This Ceiling is Getting Lower All the Time ...

I feel like I am emerging from my chemo week, what a difference a day can make. Last evening I was still nauseated and actually had to take something again in the middle of the night. Then, this morning, I felt pretty good, all things considering and it has been a good day.

The title of today's post reflects what I have been thinking and reading about today and it all came together for me when Kenny was helping me put away my Costco purchases (yes, I did make it there! :). He followed me downstairs and as he hit his head on the roof of the lower part of the basement that is under the family room he said "This ceiling is getting lower all the time!". That's one way of looking at things I guess but it made me realize that there is often more than one way of looking at a situation, how we are looking at it may just be our own perception of it and can impact how we experience it.

I first started thinking about this after I was contacted by another lady in the city who has just received a breast cancer diagnosis and will be having surgery next week. She is single and has a needle phobia and she is very afraid at the moment. My heart goes out to her. At this point in time for her, it seems to her that her life is over. I hope to be able to help influence her to change her perception and see things differently as things progress on her own breast cancer journey.

I have been reading a book by a hospital chaplain who has had her own experience with breast cancer. The book is called "It's Not About the Hair: and Other Certainties of Life & Cancer" by Debra Jarvis.

In one chapter Debra is talking of an elderly gentleman who is having chemotherapy for esophageal cancer. She describes her talk with him here -

"I'm not afraid to die now," he said. "But I hope this chemo works. There's still some livin' I want to do."

His hope for healing was not born out of fear of death, but love of life. This is a very good thing. When people love life more than they fear death, they come to treatment with open hands, open hearts, open eyes. When people fear death more than they love life, they come clinging and clutching and grasping. Holding the breath. Furrowing the brow...

Before I left I squeezed his hand and said, "You are your own medicine..." '

Another excerpt from the book, again pertaining to how we perceive things -

'Words are powerful ...

"Hi, I'm here for my poison." I had a patient who used to say that every time he came in for his chemo. Then he'd paste a big bitter smile on his face. He was angry and depressed and his docs were having a hard time getting his side effects under control.

One day his daughter and two-year-old granddaughter came in with him. There was a lot of jostling around and rearranging of chairs, so he didn't make his usual dramatic announcement about getting his poison.

His granddaughter looked like she belonged in a Ralph Lauren ad. She had a nest of shiny dark curls surrounding her face, red cherubic lips and stunning dark blue eyes. She was a gorgeous child ...

...She cuddled up next to him with her bottle and her blanket and he put his arm around her. His nurse started his chemo and left.

"Papa's good juice," she said pointing to his IV line. Well, it's true that Doxil is red and really does look like juice.

He looked at her and laughed. "Yes, that's Papa's juice. Papa's good juice" ...

After that day, I never again heard him call his chemo "poison." And you can say what you want about how they finally found the right anti-nausea drugs for him or adjusted his chemo, but he never again complained of nausea.'

So Kenny, is the ceiling really getting lower? ;)

Take care, everyone