“Can I do this?” I ask myself. Then making the decision even tougher, I chose the most miserable winter day I could find. It was -20 C and the snowfall at the sides of the roads was in windrows nearly four feet tall. But, I did it! I drove down to the Cancer Clinic, walked in and announced that I was ready to help. It was like walking into Grandma’s house. Not quite like home, yet having memories of love and caring.
There were a few old familiar faces and they smiled at me and made me feel welcome and mostly I remembered where everything was.
I did some photocopying and the machine did not blow up, I coloured in some charts that needed attention and I even got courageous enough to go into the chemo area and ask if anyone wanted a coffee. (How many times I had sat there with Harry as he waited for the chemo to do its thing … knowing that he would feel rotten for a few days but praying it would work. Chemo is not fun.)
That morning as I was leaving I spotted a lady sitting at one table alone. She was about my age and looked a bit lonely, so I stood and chatted a while.
She shared she was going to have chemo and was worried about vomiting. I told her that Harry had had lots of chemo and hadn’t thrown up once.
“How many years did he have after he found out he had cancer,” she asked.
“Five” I replied.
“I’d be happy with that,” she said.
It is so much easier to understand someone when you have walked the same road … even as a companion.
I hope she could see in my eyes my understanding and my caring. I gave her a small pat on the shoulder and wished her “God bless.”
It is a privilege to reach out and touch an individual with compassion. I hope I was a bit of light in a dark day. For me, I found I could walk down a path full of sad memories and still help someone. Those earlier years in the Cancer Clinic were a training experience that God must have felt I needed … for today He gave me the strength to reach out to help someone who needed a word of hope.
