An Infusion of Love
As Anton and I celebrated our wedding anniversary in the cancer clinic this week, we were profoundly enriched by time spent with fellow patients. "Love is so supremely important."
To set the scene….
It’s our 19th wedding anniversary and also clinical trial day one of cycle two. The night before my infusion Anton and I stayed across the road from the hospital, serenaded by sirens, in a motel room paid for by the clinical trial.
At 8am I wandered across the road with a handbag full of medication and had the first of the three blood tests I’d have in the next 24hrs. I removed my top and lie exposed as sticky dots are placed all over my body for an ECG, then leaning over the consultation table, discussed my life and my future with my specialist. I walk around holding hands with my infusion line as chemicals drip in. My vital signs are periodically monitored by my nurse. She checks my pulse, blood pressure, temperature and oxygenation…. CUT
Doesn’t read like a romance novel does it? It could though. If we changed a few details, a few words here and there. What if the motel was on a Pacific island rather than opposite a hospital? Serenaded by ocean waves rather than sirens? What if it was Anton opposite me at an intimate table for two as we discuss life and future? What if I carried flowers and had three glasses of wine over the day instead of medication and blood tests? You get the point.
Happy anniversary hun. What a romantic celebration.
But really it’s all a matter of perspective. How we choose to embrace it. Mourn what it’s not, or discover what it could be.
And on Tuesday, thanks to other cancer patients, we did have a delightful day, discovering much about life and love.
Because even though that was exactly how the day began, it didn’t end that way. Let’s get back into it…
…After my nurse is assured I’m settling into the treatment well, I reach into my handbag and pull out large box of Roses chocolates. Smiling knowingly at Anton, I open them and offer her one. “It’s our wedding anniversary, celebrate with us.” As she opens the crinkly colorful wrapping, I explain to her that we’d like to go around the cancer clinic and share the chocolates with the other patients there. She knows this is likely to tire me out but can see that this simple gesture will be a delightful distraction to others, so graciously humors our initiative.
As we slowly make our way around the room, taking time to savour a moment with each person, connecting with the hearts of people who are attached, like me, to a tube feeding them with chemicals, we discover the infusing power of love and family.
Like giddy, naughty teens, we were late back to my easy-boy, and as my nurse reaches for her blood pressure monitor, I sink into the depths of it’s comforting cushioning. An hour passes, the infusion rate increases again, I can feel the pull of chemical induced sleep. I reach over and hold my husbands hand. We are here, we are present in our reality, and yet are both filled with an intimate joy that comes from experiencing life on the edge of eternity.
Pretty good ending right? Might not make a romantic novel, but it certainly invites us to look for opportunities to carry love and reach out to others with tenderness.
It’s our wedding anniversary, come, celebrate with us.
As I have observed my fellow the cancer clinics occupants over the last month, I’ve reflected on the mix of ages, ethnicities, genders, socioeconomic status found here. Cancer is happy to invite anyone. No one is exempt from its touch. As we have our treatment, each patient and their support person mostly wait quietly, eyes avoiding contact, wait for the infusion to finish, wait for healing, wait for death.
This week, getting up out of our pod, breaking out of the waiting space, broke the ice. We were no longer sad strangers or powerless victims across the room. Despite our differences, we are connected by our cancer, our treatment, our waiting, but more powerfully than that, as we discovered, we are connected by our love for our family.
Some of the people we shared chocolate with were only hanging on to a fine thread of life. Some had been through many rounds of treatment, hit time and time again by a new or returning cancer diagnosis. Some were courageous, others weary. Humor helps.
So, what did we talk about over chocolate and chemical infusions?
Every conversation had a common theme. Unlike, normal social gatherings, no one spoke of what they do for a living, no one spoke of work, no one identified by their life accomplishments. On the edge of eternity, those social identity markers no longer hold weight or significance.
We talked about family. We talked about love.
As we mentioned our anniversary and reason for our little circuit of the room, people’s eyes would shift from initial pity to deep reminisce as we smiled and engaged in each conversation. One man, who has terminal cancer and is now counting his months, expressed his satisfaction with life, he has 17 grandchildren. Another spoke of her children who have moved to Australia and how much she misses them at this time. Another spoke of all the memories he is intentionally making with his wife and family, going places, doing things together, making life count. One woman, who could barely speak, leaned in close as we spoke of love and life. Her eyes spoke more than her whispered words. One we laughed with loudly over our childhood love of lollies.
Family was the music that serenaded us on Tuesday.
“Love is so supremely important”
I’ve been reading a great book, “Tuesdays With Morrie” by Mitch Albom, which captures conversations between a dying profession, Morrie, and his grad student from 20 years ago, Mitch. They discuss many of those ‘on the edge of eternity’ questions we all have: marriage, family, money, death, emotions.
Here’s what Morrie shares about family on one of their Tuesday conversations…
“The fact is, there is no foundation, no secure ground, upon which people may stand today if it isn’t the family. It’s become quite clear to me as I’ve been sick. If you don’t have the support and love and caring and concern you get from a family, you don’t have much at all. Love is so supremely important. As our great poet Auden said ‘Love each other or perish.’”
“This is part of what family is about, not just love, but letting others know there’s someone who is watching out for them. It’s what I missed so much when my mother died - what I call your ‘spiritual security’- knowing that your family will be there watching out for you. Nothing else can give you that. Not money. Not fame… Not work, he added.“
Morrie’s Tuesday chat reverberated with each chocolate inspired conversation we had in the cancer clinic on our Tuesday. Each person facing death found their ‘spiritual security’ in the tangible love of their families. Money. Fame. Work. None of that counted. Death is a great leveler. So is cancer, whether we survive it or not. And in that flattened state, stripped of everything else, one things stand out above the rest. Love is supremely important.
Life is Like a Box of Chocolates…
We can feel hard done by when special moments or occasions are robbed from us. Or we can find ways to steal them back. Turn them into something precious despite the circumstance. I’m so thankful for this memorable anniversary with Anton in a cancer clinic. We might have got the chocolate most try to avoid, but we’re learning to savour the bitter-sweet flavour and find delight in the candied it can yet bring to our lives.
Courage, Love and Legacy | Points to Ponder
Family and love can be a sensitive subject. Take time to acknowledge your feelings towards it as we ponder it’s value.
When you consider Morrie’s words “Love is so supremely important” ….
Do you agree with him or do other aspects of life (work, money, fame) take precedence in your life?
How does your life reflect a deep value for love and family?
Who comes to your mind when you think of ‘spiritual security’, someone always being there, watching out for you? How can you treasure and nurture this relationship?
How can you extend the gift of love to someone today?
I've read "Tuesday's with Morrie" some years ago I think it's time to read it again!
Just love your expression "Living on the edge of Eternity " makes me think that's how we all need to live each day so we have no regrets thank you Kylie!