Chemotherapy

Today I sit in a chair. The chair is faux leather, gray, and smells of chloroform. It is in a room of about 18 of the exact same chairs that are filled with adults who are suffering from similar ailments. Nurses with half smiles on their faces at all times tend to the patients' every need... in my case I have a couple of non permanent nurses in my mother and fiance, as well as my main man Doug, the real nurse, making sure I am comfortable.

I am in the chemotherapy section of the Intermountain Medical Center in Salt Lake City, Utah. So far, I am the youngest person in the room by at least a decade. Life is currently crazy.

Kasia, my mom, and myself sit here for nearly five hours everyday. We read magazines, they discuss the upcoming wedding, and we get on our computers. I am currently checking Facebook every five minutes... In going through the book I realize how bad peoples lives are. I am not kidding, I find at least every five status updates that make the claim: Worst day ever.

In no way will I diminish how bad someones day is. No one has the right to tell someone they are having a harder day than someone else. I just find it a bit hard to believe that every 5 of my friends on Facebook are having the worst day of your lives, and if you think you are, lets put this in perspective:

Today, I sit in a chemotherapy room where families gather around their loved ones to offer support and comfort in their fight against cancer. In almost every case the family is having a harder time with treatment than the actual patient. Sitting next to me is a woman in her 60 or 70's seemingly going through chemotherapy for the very first time. Her husband, three daughters, son, and grandchild (who is a newborn) are all here to offer their love and support. Her daughters teared up when they inserted the needle into her wrist to administer a poison that will hopefully keep her alive so she can watch her granddaughter grow up, spoil her, and make sure her granddaughter will always feel the same outpouring of love that she is feeling today.

My mom is sitting in front of me, very patiently dealing with my new found quietness. She flew in on Friday from Atlanta, GA to be here for her youngest son's initial bout with chemotherapy... her trip, although a huge relief to her, myself, and Kasia, is not a happy one. She is watching her youngest son fight for his life. Kasia, has gone from complete jubilation (naturally, I asked her to marry me) and calling everyone she knew to tell them she was engaged to the man of her dreams (I can only assume) to being in a hospital room five days a week, answering phone calls from friends and family every hour or so offering their condolences in regards to me dealing with cancer, again. I am my fathers son, there is no one in the world that I look up to more and no one that I am closer with. He is my psychologist, my best friend, and most importantly my dad. I do my best to model how he handles situations and deals with difficult times, which usually starts off with a prayer to the Big Guy. To Gary's dismay, he will not be here for another two weeks, which means he can not physically be here for me like in all other cases. I am assuming he paces his bedroom alone once he is done watching hockey, most likely reciting the Serenity Prayer. Don't get me started on my sister, she is a mess. Derek, my brother, seems to handle these issues with a grain of salt. He believes to his core that I will get through this with barely breaking a sweat and I must say, I agree.

These people, with the exception of Derek, are having the worst days of their lives. Facebook approved.

Dealing with chemotherapy is strange. The first two days are not supposed to have much effect on you. Today they will mix the drugs into me that "knock me on my back" tomorrow. I will start to lose my hair over the weekend (fingers crossed for my stache staying around).

My body currently just feels off, it is impossible to explain. It is like I have the flu but I do not shake or get cold necessarily. In a strange way I am looking forward to how I will feel in the next few weeks... I do not deal well with the "unknown." Unknown variables are the only things that make me nervous. Pain is easy for me, and strangely makes me feel better, as if I am feeling the cancer leave my body. Emotionally, I am fine. I have become reserved and very quiet. You would assume that this would make most people in my family happy... but it is having and adverse effect on everyone around me. In this case, I do not know how to change it. It seems that my mouth and yearn for talking about myself has taken a back seat to me getting lost in my thoughts. My thoughts are not deep, I am not becoming Aristotle nor do I have a Plato to teach me secrets of the universe. If anything, cancer gives you time to reflect on the type of human you are and ways to be better.

For anyone that knows me fairly well, they know that I believe my first bout with cancer was a blessing. It made me grow up, which is something I was lacking at the time. The second bout is no different. Everyday I learn something new about myself or I find lessons in every situation... it is a good situation for someone like myself to slow down and do some self evaluation and come to realizations. Not that I ever thought there was necessarily anything wrong with me before, but it would be selfish and fairly obnoxious not to learn from any life altering event in my young life.


Ever the optimist in all situations, this will work out. It always does.

Thanks for the perspective cancer... on Facebook and in real life.

Today I sit in a chair. This is not the worst day of my life and I am thankful.