I was waiting to go into my chemo appointment and was sitting across from a woman who was clearly in a fistfight with larynx or esophagial cancer. My clues were the large, angry horizontal scar where her neck meets her chest and her raspy voice. She looked pooped. Radiation battle weary, but a real beauty. She was a tiny, friendly woman who loved to talk, watch One Life to Live, and at the time was either loving or hating her sleep. She drifted off and began to talk in her sleep. She reached for something while she slept. She kept reaching, stretching and reaching until she almost tumbled from her chair. She was reaching for something the rest of us couldn't see. She kept reaching for it as far as she could until she woke herself up. She laughed and started talking more about Dorian Lord, then fell right back to sleep again. I hope she eventually touches whatever it is she's reaching for.
My cousin Janet and Dad accompanied me to this appointment. It was a quick day trip for blood tests, Dr. appointment and Avastin. I warned them both ahead of time it would be a gritty, full of gnarly graphic details appointment. "Not for the faint of heart. Hit the door if it's too much for you", I said. I'll spare you the details, but it did require me rehashing my story four times for four different members of my "dream team". Then again later to Jules who couldn't be there and Becca, Janet's sister, who is an LVN. I'm not sure I've seen my Dad laugh that hard in years, not to mention Janet. I'm certain they weren't laughing at my expense, but at the reactions, questions and suggested solutions for my discomfort. The fifteen minutes we spent laughing hysterically until we all realized we were crying was worth it.
We had a great Kiker Family Reunion this weekend as well. Good times catching up, but once again, too short. Thanks for hanging out with us for the day Janet. I'm glad to know you'd do it again.
smak, jab,
jan
