Day 9: Tuesday Afternoon

Tuesday, September 18, 2007 - It's 2:30 pm, and I am sitting here on Madeline's bed. The view from her room is spectacular with views from Boston Harbor to the Hancock Tower and a bit of the Charles River and sometimes it does bring solace and wonder even amidst the unbelievable pain and shock of the cancer diagnosis. It really is unbelievable. How could this happen? Madeline is wondering "why me?" Two weeks ago we are talking about shopping for fall clothes, and now we are shopping for a wig. The immediacy of the diagnosis required that we all take a nosedive into the cancer battle and yet we are at the same time in disbelief and shock.

Today has been a particularly difficult day but it seems to be quieting down nicely. Madeline had her haircut this morning since she will lose her hair over the next few weeks and having short hair makes it seem less painful (friends who have lost their hair suggested this and Mady gave the OK). She looks adorable. She then proceeded to almost pass out while getting ready to take a shower, necessitating some bed rest, more IV fluids, blood and unfortunately, missing an opportune chance to change her clothes. She is temporarily on insulin, a side effect of one of the steroids, so they have to check her blood and then remedy it, both with pricks, facilitating quite a bit of empathy for people with diabetes. She has to take a plethora of pills, have daily shots and chemo. She doesn't want to do it, but she knows this is the only door out. She doesn't want to have cancer, and everyone can empathize with that sentiment. The worst parts are the chemo, shots and changing the dressing for her port.

The IV nurse today reminded me of the principal in the story Matilda, as she ripped away the dressing to Mady's scream of "Can't you be more gentle?" Mady is devising some coping mechanisms, however, to the number of people who come in to meet, poke or prod her. Yesterday, when 2 doctors came in and sat bed-side waiting for her to wake up, she slept and the minute they left she sat up and said "Oh good, their gone, I can go to the bathroom." Today, she simply asked the few not required to come back another time. Everyone wants her to feel OK with what's going on. Everyone seems worried about her feelings of sadness surrounding her diagnosis. We are all overwhelmed at the long road in front of us but I bet for her, the long road seems endless right now. I guess I think she is doing just fine considering.

Please allow her to be sad. Don't make her tell you the positive parts of her stay here. They exist. On the whole, we feel coddled and well cared for, but allow her the time to adjust to a new paradigm within her world that includes cancer. As she said today "I knew of people who had cancer, and I never thought it would be me." love, Chris