Start of a long journey

The alarm went off only 20 minutes earlier than normal, but it felt much earlier. I wanted so bad to hit the snooze, but today is the day. Ready or not, this (June 23) is day one of chemo treatments for my beautiful bride.

After a three hour drive to Denver, a three minute blood draw, we now are waiting for a 10 a.m. Doctor’s appointment. It is, 9:04 a.m.

The waiting room at the University of Colorado Hospital’s Cancer Center is full. A young man in a wheelchair, an older man in a Chicago Cubs hat, three younger women set in the front row with an empty seat in between.

Then there is the little girl, maybe three-or four-years old, with her mom. The girl was stealing everyone hearts. She was oblivious to the seriousness of the place she and her mom, with a bandage around her arm, found themselves.

In the corner a lady with a scarf around her waits patiently. I glance her way and thought, next visit, my wife could have a similar hair style.

Next to me, my wife, Linda, worked on a row of white yarn on the afghan she is crocheting for our granddaughter.

A young lady, maybe 20 years old, sits nearby with her mom. They talk, laugh as she shows her mom something on her cell phone. I wonder, is she here to support mom or is mom supporting her?

I’m curious of the many stories in the room. There are so many stories, some just starting, some are the last chapters, others somewhere in-between. For some there will be a happy ending, but there are sure to be a number of stories whose final paragraph will break your heart.

Not everyone in the room was facing the same cancer as Linda. In fact, ovarian cancer accounts for about three percent of cancers in women.

In the United States there was an estimated 21,290 women diagnosed in 2015 with ovarian cancer, according to the National Cancer Institute.

A patient, such as my Linda, is diagnosed in one of four stages. Stage one, two, three or four.

Survival rate is highest in stage one, that is where they have placed Linda. The cancer was found early. Only 15 percent of cases are discovered at this stage. The majority are diagnosed in stage three.

Linda’s story will have a happy ending, I’m almost 100 percent sure it (92.1 percent survive when found in stage one), but getting there is not going to be fun or easy.

“Linda,” the medical assistant called out.

We head back for a short visit with the Doctor, then it’s off to the “infusion center.”

Finally, we make it back to a chair in the infusion center and the nurse arrives.

“Mrs. Staman, did I say it right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m JoAnn. I’ll be your nurse today.”

She then began putting in the IV.

“Today will be your longest day,” she explained. “You will get your premeds, then we’ll let you set for an hour.”

After one and a-half bags of chemo meds, my butt is numb and the eye lids are getting heavy. Both Linda and I are bored’ but we are still a long way from done.

The ordeal continued, then, finally . . .

“Beep beep! Beep beep! Beep beep!”

The alarm began sounding at 6:37 p.m.

“You can go home,” JoAnn said, as she unhooked the IV.

We gathered together our stuff and headed out of the infusion center.

Walking to the wonder what kind of hangover my beautiful bride will have tomorrow and over the next few days?

On day two, the hang over didn’t arrive. In fact Linda had more energy than I did on day two.

It was Saturday the hang over showed up. It lingered for three more long days.

On July 14, we will again crawl out of bed early and make another trip to the infusion center for round two. It too will be a long day on this long unplanned, unwanted journey.