Being around the cancer centre for 5 days a week not only makes me face the reality of my situation a lot more than if I just went in for treatment daily and left right after, but you also see the reality of the disease in other people and the impact it has as well, daily. I have my radiation daily in 20B, that's my radiation room. There is a small waiting room outside of it with about 6 or so chairs, and it's generally the same group of people sitting there either awaiting their radiation treatments, or awaiting their spouses/person they are with that is in treatment. There is a gentleman that is having treatment (about 40) who has a brain tumour. He is on temodal, the chemo drug I am not compatible with, and while he has been in his treatments I have struck up conversations many times with his wife. It's interesting, names aren't something you learn around there, but cancer stories, life stories, etc, you do.
Anyways, on this past Friday, she asked how my treatment was going, and so I informed her of my decision, and asked how her husband's treatment was going, because up until that time she had said he was having no nausea with his chemo. He still wasn't, but the fatigue was starting to hit him, and he wasn't himself. He was dragging, he was starting to look like a cancer patient and was needing to be wheeled in a wheelchair around the cancer centre to his appointments. I asked if they had any kids; that was the trigger question. She started crying and couldn't stop, as she cried through her words, telling me her daughters were 15 and 8, and how angry they were at cancer and they just wanted it to "go away!" She then apologized and said, "I'm sorry, I really shouldn't be doing this to you." As we shared some tears, I said, "it's ok, I really understand. I oftentimes think it's easier for the person that is going through the cancer than it is for those around them. People don't understand that just because someone has cancer, it isn't just that 1 person that suffers. Your whole family does." She just needed someone to listen to her, and I was happy to. Her husband's radiation and chemotherapy ends on September 24, and he'll have his first MRI soon after. I'm hoping for the best for him, for them. This disease is awful, but I think the uncertainty of it is even moreso.
~TF
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