I took mom for her chemo treatment on Wednesday. Dad isn't feeling so good from his own chemo. And he didn't say this, but the last time mom got chemo it was all so painful for mom that dad was fazed. Very fazed. We had the commute from hell. Bad way to start the day. Mom feels guilty that I am taking care of her. Mom went right in for the pre-chemo blood tests. Then we sat and sat. We got anxious. The chemo treatments have not been going well. There is much pain and it takes the entire day. Mom's doctor was late. We waited for what seemed like forever. We tried to eat. No good. We tried to shop the gift shop, no good. Nowhere to go.
We went back up stairs and sat down in the internal waiting room. It's a smaller cozier and quieter waiting room where usually the people who are bringing their friends and family are waiting for their charges to return from their therapies. A lady who had just brought her husband in to see the doctor was sitting there. Her eyes were red rimmed, she looked like she needed a good night's sleep. The lady was looking around room. I imagine she was sizing up us others and trying to decide if we were patients or care givers. I assume she thought we were all care givers, my mom happens to be looking great these days, and for some reason, unlike a regular New Yorker who arrives at the hospital in something comfortable like sweats, mom puts on her finest new fall wardrobe. So the lady looks around, thinks (I am assuming) we are all not cancer patients and begins to cry. Then she starts asking every one how they are dealing with "this" and she starts to say how badly her husband is doing. He is wheelchair bound, unable to control his bodily functions, she can't take care of him anymore. Mom and I are trapped in our seats. I take her hand. The talking lady goes on and on. Another lady is offering the talking lady comfort and suggestions. Mom and I are hearing everything. We can't get up and run. We are both paralyzed. I don't know if mom is hearing this and thinking that it is where she is going or if she is hearing this and imagining that dad will soon be at this stage. But I can see the look on mom's face and I know that, like me, she has not been thinking this far ahead. Then the nurse comes in and calls mom's name. I spring up from the chair, grab mom's arm and hustle her towards the exam room and away from the talking lady. We are shell shocked. We look at each other. No one says a word.
So hard. And so unfair that this is hitting you twofold. I think you are coping well, but of course I am outside looking in. Don't forget to take care of yourself.
Posted by: danelle | October 13, 2007 at 02:01 AM
Nothing but good vibes heading your way. I am sending all the good vibes I have.
Posted by: Laura | October 15, 2007 at 12:25 PM