The first major step is over. My Mother had her first round of chemotherapy this morning/afternoon. There were some initial tests that had to be run first, but then around noon she sat down in the chair for the treatment.
It was a fairly surreal experience, sitting with her. Kind of like I was outside of myself "looking in." The staff and nurses at Fairview Southdale were great, and did a nice job reassuring her and answering her (millions of) questions.
For the first hour or so, a guy came into the treatment room and played guitar. He never really played anything, he just sort of noodled around. It was kind of funny...nobody seemed to pay any attention to him...he just did his thing. To be honest, I never even really noticed when he left.
I've noticed a desire in my Mom to want to pull back and isolate herself. I've seen this before in people I have worked with who were in similar situations of crisis. My sense is that they want to isolate others (and possibly themselves) from the emotional and psychological pain that they experience. I haven't really noticed it before in such an intense way...I haven't walked through this with a family member before.
The reality of suffering is a little more vivid for me right now. The power of emotional pain is tangible.
The treatment went well. Many of the understandings I had are old and out-of-date. It's not a picnic, but it's not, according to the nurses, as acute as it used to be in terms of reactions. However, that's easy for me to say.
I find myself looking for theological meanings in this experience. But they are not clear to me yet. I think it's all just too new.
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