White Blood Cells

Who knew these bastards have such an effect on a person.

Today is Neulasta day. You can almost feel the energy draining from your body. Have I been compensating? Trying harder to make a go of things? Or do I really get this weak? It is truly a maddening set of circumstances.

My prescription was not ready. Waited an hour but no one appeared to be around. Sent eMails to all. Finally went home to rest, only to receive an eMail asking me where I am because the prescription is being prepared. Went back, waited a bit, got my shot. It is really hard for me to stay mad at my Doctors and Nurses. They are all so wonderful to me. Caring and all that wonderful stuff. One does wish things would go just a tad more smoothly at times. This sort of stuff is very exhausting. It takes a lot of concentration to move around at times.

It occurred to me this morning, that life appears to be a lot like buying a new television. You buy a new TV but the crappy programs remain the same. I wake up in the morning, and my crappy program has not changed either. Same old bag, same old chronic condition.

I had a bite to eat at Druxy’s which appears to be the only place to eat at the Princess Margaret Hospital. At the very least, it is conveniently located on the first floor by the doors, just in case you need to make a quick exit. All their tables are for four or more people, which is a bit strange, but who am I to quarrel. There I was enjoying some sort of pasta, looking forward to the bowl of fruit that was waiting next in line, when this lady comes up and asks me if two people could sit at my table.

I love the way we talk. How to answer? I suppose they could. Depends on their weight, disposition, and God knows what else. I smiled and said of course they could. She promptly sat her friend down in front of me while she went to get some food.

Her friend was the patient. She, in turns out, is the neighbour and long time friend. They live in Barry, which is an hours drive North of Toronto. They come in every day for radiation therapy. Lets get real. No one is here for entertainment. We all have some sort of cancer or another. This very charming woman has cancer of the nose and throat. Her nose has been removed. There is a big bandage in its place. Soon to be a new nose.

We had a very long conversation. Specially since I have this wonderful way of asking questions, as in: “So, what happened to you?”. So friendly and delicate of me. I hastened to explain that I too had a chronic condition. Interesting watching the two of us talk about our conditions. Both of us are still totally baffled by our circumstances, wondering what the future holds, and what we can do about things. How to stay positive, busy, active. The same stuff keeps making the rounds.

There I am with a bag, and she without a nose. Damn.

Her husband died three years ago of cancer. Her neighbours husband also died of cancer. I got their address, just in case you want to know what area of the city to avoid. We talked about death, which seems like another recurring theme amongst cancer patients. Nothing heavy or teary making, just a normal everyday conversation about the end of our personal times. Can you spell surreal? They asked me to look up their husbands if I get there first. They are the ones drinking beer, and fishing. Easy to spot.

The conversations amongst cancer patients all seem to revolve around the same topics. I am hardly surprised by this. We talk, come to terms with, and accept a situation, only to go through the same path when we meet someone new. Do you cry? Feel down once in a while? Put on a brave face? Wonder, and keep wondering? Tired? Exhausted? From the situation? From thinking too much? Are you reading? Can you concentrate?

In spite of everything, it was a great conversation. I have to end this with a a story I told the ladies. We were wondering why we find it so hard to sit at  table with a stranger, specially in a place like Druxy’s where there is an obvious shortage of tables.  I had a training contract with the Federal Government. We were located at the Sheppard Centre. The mall had a food court, as they all do. Their tables were huge and round accommodating about ten people. The chairs were those really silly mushroom stools.  You had no choice but to sit with strangers. One of the employees I used to have lunch with was excessively shy. He hated sitting with strangers. Lunch must have been a very tense experience for him. It turns out it was, specially when he went with me, since I will sit and talk with anyone.

There we are finding a place to sit when I locate two seats beside these cute young girls.  No fool I, we sit beside them and I strike up a conversation. So , how are you. The first girl tells me that she is having a terrible time with her period. Cannot believe how hard it has been. You could hear my friend hitting the floor in a dead faint. He didn’t, thank God, but he did mention to this to everyone back in the office. Felt really bad for him.