The Anxieties I Face Before Chemo Treatments for CLL

Before receiving a chemotherapy infusion for CLL, Chester took note of how even just a smile can mean much more between patients with cancer.

Having chemotherapy for my chronic lymphocytic leukemia is like walking on a pond of ice. I feel like I’m always wondering if and when it’s going to crack. Every time I check in with the receptionist and the nurse calls my name, I wonder, will my blood pressure be in a good range? I’ve learned to keep both legs on the ground and not to cross them. Will my temperature be normal? What will my blood chemistry reveal today? I’ve learned to wear a short-sleeved shirt even though the room is cold. Have I lost more weight? I’ve learned to check my weight at home before going to the cancer center, so I can compare it with the weight on their scale. Usually, their scale is right on target with mine. All these concerns are lingering in my head, like the cloud over Charlie Brown.

Having some anxiety is normal. It’s part of the package. I live with it. I deal with it.

As I sit in the waiting room, I notice that everyone looks different. Some people look strong and energetic, appearing as if nothing is wrong. Others look like ghosts, an image of themselves so fragile, as if one push will break them in half like a glass bowl. That’s the ironic thing about cancer. One can look normal to others and no one else knows the pain that’s going on inside. Having support is the only way to get through this ordeal. And sometimes that support can come from a stranger. There is an uncanny bond that all of us experience in the waiting room. When we smile at each other, we’re saying more than a friendly hello. We’re saying, “I see you. I know what you’re going through. We’re in this together. We’re all afraid, anxious and unsettled, but we soldier on, as if we’re on the battlefield.”

Sometimes the battlefield presents surprises. Yesterday, the doorbell rang and I wondered who it could be. It was a delivery man with a beautiful arrangement of roses, carnations, mums, ferns and baby’s breath! It was such a shock! But it was a good shock! It was so elegantly wrapped with black and gold tissue paper surrounding the flowers. I couldn’t wait to look at the card to see who had sent them. “Wow!” I said to myself. The card had all the names of the family members listed. I was so touched!

I immediately sent a text and photo to thank them. Surprises are great because they catch me off guard. They tell me that others are thinking of me. It really brightened my evening and made me feel loved and cherished. “That’s what friends are for” as the song goes.

Oh, I can hear Dionne Warwick singing that song over and over again in my head.It never fails to move me when I hear it. And now it touches me in a profound way.

I guess men don’t receive flowers very often. So, when we do, it really conveys a deep message of support and love. Maybe I just have a soft spot for flowers in my life. To me, they say much more than “I care.” For me, they say the resources of the ground have been used to bring about beauty. They say the earth is productive and brings forth grace and charm. They say each petal is a gift of elegance from a power far greater than myself.They say we are one with them. We are all one with the natural environment. Just as the flower petals drop, so do we drop our petals of tears, loss and pain. We too, reach the core of our being. We find the strength to continue to hold on.

A flower allows us to see our connection between the spiritual and the sacred. It increases our spiritual awareness so that it becomes deep and transformative. You may have experienced this when you smell a peony or Asiatic lily. For me, it seems as if the fragrance could transport me into another spiritual realm. It takes me out of myself, just like looking up at the stars in the sky on a clear night!

So where do I stand today, from a psychological, physical and spiritual point of view?I’m happy to report that my platelet count went up. Not a lot. It went from 30 to 37, but at least it gives me hope. My oncologist has decided to stop the infusions and asked me to return in two weeks.

She said sometimes it takes a while before the effect of the infusion can be seen. So, she wants to have more blood work done in two weeks. If it’s not good at that point, my oncologist said she has a plan B, which we briefly reviewed.

The infusion went much better this time, except my arm was ice cold. It was the arm where the chemo was being infused. The nurse put a warm blanket on my arm to keep it from freezing and it helped a lot. Emotionally, I am much better. I feel calmer, knowing that my body has taken a baby step and that maybe it will take more baby steps in the future. My spirits are good because I have faith that things will get better. I have faith in my oncologist, who is helping me. I have faith in the nurses, who take care of me. I have faith in my friends, who encourage me by sending cards, flowers and making meals. Thanks to another friend for making a meal for me this evening. I have faith in Spirit…whatever you choose to call it… the Divine Source. Faith, hope and love are all I need to help me get through this journey.

This post was written and submitted by Chester Freeman. The article reflects the views of Freeman and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.

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