For the past 33 months I have visited the 5th floor of the Duke Cancer Center faithfully to check my blood counts and discuss treatments for my leukemia. With that much interaction, you develop a relationship with the nurses and administrators. They have such a difficult job, caring for cancer patient’s day after day, smiling, staying upbeat and positive, despite knowing that the future for so many of us with cancer isn’t very rosy. Their job, in part, and which they do so well, is to keep hope alive in the hearts and minds of patients and their families. That is an awesome responsibility that dovetails with the doctors’ medical protocols which together makes up the “circle of care” for cancer patients at Duke, and I am sure in oncology clinics around the country.
Our nurse is a wonderful woman who has seen a lot of patients come and go. She is always quick with a willing smile, a positive attitude and her proud display of the color pink, from her eye glasses to her assorted pink footwear.
This one morning in the exam room, before the doctor arrived, we were talking about life, my kiddos, the chemotherapy regimens I am on and various and sundry other topics when I had to stop mid conversation and apologize for being so forgetful with so many of my words. She looked at me with compassion, smiled and shared, "Scott, it’s not the leukemia, because I find myself at a complete loss for words mid- sentence nearly every day too." She told me the story of her recent visit with her sister and she described being in Florida and how prevalent these “little green lizard like animals” were. And she looked at me as if to ask me the name of the critter she was describing, as if I knew what she was talking about. She continued for what seemed like 5 minutes to describe these animals, “….like little alligators or oversized salamanders…you know….What are they called?….” but she just couldn’t remember their exact name. We were both hand gesturing and motioning along the ground, but couldn’t for the life of us remember the name of the reptile she was describing.
We were laughing with each other, feeling stricken by the same neuro mental shortcoming.
When suddenly she blurted out ”IGUANAS”
We laughed harder.
Fact of the matter is I don’t even second guess myself or even try too hard anymore to come up with the missing word in so many of my sentences. I chalk it up to old age (almost 54 – haha), my wife says it’s more likely from concussions from my 21 years of tackle football and my palliative care specialist suggests that the chemo therapy medicine actually effects parts of the brain that we aren’t even aware of yet. So, there are lots of possible reasons, and I don’t really care which one is most culpable for my forgetfulness because I have chosen to spend whatever precious mental and physical energy I have on things that I can control and things that have more long term meaning and significance. Missing a word or two here or there is no longer concerning for me in the big picture.
After all, its senseless to sweat the rabbits when hunting elephants. So, if you are ever talking with me, and I just blurt out "iguanas" and then chuckle, bear with me. I may or may not be able to locate the right word, but those close to me will know what I mean, and that’s really all that matters.
Amen and Amen.