My People

Sitting in the infusion lab and getting the latest installation of chemo I look around and realize, "I fit here with these people." At the Cancer Center bald is beautiful and we stare at the people with hair (not really) because there are more of us without hair, lol.

Time in the chair is passed with loved ones and close friends stopping by to sit awhile, crossword puzzles, catching up on email, some watch DVD's, a lot of reading is done and some serious Ipod listening happens. Laughter is the ultimate medicine as you discuss the humorous side of cancer, chemo and it's side effects with fellow patients.

As the 6-hour drip party passes the second hour, the laughter between a group of us is abruptly halted by a harsh reminder that while this disease and its treatment can't steal love and joy, it does hammer you physically. A woman (not receiving treatment that day) is escorted into the lab by one of the caring front desk assistants as the woman is vomiting into her hands and nurses race to get a tray for her. I watch as my nurse leaps from doing something else and lovingly, tenderly puts her arm around the patient and walks her into a private area with a hospital bed and draws the curtain. After a couple of hours, some fluids and observation her husband is able to take her out with a wheelchair. She manages a faint smile as we cheer her on in total empathy.

I've learned that humor/laughter is an absolute must for those battling cancer and their family. A few, and I mean very few patients I've met have no sense of humor, or the ability to laugh in the middle of all of this. But, everyone has to process it in their own way and there's no one right way to cope. However, the sober reminder that this is a battle with serious side effects and symptoms is always lurking, like the woman escorted into the lab vomiting.

I guarantee she lost NO dignity among us as tough as vomiting in public can be. She is brave to us another fighter in the battle. She was a trooper and all of us have been there. She is another anonymous hero to me. I look around at these beautiful bald, wig and ballcap-covered heads and smile. I say silently to God, "Lord, these are my people! Heal, protect, comfort and encourage them with your grace. And for those battling this without Your presence help me to reveal You to them in gentle love when the opportunity arises. Amen."

Every life is terminal. And we are ALL, regardless of our health one day closer to seeing Jesus!