Just came back from four and a half hours at an oncologist's office where I was providing moral support and driving skills to a relative. Earlier in the week, I had called the local hospice to see if there was some sort of waiting list. So I thought I would take some space here to marvel at the kindness we have been shown. When you are given the diagnosis no one wants to hear and the prognosis that is worse than bleak, you feel emotionally battered. It's kinda like what I imagine getting hit with a two by four would be. First, there is the shock; then there is the pain so overwhelming that the outside world ceases to matter. It is at that moment that family members most need to have their wits about them as they deal with doctors, insurance companies, diagnostic tests, surgeons, you name it.
So what a relief to speak with the Hospice. "Don't wait too long. Most people wait too long. Contact us as soon as curative care stops. We take care of everything.: insurance companies, equipment, everything." All of this is said with genuine kindness to a person overwhelmed with the enormity of the thing. Those few words are a balm.
Then we go for chemotherapy where the staff is kind, upbeat, informative. Their very ordinariness is a reminder that life goes on, that whatever the outcome, there is a now to be lived.
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