Moments of Grace

I met a woman in my doctor’s office this afternoon.  I was there having my port accessed so I could go over and get my MRI.  She was there because she had recently been diagnosed with breast cancer.  She was asking the nurses questions about what to expect.  The subject of ports came up and I told her about mine.  That led to many other questions and we all talked for quite awhile.  There are so many questions at the beginning of the cancer journey and far too few answers.  The answers that you do get are often contradictory and vague because no two people experience everything in the same way.  These are not the types of answers that you want at that time.  You want someone to tell you exactly what it will all be like and most importantly, that everything will be just fine.  You don’t want to hear someone else’s horror stories but you would like to learn from other’s mistakes.  You don’t need to be reminded that you need to look on the bright side (where is that side again?), from the optimistic pollyannas who assure you that you will beat this thing, if you just decide to.  Sure, you are planning on beating the cancer, but you can’t just completely ignore that scary little voice that whispers, “what if?  what if?”.   So I say, ask lots of questions.  Take the answers you receive and filter them.  Keep the answers that work for you and let the others slip off.  Feel free to ask;  some won’t want to talk about it, but for others it feels good to share experiences.  It always makes me feel good when I can ease someone else’s mind by letting them know how it went for me.  At the very least, it reminds us that we are not alone, even in the darkest hours. 

After my port was accessed and the lady and I hugged goodbye, I went over for my MRI.  Once I got there I was informed that they were running two hours behind (shocker.), so I headed home for a nap.  But I couldn’t fall asleep.  I kept thinking of the woman from the doctors office.  She seemed so brave and strong standing there facing down a den full of lions.  I was proud to stand by her side for a moment, lending a shoulder to lean on.  So I dug through my bookshelf and found my favorite book on cancer, “There’s No Place Like Hope” by Vickie Girard.  I wrote a little note to go with it, wrapped it with a ribbon and took it back to my doctors office.  I asked the receptionist if she would give it to that lady and she assured me that she would.  It was nothing big, it might not mean much, but for me it was a moment of grace and I’m glad I followed my heart to it.