Listen to the Little Voice

Chemo on Monday was a hard day - for me.  The room was packed with people who could not get treatment on Thursday and Friday due to the holidays.  Many of the caregivers sat around tables doing puzzles, chatting, reading.  I was fortunate to have a chair to sit beside Joe but all 50 recliners were filled with people receiving treatment.  Most of the time the atmosphere is quiet some chatting with your neighbors about what disease you have and where are you in your treatment but almost always it's a subdued time.  Not on Monday.  Monday with so many people in the room the noise was sometimes at a party level.  Monday I paid way too much attention to patients as they came in and settled down.  For some reason we could hear everyone talking about their holiday's and how they didn't throw up and only had to take a couple of naps.  My ears were trying to reject these conversations - I don't like to know that part of this demon.  One couple at the end of our row, married over 60 years, were both receiving treatment.  The gentleman, I am guessing a little hard of hearing based on the level of his speech, called them the chemo couple.  It reminded me of a dear friend whose parents are both being treated for cancer right now.  What a humbling experience for them.

By this time, I was on the verge of tears.  I actually said to Joe "This is way too much sensory overload".  "It's just too much and I can't ....."  I stopped mid sentence and looked up to see my friend Tami walk through the back doors.  Tami had just had a double mastectomy following her second round of breast cancer after being cancer free 9 years.  She looked terrified.  I got up and walked to her and scooped her in my arms while she cried softly.   We chatted briefly and she left for her doctor appointment and we planned for her to sit next to Joe when she came in for treatment.  Suddenly, the room didn't seem quite so depressing and oppressive.  Tami and her mother walked over to our chairs and she told us that she had to go get a blood test and would be back in an hour.  We knew that Joe would be done by that time so we probably would not get to chat again.

Joe's time with chemo was done and for some reason instead of leaving by the back doors as we always do I felt we needed to go out the front door.  As we walked out  there sat Tami, waiting to get checked in for her first chemo.  My heart was breaking for her, seeing the fear of the unknown on her face.  A look I've seen way too many times and have forgotten how haunting it is.  We stopped and talked, offered some advice, hints, things we've picked up over the years. Comforting word.  We left and I promised to text her.  When we got home and ate a little lunch I texted her to see how she was.  She told me that it was a blessing to her that we were there to talk to her and I told her that I knew it was a God thing because I had such a strong feeling to leave the building that way.  She responded "I was up all night crying and I asked (God) for some help to get thru this.  Now I know he's listening to me."  The hairs on my neck stood up.

How many times do you get that "feeling" to do something you had not planned to do or say something to someone - sometimes a stranger but you didn't.  I know I ignore that feeling more times than I should.  Oh, I can't talk to a stranger.  It will take to long to do that.  I don't have the time or I don't have the money.  I'll do it next time.  I forget that the REASON I am lead to do something for someone is not always about MY needs.  God prompts us to act on other's needs.  Other's prayers.  Other's fears.  Do you want to be responsible for another not receiving a blessing?  I promise that I will not immediately react negatively to these urges.  I promise that I will take time and try to put myself in other's situations.  I promise that I will try to be a blessing to others.  I promise to listen to that quiet voice promising me "you can do it."