I am pretty sure I am not alone in this, but in my life I have done everything I can to avoid vomiting. I hate it when your body takes control and you are at the mercy of a response to an illness or toxic substance. So I was relieved when my oncologist told me that it was his goal to do everything in his control to keep me from throwing up during treatment. He even went on to say that some doctors think he goes overboard prescribing medicine to take three days after treatment to keep from getting ill. I say, “Go for it doc! Don’t listen to those guys.” In all seriousness, as a patient I hang on every word that somehow lets me know my care is not going to be ‘cookie cutter’ because I am not like everyone else.
I soon realized that my thoughts were as important as the medicine I would get to rid me of the cancer cells. I have tried to live a healthy lifestyle that included practical habits in place of prescription drugs. When I first learned I was going on this journey (as opposed to the cruise I normally would be planning), I went online to research what the Cancer Center of America had to offer and the location of the nearest one. The nearest location was almost a two-hour drive and not really practical given how many visits I would need over the next seven months. However, I researched everything they offered to treat the “whole” patient and then found resources in my hometown of Indianapolis to meet that need.
I believe treatment must involve mind, body, and soul, and not blind acceptance that it is just about my body. I already had a strong sense of what stress was doing to my body such as never ending tears, flight or fight breathing, and endless fearful thoughts going through my head. I also knew that my physical response to the fear was not going to help me heal. In my research, I have read that massage therapy, meditation, prayer, diet, supplements and even a few things I had never experienced – Reiki and acupuncture – can help during cancer treatment. So I have looked into all of those things.
As a professional speaker, I am blessed to know some wonderful people, so I called my friend, Dr. Craig Overmyer, a life coach and expert in meditation. He spent three 90-minute sessions with me teaching me to meditate and breathe. The medical community, on the other hand, might replace this natural path of relaxing and releasing harmful thoughts with a script for Ativan.
Armed and ready with all the tools I could gather before my first chemo, I was mentally prepared to face it without fear. I packed my bag with all the suggested items such as a pillow, blanket, bland food items (BRAT diet), iPod, books, notebook and pen, and even hand lotion and lip balm. My husband and 25-year old son went with me on my first visit knowing it would take three-hours. I had many people praying for me that I would be protected from all the harmful drugs that were going to be put into my body.
I entered the oncologist office, signed in, and waited for the woman to call me to the window. She said, “Hi. Take this yellow slip through those doors and they will help you.” I followed her instructions and headed into the “chemo zone” for the first time. As I moved through the area, I saw people in separate cubicles getting their treatments – one was sleeping, some were watching television, and some were just staring blankly into space. I approached the nurses at the desk with my yellow slip and was greeted with, “Have you been here before?” “No,” I replied, “This was my first chemo.” “Well when you come in you put your yellow slip in the slot here and if there are additional slips just put yours behind the others.” Then she asked, “Did you get your blood drawn?” “No,” I said, “I was told to come back here.” “You need to go back out to the lab around the corner and get a blood test first.”
I wasn’t quite feeling the love at this point especially since this was my first time. I knew I was going to be with these people for the several months and was feeling some tension over the possible treatment I was going to receive. Let’s think about that for a second – it’s my first experience of any kind with cancer. Wouldn’t you think they could come up with a more inspired welcome? After all, we’re supposed to be partners on this journey. How about something like “Hi Brooke, we’ve been expecting you. Let me take you around and introduce you to the team. We are going to do whatever we can to make your time here as comfortable as possible. Is there anything we can get for you?”
I entered the small lab area where Vivian greeted me, told me to have a seat, and said she would be taking care of me. I immediately saw that she had scripture on her refrigerator and a bible next to her computer. I asked her if she was a Christian and she replied, “Yes, I am and I am a two time cancer survivor.” I took a deep breath and said a quiet thank you to God for her kindness and ability to put me at ease. I didn’t even notice the blood test as she continued to talk to me and tell me that everything was going to be okay and that God had a plan for me. Can one person make a difference on the patient experience? The answer is unquestionably yes; by their actions and words and not a set of scripted behaviors.
I entered the chemo area again and was told to pick a seat and they would be with me shortly. I don’t have a port in yet so finding a good vein usually consists of a series of needle pokes before getting the right vein. The nurse came over with a heating pad to get my vein prepped for IV therapy and after 15 minutes came back to find a vein. She failed, as the vein on the top of my hand would not cooperate. She asked a young nurse to come over to find a vein and while I was explaining that my other hand might work better, she had already found a vein without causing pain. As a patient you are so grateful for this skill that you are instantly bonded to them.
The first chemo is a series of instructions on what they are putting into you and what the possible side effects could be. The nurse, a 44 year veteran, who earlier had barked at me was now my teacher for the next few hours. She sat next to me and explained all the details of the drugs. She asked me if I had been briefed on the information the oncologist had given me last week. I explained that I read them once, but decided to focus on the way they were eliminating the cancer cells and not the side effects.
We sat and talked during our time together and even laughed. I decided that I wanted to be as normal as I could be through all of this and one of my skills is the ability to relate to others. When we were finishing with the final drug after the anti-nausea drugs, I turned to my nurse and said, “Thank you for being so nice to me.” She replied, “You are easy to be nice to.”
As patients we start out vulnerable and not in control. We can only react to the way others treat us. Only when a clinical person is kind and engaging are we free to change our thoughts of fear and vulnerability to ones of reassurance that we are in good hands. This begins to reinforce a new set of beliefs that say, “I can do this – everything will be okay.”
For the record, I didn’t throw up, and thanks to some great drugs ordered by my oncologist, I barely felt nauseous. Also, if you read my first blog, you know that I was forewarned that my oncologist was in the habit of calling patients at all times. He called last weekend. “Keep it up, doc!”
I am so happy to hear your first visit turned out positive and thank God for the “earthly angel” that ministered to you. He even made the initial “sourpuss” purr like a kitten by the time it was over! (smile) Just remember…this too shall pass…continue to “flow in the faith” as He is faithful to take care of His children!
You may not be alone, Brooke, but you are a singularly wonderful writer and communicator. I know that along this frightening journey of yours, you will bring many delightful moments to the people you touch. And as for you, you will celebrate the silver linings as you always do.
Warm wishes and prayers,
Gale
Brooke you are an inspiration. May your journey be filled with love and support. Terri