As my blog overview proclaims (warns?), I seek to capture and share my odd-servations as I ramble along my journey. One of the things that I notice during my weekly 3 to 5 hour visits to the infusion clinic, is how my fellow IV-ers make use of their “shifts."
Watch TV - Each treatment cubicle is equipped with a TV and hand controller with speaker - so as not to disturb the other patients. The channel choices are somewhat limited and I get plenty of screen time at home during the week (more work-related than anything), so this option is generally not my first choice (or second or third or fourth). But clearly serves a valuable need for many others.
Nap - I often find myself dozing off while listening to tunes and catching up on some much needed/much appreciated zzzzzs in the calm of the environment. The emotion of the medical inevitability eventually gives way to acceptance - once the reality of the diagnosis settles in (sooner if you let if happen; and avoid fighting the circumstance). I have been fortunate to dodge the often overwhelimng ravages of the process - where for others this could be what little comforting sleep they may get in a typical day of theirs.
Knitting - I myself am knot a knitter, but I have witnessed the power of productivity that grows within this ironically healthfully destructive scenario. "Knitting" is a metaphor for the ways that some folks have found to make good use of the time that they are confined to the chemo clinic. Here too, the choice to be useful is clearly in the mind (or more so in the hands) of the patient; and not for everyone. But it is heartening to see how crafts can counteract chemo.
Enjoy content on their personal devices - One 27-year-old patient in particular (so young to be strapped with such a burden) enjoys a weekly dose of something funny (along with his weekly dose of something beneficially toxic), as I overhear his frequent bursts of chuckles and guffaws. I have no idea what he is watching, but his audible and enjoyable reactions are a twinkle of humanity in the friendly but somewhat sterile clinical environment.
And of course there is Blog writing - well at least one of us is. If I allow myself to wander/wonder, there tends to be something inspirational in the air. Curiously, small moments act like seeds that grow into larger ideas. Innocent interactions can nurture each other. And over time, the amalgamation of a series of seemingly unconnected or unrelated occurrences can: find their commonality, tell their story, and grow up to be a full-fledged blog post. in reality it's not quite as climactic of a literary crescendo as the previous sentence may have represented, but somehow if you collect and remember enough happenstances, they can discover a meaning. Maybe for me at least, the distraction (and directed destruction) of chemotherapy combats Multiple Myeloma and a touch of writer's block.
