Calling all Angels

Yesterday finally arrived to my great relief. As a life-long planner, both personally but more so professionally, it has been my mission to understand everything that will go on, down to the minute, and to plan for every eventuality to make it - an event, a publication, a campaign, an announcement , a meeting, a trip or news conference - go flawlessly. Imagine my frustration when the most I could learn before starting this process is "everyone is different." So I feel a bit like I have been blindfolded and placed on a wild roller coaster with no sense of where its going and where it will end up. Not my favorite thing!

I started the day with a huge blood draw at the lab so all my levels could be checked pre-chemo. Next, on to radiation therapy. A few weeks ago, they performed my "simulation" so they could design the exact direction and dosage of the radiation. As part of that process, I received three small tattoos so that I could be consistently lined up in the same spot every time (28 times, to be exact). Laying on the table, there is a massive arm with a large round camera that swings 360 degrees around you. I felt nothing during the procedure (a blessing).

Then, an hour and a half wait for the chemo. The nurses there needed to check my labs before starting, and the lab has a two-hour turnaround time so my son Taylor and I, who went with me yesterday, found some lunch and hung out and read. (Sidenote: My husband Bill has been amazing. During November and my lengthy testing for the diagnosis and subsequent surgery, he has spent countless hours driving me to appointments, and sitting in waiting rooms and hospital rooms. In addition, Bill's wonderful father, Dick, passed away in mid-November with end-stage colon cancer. Bill also spent many hours with him during October, so it was nice for Taylor to be able to give him a little break before he goes back to college next week.)

As we sat in the waiting room waiting to be called for chemo, I told Taylor how much I missed my mom, Karen, during this chapter. I miss her every day, but even more so now, when her warm, loving touch and comforting words would be so effective. I also know (inside joke here for my sisters) she would tell me "This is character building" and "This, too shall pass.") Here's where the angels part comes in. A few minutes later, we were called back, and introduced to my two nurses: April and Karen (!).

Now I've really never been one who believes things like this are coincidences. It seems to me it was a very tangible way my mother was showing that though she is not on this earth, she is very much with me. That belief was only reinforced by the caring, compassionate demeanor of my two nurses. They took ample time to explain everything that was happening to me - what I would experience, and feel during the infusion. The drugs I would be receiving. The immediate side effects I would feel, and the ones to expect down the road. Suggestions to make things not so bad. These are they traits of angels among us.

If you are a nurse, there are not enough thanks in the world for what you do. And I have been incredibly blessed to have the most amazing nurses at every step in this process. Nursing is an increasingly difficult profession, but I want to affirm to all of them that they can make or break a patient's experience. Please don't ever lose sight of how important your work is, or how much your patients value your kindness and compassion, not to mention your amazing technical skills. You are, indeed, angels among us.