Life With Dignity

My husband, Charlie and I discussed our options and "planned" for the unknown during the two weeks that we had to wait for my first appointment at the Montgomery Cancer Center. The building is very close to I-85 and I had passed that building for years on my way to college at Auburn University at Montgomery. I feared that building. I still can't explain the fear. During college, my elderly neighbor faced her second round of lung cancer. She came to mean a great deal to me and it was my honor and privilege to help her during her fight. Sometimes, it was something as simple as a game of Scrabble on a rainy afternoon and other times, my mother and I would drive her to that terrible building (that was my term at the time for the cancer center). We watched her go through the chemotherapy and dreaded radiation and we stayed with her at her house during the night while she was so sick. I feared the building long before Anna's cancer introduced me to it. But in late November of 2003, my knees shook as I entered the doors full of dread and sick with hope and always, always begging God to not let it be cancer.

Not knowing what the future held, Charlie and I decided to bank his sick time and my mom volunteered to go with me to my first appointment. She knew my doctor through her work in an accounting firm. Dr. Barnes had seen her boss's dad through his battle of cancer and everyone agreed he should be my doctor. Mom and I walked into the cancer center, early of course because I couldn't stand to wait any more. The computer was down and we settled into the "first" waiting room for a long wait. Mom tried to read a magazine but could not concentrate. I just watched people come and go. Very quickly, you can discern patient from patient support. I watched one elderly lady float into the room. She was magnificent in her scarf, tied in a turban around her bald head. She had fantastic chandelier earrings. Her makeup was flawless right down to her red lipstick. She was dressed in a black pantsuit and had black, low-slung heels on. There was no doubt that she was very sick. Her port, the line used for chemotherapy, was a small lump above her breast but below her sharp collar bone. She met the receptionist, Mina, warmly and hugged her volunteer as if they were old friends. Note: I would learn later that the volunteers are often family members of other cancer patients, both survivors and those who no longer have to fight. Mina ran that front desk like a general faces battle. She juggled phone calls, directed patients to the lab, x-ray, the nurse practitioner, the doctor's waiting room, and the dreaded treatment department. Volunteers, Mina and other receptionists, the insurance team, lab techs, x-ray techs, nurses, doctors, the girls in scheduling, and even telephone nurses, they all joined together to form a formidable and tightly -knit team to fight for every patient they help. They truly came in short time to mean a great deal to me. They were and are still a great comfort to me.

Now, back to that first lady in her turban. After checking in, she and her daughter came to sit very close to us. I watched her for a long time and she seemed so comfortable and easy. She did not appear to fear anything. Her speech was animated and she laughed quite a bit. I did not want to stare but I must say that she intrigued me. While we waited, I watched other patients as well. Another woman came in with wrinkled, even dirty clothes on and ratty house shoes. Her hair was a tangled nest and she spoke sharply to the woman came with her. They both looked miserable. I leaned over and spoke quietly to Mom. I pointed out the beautiful but terribly sick woman and the other woman who was so miserable. I told her then that even if we got the worst news possible, for as long as possible, I wanted to keep my dignity, even if I lost my life. She teared up and looked at the two women and hugged me. She held my hand and promised to help me keep my dignity. We decided right then and there to face life (and death if absolutely necessary) with courage and dignity. While the beautiful lady went for an x-ray, we spoke to her daughter and learned she only had weeks to live. But she had come to love the people at the Montgomery Cancer Center and wanted to be uplifting in an often times discouraging world. She'll never know what she did for me that day. With courage and a renewed sense of hope, Mom and I were called to see the doctor.