Some people freeze up at the word “cancer”. Some won’t read any further, they’re so scared of it. The fact is, cancer is a condition that many people live with. It’s scary, yes, but it’s also a blanket term whose pathology can vary widely, with equally disparate outcomes.
In my experience, the more I know about something, the more I demystify it, the less it scares me. This applies to everything except spiders. And while we’re on that topic, what is wrong with the people at Hamilton/Burlington’s Royal Botanical Gardens? They are relentlessly promoting a show called Spiders Alive! The only good spider is a spider I can’t see that’s eating bugs in my garden, or a spider I’ve been unfortunate enough to encounter, whose lifeless body stains the sole of my shoe. After seeing this exhibit advertised about 6,000 times on CHCH-TV, I had a terrible nightmare about a massive spider, the size of a tea kettle. I hope the show is a huge flop so no one ever attempts to repeat it. Suck it, RBG!
I seem to have digressed in a big way. Where was I?
Juravinski Cancer Centre in Hamilton is an amazing place. Whoever coordinates their volunteers is a genius. Everything is set up to make a patient feel supported, welcome and comfortable – as much as that’s possible. Nothing phases the staff or the volunteers. They’ve seen in all before.
Last week, I was with a Juravinski patient who’d rather I not identify them by name or illness right now. We had to attend the hospital three separate times. Last Monday, the appointment for a procedure was three hours behind schedule which meant we were there from 9 am until 6 pm. Brutal. But nurses and others came out and apologized and let the patient know they weren’t forgotten. What else can you expect? At times like this, and it’s good to remember how fortunate we are to have this level of health care available to us without having to take out loans or second mortgages.
The second visit, on Thursday, was for a Dr. appointment; a little late but fairly routine. The third, was Friday’s immunotherapy treatment and that department – chemotherapy – runs like clockwork. Everyone makes sure the patient knows all about their treatment, side effects and schedule. The medical staff are kind. They don’t rush. This attitude must come from the top down because it is in every aspect of the system. A patient and caregiver couldn’t ask for better.
And because a sense of humour is important to healing, later, at the patient’s home, this is what I returned with when I was sent out to purchase a thermometer to replace a broken one.
Who wants a boring old temperature-taker when you’re sick? This frog took a mundane task to a whole new level. Bringing it back had the result I was hoping for: laughter.
A healing journey is as unique as the individual’s cancer diagnosis. And whether you live in Toronto, Victoria, Edmonton or Wallaceburg, you know that you aren’t that far from some of the best medical knowledge in the world. How lucky are we? Really damn lucky, and I’ve seen an awful lot of lucky-unlucky people in recent days. I hope we never need to call on them, but if we do, it’s a comfort to know they’re there.
You have put a human face on the health-care system, like you did in your book about Sepsis.