"And the candles in our hands
Will illuminate this land
If not tomorrow
Then the day after that
And the world that gives us pain
That fills our lives with fear
On the day after that
Will disappear
And the war we've fought to win
I promise you, we will win
If not tomorrow
Then the day after that
Or the day after that"
("Kiss of The Spider Woman"/John Kander and Fred Ebb)
So what happens the day after getting relatively good news from the doctor about your condition?
You toss aside some of the things you had been thinking about for awhile. Some of the things that you thought you may have to plan for.
You realize that there is a torrent of energy that was inside of you waiting to be released, but it was being suppressed by what you were focused on.
That to prevent the release of the energy is denying yourself, and the others that share the planet with you, of yourself.
You accept that everything could change again in a few months when you have the next round of tests and scans. However, you don't have to get of the horse until then.
You think of ways to torment the Nurse Practitioner who is going to perform a bone marrow biopsy on you at the end of the week. Remember, however, she's the one with the nasty drill bit-like needle in her hand while you are laying prone on the exam table.
There's other stuff that I'll post when I think of it.
Here's something that came out of yesterday. I was talking to one of the nurses about how I believe there is a gap I've observed in the process when one is diagnosed and then treated for cancer. There is time spent up front consulting with the doctor and other staff who prepare you for the treatment to come.
Then, one day you show up to the infusion room or the hospital for treatment. At that point, you have yet to meet the people who are going to be responsible for infusing poison (in the case of chemo) into your system. You would think that they might be a bit sadistic as they make a living doing exactly that. I'm here to tell you that is not their personality makeup. They are very kind and compassionate people who will do all they can to make it a comfortable experience for the patient.
How do we bridge that gap? I recommend the use of former patients who have established good relationships with the folks in the infusion/treatment areas. The former patient could introduce the new patient to those folks and ease the transition. I've offered myself to the folks at the clinic and the hospital to help with that.
If you as a new patient, or if you as a family member/friend of a new patient have not met the treatment staff in advance of your scheduled treatment, ask if there is a former patient who would be willing to introduce you. I'm making that another one of my missions in life. To establish "transition teams" as SOP for all clinics and hospitals. The thought is now out there. You can have it to use for your benefit.
It's a candle I'm placing in your hand.
1 comment:
First! I got no comment, but I like being first!
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