So here is Part II...
...to the Dr. Pepper IV STAT
Like I mentioned before, Melissa and I weren't very serious about the doctor visit the other day. We laughed and joked the entire time she was getting the iron infusion. You know the delightfully, tacky ladies who talk too much, laugh too loud, but you just can't help but keep listening to them and you try not to laugh because they are being obnoxious, but you just can't help yourself. Yep, that's us. But all laughing aside, I did take in the seriousness of those around me that day, and reflect on how we should be thankful for our gift of life.
The majority of the individuals in the infusion room were there for the same reason, chemotherapy. A treatment for a disease we have all been personally affected by whether it is family, friends, or yourself. While medicine has advanced and cancer is being treated and even cured, the disease continues to take the lives of the ones we love.
I watched and listened to those around me that day, and thought about how much of a person's life cancer steals. It isn't just a couple of days trying to get over a cold. Cancer consumes your life.
One of the patients was there for chemo., and it apparently affected him worse than others there that day. He sat there with his two companions he knew too well, the IV pole and a little blue bag for vomit. Although, he continued to get sick in a room filled with strangers and acquaintances, he seemed to be in good spirits, and continued to tell the nurse, "Now that I got rid of that, I'll take that shot of whiskey."
Another man was there for what he thought would be a final follow-up visit with the doctor, he had taken his last chemotherapy treatment the week before. He angrily accepted the truth, when he was told another round of treatment was needed the cancer was still there.
Sitting next to us, a elderly woman was waiting to visit with the doctor. She was going to come back in for another round of chemo. She was a spunky little lady, and was definately not allowing the disease take her spirit away. They called her name, and she walked down the hall to hear her fate. When she returned, I immediately noticed the tears. As she wiped them away, she said, "I can't make my eyes stop." And in the next second, through laughter, she told everyone around her news. The cancer had not spread, her scans were good, her labs were good, and the cancer was responding to the treatment. Her beautiful smile lit up the room as she told every nurse and every patient around her. She laughed through the tears. I found myself caught up with her news, and could feel the tears trying to show in my eyes. I was laughing and wanting to cry with this complete stranger like I knew her for years.
Others walked in, appearing very healthy. Some entered the infusion room for their first time, and their face - an expression of fear. Another arrived in a wheelchair, it was obvious cancer had taken its toll on her. Bald heads, spikey wigs, those just happy to be alive, and others longing for the end, many different types of people entered that room while were there, and it really got me thinking...
Life is precious, live it to the fullest, laugh often, and love those around you.
Until next time...
...We're gonna keep on doin' it Townley Style.
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