Four years ago we were boarding a flight to New Zealand. Usually there’s a lot of prep that goes into planning a journey. From booking flights to packing, or learning a new language, there’s a lot of work, and that trip was no exception. Well, maybe a little easier than normal, Kiwi’s do speak English after all!
Language lessons typically start with vocabulary. An apple, a man, a dog, etc.; the curve goes up from there. I’ve done anything from learn by tape, to full university courses in a dozen or so different languages. I never expected that I’d be a travel companion through the cancer “journey” or have to learn the language of cancer.
Today, I’ve got some of the basics handled. For example, if you mentioned that someone had low hemoglobin I’d be worried about how tired they might be feeling, or if they’re low enough to need a blood transfusion. Or, if you told me someone had a low ANC, I’d know you were talking about their neutrophils, and their ability to fight infection. Basically how well they’ll cope with their surroundings and day-to-day germs that we all take for granted–like being able to go to the movie theatre, or touch a door knob, or get a paper cut.
Who would have though that we’d start speaking in prescriptions and chemo names and even shorten their names to make life easier? Ondansetron, Met, Dex, Vincristine, Docetaxel, Gemcitabine…the curve has been steep these past few months. I don’t know how my brother and his wife have become fluent so quickly, nor would I have ever wished they’d need such a skill. How lucky we all are that they are smart, caring, extraordinary parents. How lucky we all are that they’ve hurled through these terms for almost 5 months and we can use their acquired knowledge to get through medications and chemo here.
Despite so much chaos and craziness going on from appointment /medication schedules, I’ve seen an oasis of calm. About a month ago I had the pleasure of flying to Vancouver to look after Wyatt for the day while Ben was receiving treatment. Ronald McDonald House is outstanding! The most worrisome part of the trip was the germiness of the flight.
Air plane germs freak me out when everyone in my life is healthy!!! Visiting someone who could be neutropenic made flying all the more terrifying. People depend on me for care; getting the common cold is not an option. Through conscious effort I didn’t touch anything on the flight except for the seat belt buckle. Ew Gross! (Thank-you makers of Purell hand sanitizer for making the flight bearable.)
I am so grateful for RMH. What an amazing place! Families worrying about their little ones should not have to face added stress and worry of accommodation in other cities, or even worse the torment of being separated from other family members while another is treated for illness. RMH eliminates that worry. The house really is gorgeous. The most lovely volunteers make the house exceptionally welcoming and warm.
I’ve updated “Get Involved” to include Ronald McDonald House BC/Yukon. My family has directly benefitted from their generosity. Beyond RMH, I’ve included Canadian Blood Services. There is a shortage of blood across Canada (at the time of writing, there was less than 2 days supply of O-…that’s scary folks!). Please, please donate blood if you’re able! You’ll be saving someone’s life! That my friends is a true mark of the incredible kindness of friends and strangers.
♥
~j
ps: I promise this won’t be come about Cancer. It’s just a different type of travel we’re on now.
Both of us were rather excited to have a layover in Switzerland, rather than Frankfurt again as we have on 
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