way of life in our world – even before this leukemia journey began 19 months ago.
But, as this story began, here I was in the very early stages of again becoming the primary caregiver for my wife here at The Hotel and somehow completely queasy about the seemingly pedestrian sight of twin spots of blood on the floor.
One thing I can assure you is that I’ve spent a lifetime with various queasiness and relative avoidance regarding blood or the sight of bleeding and pain and suffering. I don’t need the UFC or old-school professional wrestling or any medical show on TV or a shoot-‘em-up movie to know what’s inside of all of us.
It’s red. It’s usually associated with pain and suffering. Usually some kind of violence is associated with the notion of “drawing first blood.”
We all have bled a little in our lives. It stings. It burns. It flows. And most of us heal up and keep going on with life.
The last time she had cancer, for some reason, I never really got queasy even though the first adjustment was so sudden and frightening that I’m not sure that I had time or energy to be squeamish. I went to “Hickman School” to learn how to safely administer the medicine and properly flush her lines. As her caregiver, I wore a lot of rubber gloves and masks last spring and summer and saw gallons of blood, medicines and fluids go in and out of her in every way imaginable.
There’s not one picture from the last time when she didn’t have two tubes sticking out of her chest.
But there’s some unique attitude adjustment and re-evaluation of comfort zones when you watch someone you love go through this cancer awfulness a second time. Even after nine months of watching this in 2014, there’s are still parts of it that have taken some getting used to this time.
And, let’s be honest: I don’t have much of a choice, right?
On the fourth day of this journey, I collected myself after a few minutes – Jenn was honestly taken aback – and moved forward and now we both look mostly comfortably at bags of blood all day, every day here at The Hotel.
Leukemia, by the way, is a blood cancer.
Jenn seems to think it would have more impact if the disease was simply called “blood cancer” – instead of this innocuous, mysterious word “leukemia.”
Sometime soon this angel from Germany who saved her life on June 26, 2014 will be sending another bag of blood on a jet plane from Europe to try to keep her alive one more time.
All of the details of the lymphocyte infusion are HERE.
We expect her to remain in the hospital for another …
