What that translates into is constant worry and an inability to sleep, which only adds to the radio's blaring sound. This anxiety is certainly understandable. I have just switched treatments, which has yet to be proven as working (scans are in December), and have been having to adjust to the side effects of this new treatment (Perjeta is particularly known for causing gastrointestinal issues). On top of this, I've also just switched to a new cancer center only to find out that the new oncologist has a tendency to not listen to my concerns, it's a bit her way or the highway, and that the system has some confusing and strange rules such as all patients need to be out of the infusion center by 4:45 pm since all the doctors have left by then, no matter how the patient might be faring after their treatment. My guess is that this rule is based on concerns about liability and the desire is to transfer that liability on to the street or to the local ER. So I have been wracked with anxiety and concern for multiple reasons, and the result is that I have been spending my nights plagued by high-level panic and very little sleep. This has taken its toll.
This last Friday was one of those nights. I was up most of the night, panicked, attempting to get my mind off thoughts of the future by listening to music, reading, or just sheer power of will. It wasn't working. By the time my alarm went off Saturday morning I had gotten maybe 3 or 4 hours sleep out of the 8 I typically need. I was exhausted, but once day comes, I usually can get up and go about my business.
Saturday mornings I attend an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting and I've committed to bringing a pint of half and half to the meeting for the morning coffee that is provided. I parked, went into the local grocery store, and walked back to the dairy section. An employee was working in the area, cleaning the glass doors of the cooler and re-stocking shelves. The half and half was on the top shelf of the cooler, and far back, so my 5'4" self could not reach the pint. I asked the employee if he could reach it for me. He turned to me, said a few words, and then pulled the half and half off the shelf. He handed me the pint, looked me in the face, quickly touched my shoulder and said, "Take it day by day." At first I thought he was making a general statement to me, something he said to everyone, like "Have a blessed day" and I didn't think much of it.
But he continued by saying, "Whatever you're going through, know that there are people who care about you. Give it all over to God." My mind registered shock. I thanked him and then I walked away. As I walked down the grocery store aisle, the shock increased. How did he know I was in distress? As I continued down the aisle, I almost broke into sobs. I paid for the half and half at a self-serve checkout to avoid possibly breaking down in front of a clerk, and I rushed out the door.
Later, at my AA meeting, I told this story and then I finally cried. This man working in a grocery store did not know me, yet he had somehow sensed the yawning fear in my soul and spoken words of comfort to me. He had provided the comfort I so badly needed, a human voice telling me that somehow everything was going to be all right, that all I needed to do was take it one day at a time. That is the key to living with such a horrible truth as a terminal disease, take it day by day. But it is easy to move out of day by day and into the wreckage of my future when the disease becomes challenging. This stranger was helping me to move back into a place where I had a little bit of control, how I dealt with the cancer during that one day, and letting my fears go to some other place, a higher power, God, or whatever you call it. To tell you the truth, one thought I had as I walked out of the store was that I should invite that man to move into my house so he could say this to me every day. I could use hearing this wisdom every day.
However he knew my story, he spoke a series of blessed words to me, words that save my heart and soul, and I am grateful. He may have been stocking shelves in a grocery store, but to me he was an angel in disguise, a reverend, a rabbi, a teacher. Perhaps he needs to put down the milk cartons and pick up a preacher's stole instead. While the world does need milk, in my mind it is in greater need of words of comfort, and I am very grateful that that is what he gave to me. I can't even think of how to repay his kindness, but I am very, very glad that on a Fall Saturday morning, after a night of anxiety driven by lack of sleep, I went into a grocery store to buy a container of half and half that was too high for me to reach, and I asked for and got the help I so desperately needed. Thank you.
