my jr. year of high school. I had been diagnosed with canceritus for about a month and was still going through testing to see how far progressed the cancer was. I was registering for school because we assumed at this point that treatment for my disease would be less invasive than most and I could carry on with life as usual. I still looked normal (as normal as teenager boy at sixteen can look) with the exception a bulging neck which I wasn't quite ready to admit wasn't just some amazing muscle tone developed from my vigorous workouts in the gym.
"Hey, wait up!" I heard again from the same voice who shouted before, only this time I realized whoever they were, they were talking to me. I turned to see a kid I didn't know running up to me. I don't remember much about what he looked like other than the fact that he seemed very excited to talk to me. There was an enthusiasm in his gait as he trotted up to me as if he were a puppy and I, his owner, had just gotten home from work with a treat. Okay that's dramatic but when I think of what happened next I realize this young man, like many you may encounter, was about as smart and socially aware as a pup.
I stopped to wait and when he finally made it to me he had to stop for a moment to catch his breath. I remember thinking whatever he had to say must be pretty important. "I know you," he started, "you're that kid right?"
"What kid?" I answered.
"THAT kid.", he said again as if I had missed out on some major news story that had broke about some kid who had done something and apparently looked just like me.
"What are you talking about?" I asked again.
And here it comes. This was the moment that I realized having cancer provides you with a power that exposes more than the moles and dents on your scalp. This is when I realized facing this disease would not only make me stronger it would make me able to see things I had never seen before.
"You're that kid who's dying right!?"
It wasn't said with sympathy. More a sense of bewilderment and amazement, much like you expect the circus freaks for the 1800's felt as observers past their cage. He didn't know me but he knew what was going on. Apparently a lot of people did and they were talking about it. And here I thought I was just getting better looking. I can't say I blame the young man for his ignorance. It's not like I've never stopped and stared at a person who is obviously balding from cancer or someone who has a disability. The truth is we all have and do. Here's the two things I learned from this experience.
1. People get funny when faced with disease, disability, or difference. They're intent is not rudeness or malice, they just can't help but stare at the catheter protruding from your body. Let's be honest, you've stared at it a bit too. The good news is that you too were once and idiot but you've been blessed to have idiot meter installed along with that i.v. From now on you won't look upon others with awe or even pity. You get it. You understand more of what they're going through. You'll be able to empathize like never before because you too have been on the receiving end of the awkward looks and whispers.
2. If people are going to be funny about what's happening to me in life, than I'm going to have some fun with it. My response to this young man when he asked if I was the kid who was dying was "Yep that's me, can I borrow some money for lunch. It may be my last meal." And then I went off to register for school with a $5 bill in my pocket.
So cheer up. You've Got Cancer and now you're a bit better for it!
