Medical judgement errors (the bad) & love and support from our family and friends (the good).
Here is the thing: we can almost do nothing alone. In other words, self-reliance is a delusion. We need each other to live and thrive in this world! Speaking of my cancer, I will need all the medical expertise from others – assessments done right, correct treatment strategy to address the issues, then carried out right. I will also need to rely on our friends who spend their weekends cooking for us to nourish us and the social network that are all part of our co-reliance.
We have been blessed with so much affection, encouragement and support from our friends and families since the news. Food also started arriving and we could feel the care that went in. We happily lean on everyone’s care and generosity.
On a side note: I now have one permanent taste in my mouth ‘salty’ then two tastes are also present right after food – bitterness and sweetness (very sweet). These three tastes are raw and they don’t blend amongst themselves. It’s like clanking noises. Without a soft bounce, a sound isn’t beautiful. Taste buds have gone awry – like many other things right now in our lives.
We take things for granted when things go smoothly and complain when they don’t.
On day 3, the day after two chemos and drug infusions, I was scheduled for putting ‘clips’ (markers) into the tumour spots so they can monitor them over time. The first radiologist didn’t put them in at all (a judgment error?) during the first biopsy. He put two in lymph nodes instead but didn’t quite complete the job? His decision puzzling.
So now I’m back on the hospital bed with anesthesia administered again and this time they are going to put two more ‘clips’ right into the tumours. Then more imaging to ensure clear comparisons before and after chemo. A few more pictures and now another, seemingly more experienced doctor, arrives and determines the markers are not in the right places.
So the nurses and doctors begin to feel really sorry for me. I embrace their sympathy and I feel sorry for myself too. Back on the same bed, another needle and more markers going in, sorer than ever. That’s when I lose it. I am exhausted, physically and emotionally. I shed quiet tears, then really sob when I finally see Hakan waiting for me in the car.
Good crying is what I needed! Not the energy-draining kind but the release kind. It isn’t always my choice which one comes forward.