Reflections on MD Anderson

This is a blog I posted this morning on CarePages, but I know some of you are not part of that post.  Thought I would share it here with my sistas this morning.  This is for all my sistas who are fighting cancer now or have fought it in the past.

We have spent a great deal of time at MD Anderson over the past two months. We knew it, of course, by its reputation and national ranking. It is the number 1 cancer hospital in the U.S., and possibly the world. And people travel to MDA from all corners of the globe for treatment. It is an awe-inspiring facility.

So when we first arrived at MDA, we truly were not sure what to expect. It was intimidating; it was scary to think of Butch being so sick that we needed to be at MDA. What would the atmosphere be like there? All those desperately ill people, all those brilliant doctors, all that world class equipment--how would we fit in?

It is true that MDA is a cancer hospital and the patients there have cancer. You see signs of it everywhere you look. You see people wearing face masks because their immune systems are compromised by chemo. You see men and women pushing their spouses, parents, children around in wheelchairs. You see folks walking along pushing their IV poles with one hand as they navigate the hallways and cafeteria lines.

But what you don't see are people who are dying of cancer. Instead you see people who are LIVING with cancer. People laughing and talking and visiting with one another. You see friends there, supporting their loved one with cancer. You see multi-generational families there, eating a meal together and enjoying every minute of it. You see aging parents visiting with adult children, and sometimes you really can't tell who is the patient and who is the visitor. You see married couples enjoying a glass of wine together at the piano bar before they have a nice meal together. And everywhere you see joy. People who are happy to be alive and connected with the world.

Talk among strangers is common in the waiting areas, in the elevators, in the gift shops. We are all in the same boat. People discuss their symptoms, their individual cancers, their treatments with a frankness and honesty that is amazing. There is no delicate tip-toeing around the "big C" at MDA. Instead there is an honest exchange of information that is both helpful and reassuring, not anxious and frightening as you might expect. "We are here; we are surviving" is the universal message at MDA.

As we sit in the various lounges, awaiting chemo treatment or radiation treatment, we cannot help but feel our cir****tances are not any worse than anyone else's. Our cancer is not so unique. Our chances are not so slim. Our prognosis is not so dire. It is impossible not to feel hope. Surely where there are so many people receiving so many treatments there is success. There is victory. There is life.

There is a great tradition at cancer treatment centers involving a lone brass bell that hangs in each waiting area. Patients who have completed their treatment "ring the bell" as they exit for the last time. Spontaneous applause erupts each time the bell rings. Smiles and congratulations from both patients and staff burst forth like rays of sunshine across the room. And each one of us look forward to the day when it is our turn to ring the bell. There can be no doubt that one day, our turn, too, will arrive. We will survive. We will live our lives. And cancer will only be a small part of our whole being.

We will not allow ourselves to die of cancer. Instead, we will go on living until the good Lord calls us home. Cancer does not signal the end of life. Cancer is only one facet of our life. And life, as they say, is beautiful.

Vickie,

That is a wonderful testimony of the hope that is available to the patients at MDA.  I'm so uplifted by its message.  Thank you for telling us about it.  I'm hoping, and praying that my friend, Ruth, experiences that kind of hope when she gets her treatments for her breast cancer.  I think she goes to Mayo in Jacksonville, Florida.  Her daughter, Crystal, had gone to Sloan Kettering, in New York.  I know that Sloan Kettering and Mayo have great reputations as well.  

Love you.

Trish

Hi Vickie....very beautiful....it is amazing how strong these people can be. I can only imagine what is running through their minds. I admire all cancer patients. It is a tough road!! God Bless them all.

Now imagine a hospital full of just children. That breaks my heart every time I go with Nic. You can almost feel Jesus and all the angels walking among us. It is something I will never ever forget. We go again in January.

I continue to pray for Butch and for you every day and night. I seem to constantly have you both on my mind. I want this all over and behind you once again. I love you!! Keep strong!!

My Yahoo has been down ....hopefully it will be up and running yet today. I didn't get a message (email) from Poepages yet because of Yahoo. 

LOVE and HUGS....connie d