My 100 Day Project
How do you survive getting cancer at 22? My whole life changed in an instant and all my plans were put on pause for the unforeseeable future without my consent. Everyone deals with suffering differently and some appear to handle it more beautifully than others. But suffering is like a one way street. Once you're in it, you're committed and there is no way but straight ahead. I read an article by another young woman who battled cancer at 22 and she told of how people encouraged her to pick a 100 day project-- something to do every day to get her through her illness. Her mom watercolored. Her sister started knitting. She wrote. The point is humanity (and this girl) discovered sometimes the best way to survive something hard is to take your mind off of it.
I was thinking about what my 100 day project could be because I have roughly 100 days until I finish chemo treatments. When you are trying to figure out where you are going it often helps to look at where you've been, so I thought through things I have done over the past 7 weeks that have brought me joy when I am hurting most. Oddly enough, it isn't any task, but more of a phrase: "How are you?" Let me give a few examples.
Yesterday when I went to get my labs drawn, I showed up at 4:15pm and the waiting room was still full of a handful of people ranging from young to old. You could tell the staff was ready to finish up and get home to their families. The nurse called me back, sat me down, and in a robotic manner asked me how I was doing. I smiled and said, "I'm doing good! How are you?" And I waited for the answer. Her face lit up and she said, "You know what? I'm good too! You are actually the first person who has asked me that all day today. So thank you. Really." It was a sweet and enlightening exchange. Finding out how she was doing was a gift to me because it took my mind off of the fact that she was puncturing my arm for the thousandth time and draining my body of its blood. It took my mind off of me. Sadly, I think this is a rare thing-- sick people who are thinking about things past themselves. I'm not saying I'm perfect at it (just ask my family), but I think I'm on to something.
Here's another example from last week when I was re-admitted to the hospital due to a fever. Ugh. I was put on a different floor than I normally am on. I won't lie... I had a really bad attitude about it. I was upset that I had to be back in the hospital after already being there for a week. The room I was in was smaller, older, and generally less pleasant. When I pulled up the side of the bed to adjust the back part I noticed dried throw up on the frame. The nurse felt terrible and I was in no mood to be nice or make her feel better. I cried angry tears when they finally stopped running tests on me because I didn't want to be there and I hadn't gotten my way on my normal floor where I felt more comfortable. Notice all I was thinking about was myself. When you have cancer you kind of get a free pass to be selfish, but it only really makes you more miserable. When your circumstances suck and they are all you are focused on, well, you start to suck. Life sucks. Everything sucks. Anyways, I finally fell asleep after having my blood drawn, IV put in, vitals taken, yada yada yada... and then they wake me up to get my chest x-ray done. It is 3am at this point and they are telling me I have to not only wake up, but crawl out of my cozy cocoon of 9 blankets (yes I was that cold). UGH. Life still sucks and I'm mad at the world. The man standing by my wheelchair greeted me with a big smile. He whispered through a thick accent, "I know these halls can get so cold" then proceeded to wrap me in a white sheet like a toga. My heart softened a little because that was kind. Even though I felt feverish and ache, I wanted to return the favor so I asked how his night was going. I soon discovered that he had traveled from Nigeria to America to give his brother a life-saving bone marrow transplant. Having survived leukemia, his brother is now well and living up north. I learned that he stayed in Nashville because the weather is similar to Africa (hot) and he liked the people. He asked me my story and I proceeded to explain how I was diagnosed not even two months ago. I told of how God provided a speedy diagnosis and treatment and how I was still able to graduate college. The conversation ended by us agreeing that God is good even when life feels dark and hopeless. After winding me through the depths of Vanderbilt to my x-ray, He delivered me back to my room and said, "God will go before you and take care of you."As I climbed back under my pile of covers, my 11th floor room suddenly didn't feel so small and dirty anymore. In fact, I caught myself thanking God for putting me right where He had because it gave me the opportunity to learn about that man's story. My attitude changed because I stopped being focused on myself and got caught up in his story and how his life was changed dramatically by illness too.
Another example is the cleaning lady on the 10th floor. She calls me Pocahontas and smiles with a joy that few possess. When she first walked into my room I asked her how she was doing. She replied, "I'm good baby, you know why? Because I clean from the heart! That's how my mama taught me and it is the best way to live!"
I could go on and on -- stories about other patients, nurses, doctors, and the many others who I have come in contact with over the past few months. It truly is sweet to see someone's face light up when I take interest in them ... me ... someone who is trapped in the kingdom of the sick and expected to be selfish, bitter and empty. Honestly, it is kind of exciting to defy the expected and shock the people taking care of me. They are already caught off guard that I am young, sick, bald and still smiling -- why not add "interested in them" to the list.
I dare suggest that this mindset applies to and can radically change everyone's bad days, not just those of us with cancerous bad days.
Part of me thinks this illness is completely altering the course of my life. Another part of me wonders if God allowed me to get sick simply to use me to remind a lot of hard working, selfless people in the medical field that their work is needed...that they matter. Whether it is the doctor who oversees my treatment, the nurse who administers my chemo, the care partner who checks my vitals, or the person who cleans my room, each person plays a part. Each one of them is needed. Yes, I'm 22 and unfortunately fighting a serious cancer for whatever reason or purpose. At the same time, the world is still going on and other have lives too. Each person taking care of me also is living a story full of good and bad. I'm not trying to be overly dramatic, but I don't think God created life to be wasted ... even if it is life being lived in a hospital bed fighting for survival. And I'm going to lose my mind if I try to paint or knit to get through this. So my 100 day project is simple: I'll ask each person I meet throughout this bizarre process how they are doing and I'll wait for the answer. Who knows what I'll find out...
I was thinking about what my 100 day project could be because I have roughly 100 days until I finish chemo treatments. When you are trying to figure out where you are going it often helps to look at where you've been, so I thought through things I have done over the past 7 weeks that have brought me joy when I am hurting most. Oddly enough, it isn't any task, but more of a phrase: "How are you?" Let me give a few examples.
Yesterday when I went to get my labs drawn, I showed up at 4:15pm and the waiting room was still full of a handful of people ranging from young to old. You could tell the staff was ready to finish up and get home to their families. The nurse called me back, sat me down, and in a robotic manner asked me how I was doing. I smiled and said, "I'm doing good! How are you?" And I waited for the answer. Her face lit up and she said, "You know what? I'm good too! You are actually the first person who has asked me that all day today. So thank you. Really." It was a sweet and enlightening exchange. Finding out how she was doing was a gift to me because it took my mind off of the fact that she was puncturing my arm for the thousandth time and draining my body of its blood. It took my mind off of me. Sadly, I think this is a rare thing-- sick people who are thinking about things past themselves. I'm not saying I'm perfect at it (just ask my family), but I think I'm on to something.
Here's another example from last week when I was re-admitted to the hospital due to a fever. Ugh. I was put on a different floor than I normally am on. I won't lie... I had a really bad attitude about it. I was upset that I had to be back in the hospital after already being there for a week. The room I was in was smaller, older, and generally less pleasant. When I pulled up the side of the bed to adjust the back part I noticed dried throw up on the frame. The nurse felt terrible and I was in no mood to be nice or make her feel better. I cried angry tears when they finally stopped running tests on me because I didn't want to be there and I hadn't gotten my way on my normal floor where I felt more comfortable. Notice all I was thinking about was myself. When you have cancer you kind of get a free pass to be selfish, but it only really makes you more miserable. When your circumstances suck and they are all you are focused on, well, you start to suck. Life sucks. Everything sucks. Anyways, I finally fell asleep after having my blood drawn, IV put in, vitals taken, yada yada yada... and then they wake me up to get my chest x-ray done. It is 3am at this point and they are telling me I have to not only wake up, but crawl out of my cozy cocoon of 9 blankets (yes I was that cold). UGH. Life still sucks and I'm mad at the world. The man standing by my wheelchair greeted me with a big smile. He whispered through a thick accent, "I know these halls can get so cold" then proceeded to wrap me in a white sheet like a toga. My heart softened a little because that was kind. Even though I felt feverish and ache, I wanted to return the favor so I asked how his night was going. I soon discovered that he had traveled from Nigeria to America to give his brother a life-saving bone marrow transplant. Having survived leukemia, his brother is now well and living up north. I learned that he stayed in Nashville because the weather is similar to Africa (hot) and he liked the people. He asked me my story and I proceeded to explain how I was diagnosed not even two months ago. I told of how God provided a speedy diagnosis and treatment and how I was still able to graduate college. The conversation ended by us agreeing that God is good even when life feels dark and hopeless. After winding me through the depths of Vanderbilt to my x-ray, He delivered me back to my room and said, "God will go before you and take care of you."As I climbed back under my pile of covers, my 11th floor room suddenly didn't feel so small and dirty anymore. In fact, I caught myself thanking God for putting me right where He had because it gave me the opportunity to learn about that man's story. My attitude changed because I stopped being focused on myself and got caught up in his story and how his life was changed dramatically by illness too.
Another example is the cleaning lady on the 10th floor. She calls me Pocahontas and smiles with a joy that few possess. When she first walked into my room I asked her how she was doing. She replied, "I'm good baby, you know why? Because I clean from the heart! That's how my mama taught me and it is the best way to live!"
I could go on and on -- stories about other patients, nurses, doctors, and the many others who I have come in contact with over the past few months. It truly is sweet to see someone's face light up when I take interest in them ... me ... someone who is trapped in the kingdom of the sick and expected to be selfish, bitter and empty. Honestly, it is kind of exciting to defy the expected and shock the people taking care of me. They are already caught off guard that I am young, sick, bald and still smiling -- why not add "interested in them" to the list.
I dare suggest that this mindset applies to and can radically change everyone's bad days, not just those of us with cancerous bad days.
Part of me thinks this illness is completely altering the course of my life. Another part of me wonders if God allowed me to get sick simply to use me to remind a lot of hard working, selfless people in the medical field that their work is needed...that they matter. Whether it is the doctor who oversees my treatment, the nurse who administers my chemo, the care partner who checks my vitals, or the person who cleans my room, each person plays a part. Each one of them is needed. Yes, I'm 22 and unfortunately fighting a serious cancer for whatever reason or purpose. At the same time, the world is still going on and other have lives too. Each person taking care of me also is living a story full of good and bad. I'm not trying to be overly dramatic, but I don't think God created life to be wasted ... even if it is life being lived in a hospital bed fighting for survival. And I'm going to lose my mind if I try to paint or knit to get through this. So my 100 day project is simple: I'll ask each person I meet throughout this bizarre process how they are doing and I'll wait for the answer. Who knows what I'll find out...
