Yesterday I got to go with Susan to her first day of Chemotherapy at the new Death Start: IHC in Murray. It was an amazing facility, and I'm really grateful that she get's to have her chemo there and not have to drive all the way to the U or to Huntsman, although I'm sure those are nice facilities too. Anyway, it's really interesting how...friendly...other cancer patients are. I was pleasantly surprised at the support and kindness that was offered in the few short hours we were there. We met a lot of really sweet people. One woman named Evelyn, who is 75, told us that last summer she was golfing and playing tennis, and that she was skiing last winter and had put up her own Christmas lights, and then had taken them down, by herself. She was so funny, and SO POSITIVE. When they brought in Susan's actual chemo, I said, "Is that the poison?" And Evelyn laughed and said, "No, that's the stuff that's going to make her feel better." This was not the only postive thing she said, but it made me laugh, so I thought I would throw it in there. She was a sweetheart.
Susan did really good, but she said it made her feel tired, and a little weird. I guess it would be hard to describe. It was difficult to watch, at least for my blue personality. I just kept thinking "They're pumping poison into her body." I had a hard time holding onto Evelyn's wise words, that it was helping her.
After all was said and done, I was driving home with the kids sleeping peacefully in the van, and a thought suddenly occured to me. Up until recently, Susan hasn't been able to feel much on the right side of her face. Yesterday she had mentioned how all of the sudden she could feel a little more. She said it was great, despite having to feel the pain behind her eye. Susan had spinal-chermotherapy last Thursday. The thought that had occured to me and comforted me all the way home and all of last night is that, perhaps, the chemotherapy is already shrinking the cancer, and the pressure on her nerves is being released, little by little, and that's why she can feel her face again. Her eye is even opening more, even though she still can't see through it.
I'm really grateful to live in a time of modern medicine.