Why? Pourquoi? Por que? Warum?

Regardless of your native language, this is a question that most people would constantly ask God if they were going through my situation. I can say that I am also guilty of pleading those words but have quickly changed my linguistics based on current experiences. I feel that this is a prime opportunity to learn about myself, become a better individual, and a well rounded clinician. As my mom always says, "there's always someone out there worse than you."

My radiation treatments were pushed back 2 days as my radiation oncologist did not like the initial mould made for my hand during radiation and asked me to come in on Tuesday to make another mould and CT scan. Becoming quite irritated, because I am ready to get this over with, I made the trek to Emory University Hospital-Midtown for the appointment. Let me tell you, I should've brushed up on my yoga or at least stretched because I was told to maneuver my body into awkward positions and "hold it" for long periods of time to then be told that "it wasn't the optimal angle". Finally we found a position and a mould, with my arm extended over my head while lying on my back, and man my body ached the next day! Anyway, I made my "orientation" appointment yesterday to learn how to check in, what to expect, etc. Sitting in the waiting room waiting to be called I noticed that I was the only person under the age of 65....seriously. That all changed once a spunky young girl walked in with her mom. She was so adorable clothed in her private school uniform, no older than at least 6, sporting cat eyed glasses, and no hair. She was extremely observant turning to her mom asking, "Mommy, why does everyone in the room have hair but me?" My heart broke again into a million pieces. While I listened intently (kinda eavesdropping) to her mom's response I realized that it just was not fair for this small individual to have to face such an intense question. I flashed a smile at the two of them, my eyes filled with tears, and was called back for radiation.

I was greeted by 3 punctual and happy radiation therapist. They made every effort to make me feel comfortable and at ease while drawing all over my hand with sharpie. Ok, we can send people to the moon and perform face transplants but have to mark people going through treatment with sharpie? And told not to let it disappear until treatment is completed? Seriously, there are other avenues like henna but apparently sharpie is the best invention at the current time! Again I was told to lie down on the small hospital bed while 4 people plugged in my approximate coordinates. I felt like I was a science experiment with every small measure taking a million years. I was asked gratefully if I was comfortable almost every minute and finally told them that I am fine and I just wanted to "rock and roll". As soon as they got the go ahead from the doctor and locked the heavy door behind them, I immediately had a meeting with my dad. The employees essentially locked me in a bubble and I had a moment where I was able to tell my dad that I was scared but will fight on for him. Tears started to roll down my cheeks as I wished that I could call him or talk to him but knew that he was watching over me. Holding as still as possible and hearing the clicks of the radiation beam for literally 15 seconds, killing the enemy in my hand, it was over. I was told to come every day, Monday through Friday, at 7:15am. They also expressed the necessity to be on time as the babies from Children's Healthcare of Atlanta come at 7:30 for treatment and had to be put to sleep. Once again, another stab at my heart. I left to go back to work and stopped to treat myself to some much needed comfort food, Chick-Fil-A.

Fast forward to today. I woke up at 5:30 to venture to my second treatment of radiation. Half asleep I stopped at Starbucks (I went before and after treatment) to hopefully cure my half asleep stupor...bless Starbucks gift cards! Anyway, I found out that Emory will pay for valet parking, which is a plus, and that the guys working at the valet are cute (helloooooooo 5 weeks of seeing me everyday)! I stumble to the radiation oncology unit and wait for my name to be called. Once again, I am filled with the most loving and optimistic individuals waiting for their name to be called. I go back and was told to "resume position". I lay down put my arm up and wait for the beam to attack my cancer. 15 seconds afterwards, my radiation tech comes in to help me get down and get going. I curiously ask if all radiation treatments are as quick as mine. He chuckled innocently and said, "oh no, yours is a complete breeze compared to the others I have each day." I probed for more information in which I was told that he "had to do treatment on a baby's brain from 7:30-10". Stunned I shook my head and told him to have a great weekend. Walking out of the facility I saw a sweet, young soul, all of about 3 years of age, being cradled by his mother. I smiled optimistically towards both the mother and child sharing my love and heart for them to hold onto. I walked, in disbelief, to wait for my car trying to absorb what I was just told and what I had witnessed. As soon as I got into my car, I started to cry and asking myself "why". Why does a child have to succumb to something so detrimental? A child who should be worrying where his/her legos have gone, who will be "it" for hide-and-go-seek, and enjoy spending their early years singing "Itsy Bitsy Spider" rather than why they are not well? I also mourned for the parents who are faced with the ill stricken thought of potentially losing their child to an illness that they have no control over. Why? I understand that I was given this cancer to make me a stronger person; however, I was given the chance to play with my neighbors until my mom yelled for me to come home for dinner, eat mud, and swim like a fish. I called my mom and told her of what I saw and to share my confusion. Once again, she told me "there's always someone off worse than you". On my way to work I spoke with my dad, through prayer, and also to God for the comfort of those families.

Although this has been a difficult year, I've learned so much about my family, my heavenly father, and ultimately myself. I am blessed for what I have been faced with and hope that I can use this to help those around me.

Pretty hand art I have to sport for the next 5 weeks....Who wants to go on a date?! ;) 

My dad's thumb print was made into a pendant. I've never taken it off of my neck.