Skip to main content

A clinic of support

Tiny voices, bright faces and joyful laughter filled the playroom by 8 a.m. The teens had their video games, the toddlers had their trains and for a moment all looked right in the world.

Except all of these kids were bald. All of these kids had lines and walked or crawled with IV poles attached. All of these kids have cancer. 

This busy playroom is at a Children's Hospital where week after week kids of all ages come to get chemotherapy treatment. 

The children play together - some too young to even understand the bond they share from their experience with this disease. And the parents - they smile, they laugh and support one another. 

Today, I was back in this clinic with Xavier awaiting his lumbar puncture. It has been four years since we have been there. Time has helped me forget. But, as much as I want to forget the devastating diagnosis and everything that followed, I fondly remembered the strength and kindness within those four walls of the oncology clinic. 

A woman approached me today, noticing I was a newbie to the clinic. She introduced herself and wanted to know how I was doing. Just three short months ago, her daughter was diagnosed with ALL. But now, she was offering me support as she settled into the "routine" of  having a child undergoing cancer treatment. 

After our conversation (explaining we went through treatment and attend the after care clinic now) I looked around the room and saw so many strangers being there for each other. Through tragedy comes togetherness and through togetherness comes strength. 

Clinic was good for that. Sometimes I miss that weekly support group. Now I live day after day with a child who had cancer, but no required weekly meet-and-greet with others who share the same fears and concerns. 

I would never want to go back to that clinic. But in hindsight, it is comforting to see the good that came out of that experience. I likely didn't see it back then, but my refresher there today now as an outsider, has given me a fresh perspective.

I was reminded again how incredibly grateful I am to be where we are today. Never forget where you have come from.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The aftermath is MESSY

We are on the road to recovery!  Physically, Xavier is improving daily with his regular physio and pure determination only a child possesses. He is learning to walk again and use his left side, all while building back the muscle he lost.  He has at least another month of treatment left, but we are so fortunate we can manage it at home and at a dose that causes fewer side effects than he faced last month.  Xavier is determined and I admire that in children. The lack of self-pity in kids we have seen  on his cancer ward are so inspiring. Instead they use that energy to heal, and set goals for recovery.   Still there are residual symptoms that are concerning. He is choking on liquids more frequently, suffering from reflux and is unable to move his toes on his left foot. Seems minor but as he tries to walk now his toes curl under his foot and trip him. Who knew how important straightening your toes are!  But the lingering side effect of treatment ...
2 comments
Read more
Ever since I learned how to write, I have been writing. I am not a professional, nor do I pretend to be. I am not an English major or a published author. I wrote the news for years (almost 10 if you count my years at my college newspaper). But the benefit of writing for me is not for money; it's for pleasure. Writing makes me feel good. Since I was 10 years old I kept a diary. I wrote down my thoughts, my daily activities and everything in between. It was my stress relief - how I figured shit out. I can trace every low point in my life to a time when I stopped writing for pleasure. Pen to a paper, fingers to a keyboard, I have to write. My sanity depends on it. So, here I go. I intend on writing about my life, about stories I have swirling around in my head. And maybe share some excerpts from my diaries as a child. If no one reads this, that's fine. It's not for anyone else but me. But if they do, that's ok too. If I can bring a tear, a laugh or a smile to someone e...
2 comments
Read more

I haven't stopped loving you

I haven’t stopped loving you A letter to my son in heaven on the third anniversary of his death Photo by Mark Garrett/Creative Works Photography Dear Xavier,  I have noticed you don’t visit me as often anymore and I miss your surprise appearances in my dreams. Your sweet little voice I used to hear in my head is now just a whisper I can only hear when I really try to listen.  But, I haven’t stopped loving you.  Days go by and I don’t long for you like I used to. I set the table for three without a second thought. Your presence at the kitchen table feels like a lifetime ago - almost hard to believe it was even real.  But, I haven’t stopped loving you.   We put away some more of your things and rearranged the room we had made for you. Mackenzie now plays there beside a cabinet full of all of your Star Wars characters. There are fewer pictures of just you around the house and a few more of us as a family.  But, I haven’t stop...
1 comment
Read more