Love is the cure

 iphone shot by Dominic

It seems as if we’re treating this cancer in a very old school Christian way. When I was very young, I used to think if I jumped through all the right hoops, was a good girl, and didn’t make too many mistakes, that God would give me the life I wanted. That did not work out so well with me, and I have long since taken a different tack.

Nevertheless, here we are, in a vaguely reminiscent way. I glance down at my notebook at my side. I am writing down everything. Every piece of information goes in the notes. Every name, every drug, every stat, every question. I want the insurance company to know we’ve done everything possible to make all their dimes worth while. Dom is compliant. He does his bit. He takes the pills, the liquids, the directions. He walks with determination, brushes his teeth, showers every day, eats all his meals and hydrates. We search out complementary diets. We are fighting the cancer from every angle. We are in it to win it.

I’ve just attended my first family support meeting. I thought maybe someone would ask the question I did not even know that I had. I would love to tell you all about it, boy would I. But it’s like fight club. First rule and all. One woman gave me permission to talk about her husband’s barking spiders outside of the group. But we don’t actually need to talk about that.

I am itching to talk about fight club though.

What I can tell you, is that when I pass a patient in the hallway, pushing their tree of life, and they smell like an ash tray, it gives me pause. How does one take their act on the road and step out for a ciggy? There’s no place to smoke anywhere near the building. Let alone that you’re not supposed to even leave the Oncology Ward to protect the fragile immune system. It is not my intention to judge the patient, but it just boggles my mind. And I dig my heels in that the the model patient just has to be cured. If only one could be cured on merit alone.

I can also tell you that the term God complex was brought up in context of doctors thinking they are god. And I realize I may have the complex by making our Doctor god. It’s not that ultimately I think he alone has the supernatural power to cure cancer, but subconsciously, that old good girl in me thinks if we impress him with really good behavior, we’ll get to the promised land. The doctor doesn’t notice this. He just listens to Dom’s breathing and feels his feet for edema and is on his way.

As I ponder this reckoning with cultural spirituality, what I really want to say is this: I think what is absolutely healing is all the love and support we are receiving. I am positive that the daily posts from people, the love, the prayers, I really believe it is all part of the cure. You are all part of the process of wellness for our Dominic. And we are both so grateful. Love is the cure.