Becoming a Patient in the Chemotherapy Treatment Room

A year ago I found myself as a patient in the chemotherapy treatment room of our local cancer center.  And in that sentence there were three things that were new experiences for me:  

• patient 
• cancer center
• chemotherapy treatment room  

For many months last year I wasn't feeling well. I was exhausted all the time and started to have days when my extreme vertigo sent me back to bed. I had been mostly healthy up to this point--only needing my annual physicals, allergy medicine, and the occasional visit for a sinus or ear infection.  But in these months, I continued to visit my doctor and complain about not feeling well.  She treated the obvious symptoms if there were some, but for the most part I think she was perplexed by my new hypochondriac tendencies....until my lab results came back from blood work.  The dreaded word arose in our conversation "abnormal".  

Becoming a Patient

My compromised immune system and unknown issues made me a risk to others... and them a risk to me. So, I was benched from my service as a hospital chaplain. I had also taken the quarter off from my seminary courses since nothing worked with my schedule. I started to realize that I was going to have a focused season of learning first hand what it felt like to be a "patient".  

I had never been a patient except when having my two children.  I had never been someone who needed to slow down...or someone who had limitations in life.  Until now... and so I was to learn:

To experience the earthy and intimate side of an illness. 

To live in the unknown between diagnosis and the first doctor appointment... wondering what I was supposed to do and how I was supposed to live while waiting.   

To live in the unknown between doctor appointment and first treatment. The unknown between treatment and next treatment... and next treatment.  And then the unknown between finishing treatment and waiting for recovery.

Then unknown between recovery and follow-up, etc. etc. etc.  

I came to discover the truth of what I had hypothesized while observing others when walking alongside them in their illnesses; 

(1) any medical issue can feel like the ultimate loss of control 

 (2) when it is your health or the health of someone you love, there is no such thing as a "little procedure". Any time you need to go to the doctor, need a follow-up test, or need a procedure or surgery-- it is huge and a big deal to you.  Anytime there is something "abnormal" it creates stress and can open up Pandora's Box of concerns.  

The way I handle these things is to pull deep inside and become very quiet.  I reflect on it all and my mind processes the infinite list of "what ifs".  As I let my mind race, I became more and more stressed.

What if I am really sick?

What if I have a disease?

What if I can't be there for my family?  

What if I can't finish my seminary studies that I have been working on for 7 years? 

What if... 

Yet in all this, I felt God's presence near and was reminded once again that there is always more to your story when God is involved in your life.

One day at a time -- and sometimes just taking it moment-by-moment works best.  

Breathe (how often we forget this in times of stress)

Be thankful for your blessings (write them down if needed and refocus your mind)

Take it one step at a time. Each day is a gift so just try to live that one day well.  

Going to the Cancer Center

For some strange reason, my iron level had plummeted.  It dropped to a super low level.  It took my white blood count down and evaluated my red blood count. All sorts of other anomalies resulted and I was sent to see the hematologist (blood doctor) for follow-up. I was not told where this type of doctor actually worked.  When I showed up for my first appointment, I looked up at the sign over the door and swallowed really hard as I stepped foot through the doors that said Cancer Treatment Center.

It was a tough place to be. "Cancer center" brought all sorts of emotions to the surface.  As I surveyed the crowd of faces sitting with me in the waiting room I wondered what they were each there for.  Young and old--male and female--various ethnic reflections.  Complicated emotions surfaced.  I didn't know what was going on with my health, but there I was. To make matters more complicated, my mom had been undergoing recovery from breast cancer.  And my friend was recovering from lung cancer. Cancer had impacted the lives of so many people I knew and loved.  And now this was my journey... my story to be lived out.  It turned out that I did not have cancer (whew), but still needed help to restore my health.

Receiving Treatment in the Chemotherapy Treatment Room

When I returned weeks later, I was taken for more blood work and my first treatment.  It was a surprise to discover that my treatments took place in the chemotherapy treatment room where I sat amongst many others.   And they, like me, were hooked up to machines that injected various IV solutions into their bodies to render aid in healing. But unlike me, many had a diagnosis that was more serious and required tougher treatments.  I spent my time quietly praying for others around me.

As I sat watching the IV in my arm, the red fluid with my iron supplement flowed into my arm with the aid of a machine. It felt cold and I needed the warming comfort of two blankets. I had hours to sit and wonder about the solution while undergoing treatment.  It made me think about the blood of Jesus Christ, which is often referenced in the Bible and sometimes sung about in hymns. That concept had always been so odd to me and sometimes frankly a bit gross. But as I reflected on where I was and what was happening, all of a sudden a new idea came to mind. What if the idea of the cleansing blood of Christ is kind of like a blood transfusion. Out with the old and in with life-giving newness.  A new life... life not defined by my body function nor the limited days I will breathe and tread the soil of this earth, but a true life that is focused on the earthly AND the eternal. A life forever with God.. starting now AND continuing forever and ever.  I realized how encouraging it was to realize that no matter what was happening in my body, I lived.  I lived with the blood of Jesus in me... and no matter what this earthly life and my illness had to throw at me... I lived. There is always more to the story with God in your life.  

A Year Later

After 9 months of waiting and receiving the comfort of prayers from close friends and family, my levels slowly climbed back into the almost normal range. In the months and months of waiting I examined everything in my life. I had time to take on new patterns of living. 

You better believe I was motivated to have better eating habits, better sleep, taking vitamins, and resuming exercise. I realized that so many things I spent time doing and stressing about just didn't matter.  They weren't "majors". There were many good things on that list, but not all of those things were the BEST things for me or for my family. They didn't make the cut as I made my choices to simplify.  I learned, and am still learning, how to "Be still and know that I am God."  Psalm 46:10  I am learning that it is a great thing to take life more slowly and yet be more fully present.  

My white blood count is still low--and there is no explanation.  My doctors seem to think it may be my new normal and that it is just a number.  But knowing this requires me to continue to take intentional care of myself while I continue to walk by faith each day I am given.  

Just a few weeks ago, I resumed serving as a hospital chaplain.  I realized how much I missed it and I am excited about journeying alongside others again.  

I pray that what I have learned during my illness and treatments will provide me with the ability to show more empathy and compassion.  

I pray that I will love a little more deeply and purely.

I pray that I will listen better and with more depth.  

And I pray that I may offer hope to others in new ways.