I'm sitting in my usual recliner here in the Cancer Center, with the IV stand above me, steadily dripping. First one bag of medicine, then another. The nurse comes in and changes them; some to fight the side effects like nausea and bone pain, others to lower my immune system, and then the big guns to kill the cancer. Drop by steady drop.
It takes long hours, weary hours, and I have to show up whether I want to or not, to lie patiently and put up with the waves of "funny feelings" some of the meds cause (my mouth gets numb, I feel agitated or sleepy or restless by turns), and to give myself over to being healed. By the time my patient husband comes to drive me home, I'm tottery with exhaustion, and for the next few days I'll be pretty wiped out.
It's a battle, day by day. One I hope to win, with the help of good doctors and dedicated nurses, loving husband and family and friends.
As I turn over and try to get comfortable, I think, you know, I'm not alone. So many of us are fighting our own battles, aren't we?
I think of the young parent, wearily walking a teething baby in the small hours of the night. The folks sitting at the kitchen table with the bills spread out before them. The alcoholic who stays sober for just one more day. All the folks who get up and go in to work and give it their best one day after another, often for low pay and long hours. The hands harvesting crops and holding tools. Gardeners kneeling in the dirt planting seeds. People donating blood. Firefighters stepping into their gear and risking their lives for us.
The nurse just poked her head around the curtain. "How you doing?" she says with a smile. I answer her, and she checks the readouts. "You're almost there," she says, and pats me on the shoulder.
It helps so much, doesn't it - when someone sees your pain? And there's so much pain, so many people struggling, but there are millions of people who don't just walk by. They show up at churches basements and hand out meals out with a smile. They take time to listen when you need to talk. In nursing homes and day care centers, hurrying to help and holding hands.
This world of ours, so full of trouble and turmoil, is held together by people like you and me.
I pick up my phone and glance at the news, shaking my head. What's happening to my country? There's where the biggest battle of all is these days, I think. I feel like I'm watching the country I love being torn apart and forged into a new, colder nation. Hardworking people being fired at a moment's notice, decades of service and leadership being tossed to the winds. I don't recognize the country that's being built before my eyes, do you? We've made mistakes, sure, but we were a leader. Now our president is siding with dictators, bullying our allies and working to dismantle all the guardrails and laws that helped us keep our country balanced and fair. It's sickening.
The IV machine beeps, and soon the nurse hurries in. "Just an hour to go," she says, and changes the bag. Drip by drip, little by little, each little drop helping my body fight its way back to health.
As I lie back, I think of all the ways people are fighting to keep the country we love caring and ethical. Millions of people don't want to see our country lose its way. They're flooding the phones and crowding into town halls. They're standing on bridges holding signs, while people honk in support below. They're showing up at marches and writing letters. They're making themselves heard, reminding our leaders that they won't stand for it.
I pull out a packet of postcards from my bag. The next election is coming up, and every card urging people to get out and vote makes a difference. It's one thing I can do. I start to write.
Finally, the IV stand beeps one last time, and the nurse hurries in. "You're all done!" she says, and my husband helps me on with my coat. I walk into the fresh air at last. Driving home we pass the library, where a long line of people are holding signs. We honk the horn in support and I pump my fist, and they smile and wave.
Onward. Step by step, drop by drop, with each small act - let's each do what we can.
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