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Facing Cancer
Cancer affects millions of lives and can turn a person’s world upside down in the blink of an eye. This article was written one day as Tim Maceyko sat with his then-teenage daughter during one of her treatments. She was facing a battle with lymphoma and it opened her father’s eyes to struggles that he had not considered.
Sitting in the cancer treatment center with my teenage daughter is not a place that we expected to be. Yet here we are. What had started as a small lump in a lymph node has turned into something much bigger. Our fears were actually confirmed the day after Christmas and the journey has been quite a roller-coaster over the last few months. Today, we are at the Zangmeister Cancer Center, preparing for her third round of chemo.
Allie sits in her chair and receives a shot in her stomach from a really long needle. She protests loudly because she’s had it before and it’s certainly not something that she looks forward to. However, it helps with post-chemo nausea and it allows her to get through the days ahead with more limited side effects. The nurse sprays something onto Allie’s stomach to numb the area. The shot goes smoothly with little pain this time. That’s a relief.
The People
Across from us sits an African-American lady who is receiving her own treatment. I’m guessing that she is in her forties, but I’ve never been good with guessing ages. She is upbeat and chats freely with the nurses and others who are walking around. I take it that she has been here many times and has become accustomed to her routine because she seems at home in this environment. However, I also notice that she is alone. I’m not sure why, but that bothers me.
To my right, I see an older gentleman and his wife. He is around six feet tall, wearing glasses, is balding, and he has a white beard. His suspenders are kind of cute, but he doesn’t seem as friendly as the other lady across from us. He just sits and stares off into the distance. I wonder if that’s how I’d feel in his place. The thing I notice about him the most though is the baseball hat he is wearing with “Marines” prominently displayed across the front of it. I need to thank him for his service. But I don’t. He seems like he doesn’t want to be bothered.
There are several other people scattered around the open area. Some of them are receiving their treatments and some of them are patiently waiting for theirs to begin. What I realize is that cancer doesn’t care about your age. It doesn’t care about your ethnic background or your lifestyle; could care less that you served your country; doesn’t care whether you are alone or with someone; it just doesn’t care about you. It’s that simple. Cancer is a cold, heartless disease and I despise the entire concept. To put it bluntly, cancer sucks.
The Positives
At least the staff here is pleasant. They interact with the patients on a personal level, providing plenty of smiles and they give off a positive vibe. That’s needed, considering what the patients are going through. Nurses that are good at their job are amazing to me. Their help goes far beyond the medicine they are administering. These nurses are providing a sense of hope and comfort during a fearful time.
There are huge glass windows on the outside of the room that looks out over a wooded area. Last time here, Allie sat and watched the wild turkeys. I guess the place is as comfortable as a place like this can be. Despite that fact, we all would much rather be just about any place other than here.
I notice that a lot of the ceiling panels are painted with artwork. Each one has been done by a person that has come through the center before us. There are motivational panels, several of which are painted with inspiring artwork. There are some really impressive designs scattered around the room. The ceiling panel closest to us says, “You never know how strong you are until being strong is your only choice.” As I watch my daughter prepare to get yet another round of chemo, I realize how profound that saying really is. She is certainly strong, but the reality is she has no choice. Sometimes “being strong is your only choice.” I need to remember that saying. It’s a good one.
In Closing
It will be several more hours before we are done, so we all settle in. This is our new home-away-from-home. I get my laptop out and begin to type. I don’t write anything that’s going to win a Pulitzer, but I do document what I see around me. Thus, I give you #Tims2Cents and my #CancerSucks rambling for the day.
2021 Update
My daughter is now in her twenties, married, and had her first baby this past year. And I am happy to report that she is currently cancer-free.
I hope that by sharing this experience someone may hear what they need to hear today. We all face those difficult moments in our lives, but we must keep the faith. It is not always easy to do and it does require a special kind of faith. I’m talking about a faith that lies far beyond the pain that you are feeling at this moment. It lies beyond the adversity you are experiencing right now. You just need to hold onto the hope that tomorrow will be a new day, a better day. And know that, as the sign in the cancer center said, sometimes being strong really is your only choice.
If you found this article interesting then read more about Tim Maceyko’s journey with adversity in his book, When the Cardinal Calls. You can now find all of his books on Amazon. And be sure to join the Faith Beyond family by subscribing here to receive access to a free e-book copy of Seth’s Snuggle Time Game.
