GET READY TO LAUGH

    GET READY TO LAUGH

[BY SUSAN]

This long day at the hospital wasn’t particularly stressful, just long.  It began with an 8:30 a.m. scan up on Nuclear Medicine (aren’t we glad it is no longer nu-cu-lar?) where Peter ran into a fellow member of Schley Grange (Kim Greer) who works there.  While I waited for Peter down in the cafeteria I ran into our closest neighbor who was visiting a family member.  I know that Duke is only 12 miles away from here, but that’s still a small world—after all.

 
This morning’s scan (obviously something radioactive) was a renal one, another “just to be sure” test before the final radiation plan is enacted, and everything apparently looked fine.

Suddenly we were done and it was still the morning, and Peter said something I rarely hear come out of his mouth---“I need new clothes.”  After losing about 50 pounds his old wardrobe was saggy and baggy on him.  We had grabbed a few things for the Thanksgiving trip, and I think maybe he likes the way it feels to wear clothes that he isn’t swimming in.

So we drove to Northgate Mall, back to Macy’s, and a nice man named Fred assisted us in a typical Peter whirlwind shopping spree.  Peter has about 20 minutes and maybe 2-3 “try-ons” in him, and then he is done, simply DONE.  Fred shook his head and said, “Shopping takes me at least two hours.  I am pick-ee!”

Shirts were easy, since we’d figured out the right size last visit.  Pants required the try-ons, and after three pairs weren’t quite right I just grabbed something, figuring we could return it another day.  Turns out they fit perfectly, so Peter is now up to about 3 pairs of right-sized pants and maybe as many shirts.

As I said before, I lived for 3 years on the corner of Erwin and Trent, in Hanes House.  On my daily trek to the Div. School I often walked through the hospital (the old one), and also had an outdoor route that went right past the parking lot that Peter will use for his brief daily radiation visits (what a wonderful perk--to drive right up to the treatment place). 

 In those years at Duke, and all the times I’ve driven down Erwin Road since then, I never stopped to consider all that would be going on inside the hospital at any given time.  Births and deaths must take place daily, and simultaneously.  You only have to look around a waiting room or at passing faces to see some of the suffering and grief the place contains, and yet a closer look, just a bit of observation, will reveal great tenderness and listening ears will hear a level of gratitude that surpasses anything I’ve ever mustered.

This afternoon, down in radiation oncology (sub basement, white zone), I sat across from a mother and daughter (Jackie and Lyrica), both beautiful women.  Lyrica left to check her cell phone and I told Jackie how beautiful Lyrica was.  “She’s sweet, too,” was her reply.  “She’s 18 and still sweet.”  Jackie was there for a follow up after finishing her radiation for breast cancer back in September. 

She told Peter, when he asked, that she attributed her good health to God and to the good nutrition she’d provided for herself.  She showed Peter a tube of the cream she was sure had helped protect her skin from the burns…Udder Balm (we’re already fans).  Turns out Jackie was every bit as sweet as Lyrica.

While out for lunch I opened an email from my dear friend Ann Alexander.  Ann has been on her own journey down hospital halls with her husband, Lex, who is recovering from a stroke in he suffered in September.  Ann sent along the following talk from Dr. Marci Kramish Campbell, who died of gastro intestinal cancer just a few days ago.  Peter used to play music with Marci, and we know her husband Tom from our frequent visits to the Regulator Bookshop in Durham.  

Reading this made me wish I’d known Marci.  Our paths just crossed a couple of times in our long years of living in the same neck of the woods.  A UNC-CH professor since 1993, she worked in the field of cancer and nutrition, which I am becoming more and more interested in.  

Her speech addresses something that has bothered me since long before Peter’s diagnosis…and that is all of the battle and war language that we use with cancer.  I could not have stated my concerns as well as Marci did…and I am glad that she gave an insider’s perspective.  Jackie (above) echoed some of the same themes.  Yeah, you gotta have heart.

http://unclineberger.org/cancer-is-a-team-sport

And:  http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/newsobserver/obituary.aspx?n=marci-k-campbell&pid=155062667

Well, I didn’t intend this to be so long.  In many ways the day was uneventful, with long waits between the three scheduled visits, but short, almost non-existent waits for them.  Duke has been great that way so far.  I am learning, though, that long days are broken up in such a way that it is hard to get much work done…even though I tote my laptop around and try.

So, we got home with just enough light for Peter to go into the woods and split some logs, and I took off for a too-short run, but I’ve learned that trying to jog on our paths (with roots and rocks) in low light is just asking for an injury.  The walk back is mostly uphill, so that counts for something.

And then what else do we do to unwind?  I pick up a Sudoku puzzle and Peter watches music videos.  Then I go on Facebook, and call Peter over to come watch this video that daughter Jessie posted.  We’d seen a couple of these clips before, and I think the last one is best.  Can you guess which other one is our favorite?

Here, cheer up your own self after whatever kind of day you’ve had.  I bet that any of us who watch this will sleep better tonight!

http://www.buzzfeed.com/mentos/9-ridiculously-cute-videos-of-babies-laughing

Thanks again, ya’ll.  Keep the comments coming!  Remember that you won’t see them right away, and let us know if you have problems posting.