"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tunes without the words and never stops at all." - Emily Dickinson
Elizabeth is halfway through week two of her proton radiation, and she continues to figure out how to juggle the emotional and physical journey of treating a brain tumor while trying to maintain some sense of normalcy. The radiation treatments last a little under an hour each day, and she is required to lie still on her back with a hard plastic mesh mask locked into the table. Clenching a mouth guard in addition to the mask ensures she will not move during the treatment. Because of the long held position, Elizabeth's neck and upper back have a constant cramp. Last week, to celebrate the end of a rather emotional week, I scheduled a massage for her at the Healthy Living Center at the Mayo Clinic. Yesterday, in her weekly meeting with her oncologist, the doctor told her he would write orders for messages. Moments like that give Elizabeth hope.
Before I left Minnesota last week, we were able to move Elizabeth into the Hope Lodge, an American Cancer Society supported home away from home for patients undergoing extended treatments. Supported by donors and volunteers, this 60 room building has a wide variety of common spaces and private spaces as well as 8 kitchens. Elizabeth has a private room with its own bath, and she has shelves assigned to her in the kitchen (including the fridge and freezer). Appropriately called the Hope Lodge, the volunteers work to make sure patients are comfortable and their emotional and physical needs are met. "Hope is the thing with feathers...
Fortunately, Elizabeth's amazing employer has provided her with a laptop and projects so she can continue her work. While she misses her colleagues, she is able to keep herself focused on work, and this helps provide some normalcy in a place where time seems suspended. Friends and family continue to send her cards, gifts, and messages which sustain her spirit. While her prognosis is amazing, going through the emotional and physical stresses of radiation (and the looming chemotherapy treatments) can be taxing. The support each of us feels helps us realize this part of the journey is temporary. ".... and sings the tunes without the words and never stops at all..."
Elizabeth is halfway through week two of her proton radiation, and she continues to figure out how to juggle the emotional and physical journey of treating a brain tumor while trying to maintain some sense of normalcy. The radiation treatments last a little under an hour each day, and she is required to lie still on her back with a hard plastic mesh mask locked into the table. Clenching a mouth guard in addition to the mask ensures she will not move during the treatment. Because of the long held position, Elizabeth's neck and upper back have a constant cramp. Last week, to celebrate the end of a rather emotional week, I scheduled a massage for her at the Healthy Living Center at the Mayo Clinic. Yesterday, in her weekly meeting with her oncologist, the doctor told her he would write orders for messages. Moments like that give Elizabeth hope.
Before I left Minnesota last week, we were able to move Elizabeth into the Hope Lodge, an American Cancer Society supported home away from home for patients undergoing extended treatments. Supported by donors and volunteers, this 60 room building has a wide variety of common spaces and private spaces as well as 8 kitchens. Elizabeth has a private room with its own bath, and she has shelves assigned to her in the kitchen (including the fridge and freezer). Appropriately called the Hope Lodge, the volunteers work to make sure patients are comfortable and their emotional and physical needs are met. "Hope is the thing with feathers...
Fortunately, Elizabeth's amazing employer has provided her with a laptop and projects so she can continue her work. While she misses her colleagues, she is able to keep herself focused on work, and this helps provide some normalcy in a place where time seems suspended. Friends and family continue to send her cards, gifts, and messages which sustain her spirit. While her prognosis is amazing, going through the emotional and physical stresses of radiation (and the looming chemotherapy treatments) can be taxing. The support each of us feels helps us realize this part of the journey is temporary. ".... and sings the tunes without the words and never stops at all..."