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Okay, everyone, enough of this “boo-hooing” for all of us. I am not ready to quit, I am not ready to give up fighting, and intend to give it everything I’ve got.
All kidding aside, I cannot tell you all how uplifted we have been from all the encouraging messages we’ve received already. It is truly amazing.
I have to admit, we were really “down” yesterday; we were afraid, and we were shocked. However, after a lot of prayer we were both able to rest easily last night, and today has been a very uplifting day for us.
We both had a bit of concern about the diagnosis, and the treatment prescribed, since this is a new doctor, new office, all new people to deal with. However, I have to say that we are duly impressed this evening. Late yesterday, after I called to say I’d forgotten to mention the oxygen to the doctor, the nurse from his office called from Medford to the Karuk Clinic here to get me in to have the test done to see what my levels were. We made that in 15 minutes, and got out just in time to pick up the prescriptions at the local pharmacy. When we arrived home I received another call from Medford to say that all the “OK’s” were in, and she’d begin working on the arrangements this morning.
This morning began with phone calls from Medford, and to and from Yreka, setting up the arrangements for oxygen, along with a new kink thrown in. They wanted to drain the fluid from my lung next Monday (a thoracentisis, I think), but in order to do that, I had to have lab work done today, so after explaining the oxygen situation, she set me up for a 3:40 appointment for the lab work, and although the papers had not arrived yet in Yreka, the doctor’s office said they’d be there, so we dressed quickly and took off for Yreka. The reason for doing it all today is that I heard a news show this morning that said there was supposed to be 10-20 inches of snow over the pass by tomorrow morning. It was supposed to begin raining here early, but it didn’t start until we walked out the door (naturally).
Jim tried to combine “straightening” the road to Yreka, without panicking me, and we made good time. They were ready and waiting for us, and had us all instructed, full of equipment and paperwork, and out the door in record time. We drove to Medford and made it just in time for my appointment.
Afterward, we grabbed a bite to eat in the truck and headed home, arriving back here at about 7 pm. I have to tell you, I would never have been able to do all that without the oxygen, but as it is, I did not even have to collapse on the couch. I could read all the lovely messages that had arrived, and this message is the result.
We are much encouraged by all the effort that everyone we had to deal with today put forth to make everything happen for us. Early this morning when it seemed that it would be impossible for it to happen that needed to be, I had my first doubts about moving so far from the city. Those are now gone.
For my convenience (and at no urging from me) they have even grouped the fluid removal, my first chemo treatment, and a doctor appointment, all on the same day. That’s efficient.
I have a story to tell you all. I’ll make it as short as possible. When I was a child, I was terribly afraid of hospitals, and I remember when I had to visit my brother, in my teens, I almost passed out, just thinking of all the terribly sick people in the hospital. I don’t know where this came from but suspect my mother, since she was this way, and avoided ill people like they all had the plague. I forced myself to go when necessary, but avoided them as much as possible – and after having children, I had to visit them much more often. I never felt comfortable, however.
Then, when I was about 40, my mother-in-law, Betty Stumpf, contracted terminal cancer. She was a wonderful woman grandmother, and I loved her. She had one daughter, but to make sure she had good care, her daughter and I shared sitting with her most all the time until she died, 18 months later. She didn’t really need to be in the hospital all that time, except that at that time (about 1980), she, like many, believed that the word cancer was a death sentence, and after they told her she had it, she never walked again. She missed a great deal of life with her family, especially grandchildren, but we were simply not able to instill any hope in her. I did not regret one day I spent with her. At the time I had three growing boys, a half-time job, and other obligations, but I am so glad I did that. I knew she wasn’t doing any of it on purpose, she just couldn’t function after she knew she had it; she couldn’t eat, walk, or do anything but lie there waiting to die. It was very sad.
After that, I found that my fear of hospitals, doctors, and illness was gone. I no longer did not know what to say to someone who was very ill, someone with illness in the family, or someone who had lost a loved one.
The reason I’m telling you all about this now is because a dear friend I heard from tonight, addressed that very thing. He said “I didn’t write sooner because I didn’t know what to say.” He went on to say “I remember many years ago I had an aunt who had cancer. After she got really ill I stopped seeing her, even after she went to the hospital, because I didn't want to face the problem. Now she is gone, and I really wish I had been there.”
There are two things I want to tell you all, about that. First, I know that many of you feel as he did, and I want you to know that I understand how you feel, completely. And to address that – the question of what do you say to someone who is very ill, the answer is simple. You tell them you love them, you tell them you are sorry, and then anything else your heart leads you to say. You treat them just as you always did. I have another friend who wrote only funny things to tell me, and then said they were praying for me at the end. That was fine, because that’s what he always does. Just let them know that you are still there, still a friend.
The other thing I want to say about it is the fact that it concerns me only because I know that if you should get cancer, and many of you will, with almost 1-1/2 million people being diagnosed with it annually, it is going to hurt you. It will delay any chances of recovery, and I’ll explain that.
We all get cancer when our immune system cannot work efficiently. We have cancer cells in our body every day, and if the immune system can’t or doesn’t destroy them, we develop active cancer. The immune system is very much affected by the stress in our lives. If you have seen someone who has been diagnosed with cancer, who is in such shock that they cannot function, you’ve seen someone whose recovery is going to be impaired.
Stress, and being able to handle it, is going to have a big effect on any cancer you, or a loved one gets, so it is important to get over the big bugaboo about cancer. Cancer is a sickness that is so feared by many, because they have avoided it as much as possible. Those are the people who will be most adversely affected if they contract cancer. It is necessary to de-mystify cancer, and the only way to do that is to be around it. Why would you want to?
Well, if you should get cancer, you will be so stressed out you cannot actively participate in your recovery until you get a handle on it. In the meantime, you are getting more ill, and your stress is causing not only grievous harm to you, but to all your loved ones.
If you know of someone with cancer who is undergoing chemo treatments, ask if you can go with them for one of their treatments. It is common practice for a chemo patient to have a “caregiver” with them. Sometimes the treatments take hours, and you can have a nice visit while you’re there. Take along a book or magazine in case they sleep for awhile. Sometimes they’re given medication to help them relax at first. Chemo treatments are given in an infusing room, a large room where everyone having treatment at that time is sitting in large recliners, or lying, and it is usually an interesting place. The staff and patients form a very family-like atmosphere.
If you don’t know of anyone, you might volunteer at a local cancer center, but you need to familiarize yourself with it, it will lose its mystery, and you will then be better able to immediately go to battle against cancer, should you get it.
Okay, off my soapbox.
Here’s a current report on Happy Camp. Last week was mostly nice, but we’ve had a return of rain the last four days, at least, and they were predicting another big storm through here, calling for up to 20 inches of snow in the Cascades, and Siskiyou summit, with 5 inches south of there.
There was a bit of snow over Siskiyou Summit today, when you could see the sides of the road through the fog, but only a light mist and more fog on the way home. The Klamath River, however, was up quite a bit again this morning, and almost all the bedrock at Savage Rapids is covered with chocolate water. There are waterfalls everywhere, because the ground is simply too saturated to take anymore water, and it is all running off. The forecast called for more rain tomorrow and Thursday, partly clear and dry Friday and Sat., then more rain again. We’re all going to grow webbed feet!
We couldn’t see the river tonight, it was dark by the time we got into the canyon, but no water over the road anywhere, although we did almost run into a big boulder as we came around a curve, it was right on the center line.
Well, that’s about all the news. Thank you, thank you, thank you to all who have written or will write, what a blessing to have such wonderful friends! Wonderful words of wisdom, a tremendous outpouring of love and faith, and it has buoyed us up wonderfully.
We are very appreciative.
Love,
Marcie |
