I’ve spent a lot of time sitting in an infusion clinic.
That’s the iconic environment where chemo therapy treatments as I first imagined them - take place. Turns out chemo can take the shape of a shot or a pill, but the majority of the time it involves some kind of IV drip (the “cocktail” of chemicals that is often characterized) which can take anywhere from 10 minutes to four hours – or more.
And in that time and in that place I’ve seen hope and despair, laughter and tears, life in the face of death, or life and the face of death. To me, the strength of the human spirit is beyond impressive – it’s humbling; it’s awe inspiring. And nowhere that I have experienced so far is that power on display more than at an infusion clinic.
Over the course of my duration of treatment I came to witness various phases of the process. Some folks were just getting started – learning about and living with the side effects of the medications. Others were in that unknown vortex of treatment - not knowing if they were closer to the beginning of their course of regimen or nearer to its completion, but pushing through nonetheless. And still others were seasoned veterans – resigned to their fate, practiced in the procedures, measured though confident in their prognosis.
Now I too stand on the other side of the void. I can understand all of their emotions better, as I have come to claim them all as my own – living through each progression. I was the rookie, then the sophomore, and finally the veteran, and now I am the graduate. And throughout my tenure at the infusion clinic I was guided and inspired by the human spirit that surrounded me.
