Monday, June 2, 2014

Reflections from a Cancer Center Waiting Room

I'm quietly celebrating two years and 10 days of being done with my last round of chemo.  Back to Winship for CT scans (that are now thankfully few and far between).  For some reason, today I'm really struck by the variety of people one finds when going to cancer treatments.

Like any tragedy, I imagine, cancer is an equal-opportunity killer.  I mean if you want to look at something that truly doesn't care about your socio-economic standing, looks, popularity, whatever, cancer is one of those things.  Obviously, there are things you can do to increase or decrease your chances in relation to whether or not you get cancer: smoking, taking birth control, giving birth, exercising, eating super-foods.  But at the end of the day, nothing can truly stop cancer if it decides to take residence in your body.

In today's cast of patients, I was sitting next to a nun during my lab work.  That's what started this whole rabbit trail of thought.  I couldn't help but think, "Here's someone (by all appearances) who is devoting her life to God.  If she gets hit with cancer, what hope is there for the rest of us?"

Also at Winship today were young parents, a older teenager, the elderly.... Nothing in common but cancer.

I don't have a point to this piece (#shocking).  The reason I started this blog was because sometimes I just needed to ask questions about the cancer process and just toss them into the ether.  Sometimes, I just needed to think out loud.  I have a therapist who gets paid to help me deal with these things; it different when you talk about this stuff to someone who relates in some way.

I have my 30th birthday coming up this year and it's making me super-reflective. Plus as I told one of my nurses, two and a half years ago, I wasn't entirely sure I'd see 30, so now I'm just excited that I got all this extra time (and a chance to use all these extra words.)

1 comment:

  1. Rachel,

    I am soooooo glad you are still doing well. I had similar thoughts when I saw you right after I found out you were a cancer patient. I remember thinking when we first met - with your dog! - that you were so lucky: so beautiful, so smart, a dog person!, so full of life and ideas! And shortly after that you were diagnosed. I pray your health continues and that this is the last time you face a life threatening situation till you are well past 100 years old.