Chemotherapy Diary #3: Cycle Three

While I was sitting waiting for Annie's blood test results the other day, it occurred to me that the hospital I was in was probably the best place in the world to have a heart attack. That being the case, I made absolutely sure that I didn't laugh too vigorously.

It was Annie's third chemo session (just one to go!!) and we were all squeezed into the crowded little waiting room where Annie had just emerged from having her blood test. Her face was crinkled in pain and her arm bent upwards to keep the cotton wool from falling off the puncture wound she had just been given. "Adoi, sakit bah" she said ("ouch it hurts!") and she took her place between my son and I at the back of the room.

We had arrived at the hospital hyper-early to get the blood test done (7 am) and the blood testing lab waiting room was already filling up with young and old. We had already established our slot in the wonderfully bureaucratic system by which health care is administered in Malaysia. It's so simple. You go to the front desk, hand in your appointment card, wait for fifteen minutes, they call your name, they give you a number, you sit down and wait for your number to appear in bright red letters on the wall monitor.

This kind of system is used widely in banks, some shops, most government departments and is, I suppose the best way available of managing queues in a culture that doesn't understand what a queue is. Some of these ticket based queuing systems have robotic voices that periodically announce things like "satu dua lima kosong, kaunter empat" (one two five zero, counter four), usually accompanied by a slightly off-key beep.

Well, in the hospital, there was no beep or robotic voice, just a harried-looking lady with a microphone. Perhaps she had been up all night dreaming of beeping robots and wishing that they could do her job for her so that she can get back to her card game on the computer. Maybe...

So anyway, Annie's test results came back, and we all trundled off through the Harry Potteresque labyrinth that is the Sarawak General Hospital. After stocking up on nibbles and drinkies, we made our way to the oncology department, for Annie's third dose of medical poisoning.

The oncology department is located in a different building and the way you get to it is worthy of Kafka. From the blood testing laboratory, it's a short couple of hundred yard walk to a set of elevators. You take the elevator one floor up to the first floor (usually it's quicker to take the stairs!). Then, you turn right and walk along a covered walkway which is actually a bridge linking the two buildings.

Across the bridge, you find yourself in the cancer ward, where patients and their visitors are arranged for all the world to see. I always feel slightly uncomfortable walking through a crowded hospital ward. It's a bit like walking through someone's bedroom while they are still in bed eating their breakfast.

Anyway, you turn right through the ward and you come to another set of elevators. Take the elevator down to the ground floor and then turn left (or is it right? can't remember!) and you arrive at the chemotherapy waiting area with the water feature and the room with the stained glass!

Phew!! I feel like sitting down. And I'm not the patient!!

This time, Annie's chemotherapy has taken its toll just a bit. The second session featured very severe mouth ulcers - sometimes she couldn't eat, swallow or talk properly, and understandably her mood, and that of my son and I, was a bit subdued this time. But, luckily, she was taken into the chemo salon quite early, after being weighed, and took her place once again. Two and a half hours later, Annie emerged, with some new drugs and something to help her with the mouth ulcers. She was happier, because she had made some more new friends, including one of my work colleagues who is recovering from throat cancer.

You see, gentle readers, cancer is a disease that must be handled, and treated, with the support of others. Nobody should have to face cancer alone. Stress and worry and anxiety can cause the immune system to be suppressed, and that's when cancer thrives. So one thing we try to do in our family is to make Annie as happy and stress-free as possible (even where there are painful mouth ulcers, headaches and vomiting to contend with!). And that means going with her to the hospital and holding her hand when necessary.

So if you have a loved one who is suffering from cancer, undergoing cancer treatment or who is facing death from cancer, it is your duty to keep him or her smiling and happy. Happiness spawns hope, hope leads to well-being and well-being can bring recovery.

So spread the word. Be happy. Support your loved ones. Keep reading this blog!!