A Room with a View

I have just a quick update for you. A couple of weeks ago, I sat down with the social worker at the hospital. He works primarily with patients about to receive a stem cell transplant in the Cancer Center. I didn’t know quite what to expect, and to be honest it’s been difficult keeping track of all of these appointments. Amy loads them into my calendar to help me stay organized. I couldn’t do any of this without her. But if you know her, the details and words being entered into the calendar event aren’t always fully formulated. Trust me, she has the details in her head, and she’ll be at the appointment 15 minutes before anyone else, but I don’t always know what I’m walking into. I could be walking into a botox appointment, and I wouldn’t have known until I got there. I guess I could ask more questions, but I feel sort of done with questions at the moment.

Anyways, I guess it’s standard protocol for the social worker to check in on your emotional and mental health before the procedure starts. Furthermore, he asked a lot of good questions about how my family is feeling about my upcoming hospital stay. There has been a lot of indirect talk around our household like “when Dad goes to the hospital we’ll…” or “Yea, lets get Dad some new slippers and a water bottle for his procedure.” But I’ve never directly asked Amy, Eisley, or Shiloh the question, “how are you feeling about all of this” until today.

I think I’ve been avoiding asking that question because I’m afraid that it’ll bring tears. Maybe they’ll cry, then I’ll cry, then they’ll worry, then I’ll worry about them worrying. Sometimes it’s just easier to avoid all of that. Yes, I know that’s not a healthy approach to all of this. I guess that’s where the social worker comes in. I’m glad the hospital offers this type of support.

In my first meeting with him, he asked me a lot of what seemed like standard questions that I wanted to breeze through so I could get back to work. At the end of our time together he asked, “would it be helpful for you to bring your family by the floor and room you’ll be staying in so they can see where you’ll be? I’ll give you all a tour” I didn’t know that was allowed, but it did sound like it could be helpful.

Fast forward to today. At 4:30pm we made our way up to the 6th floor of the Wilmot Cancer Center, where 99% of the people are receiving life-saving treatment for cancer or leukemia. I’m not good at hospitals. The smells and sounds do a number on me. Eisley likes to retell me the story of when her foot got caught in my bike spokes when she was about five years old and about our time in the ER. She likes to see me squirm.

We stepped off the elevator and made our way into the treatment center. It consists of about 30 rooms that are all pressurized to help prevent spread of germs, dust, and anything else that potentially causes an infection or sickness. Eisley and Shiloh were very quiet. We followed our social worker down the hallway where he said “this is where you’ll be staying” as he opened up the door to one of the rooms. This is when it hit me. Suddenly it all became so much more real.

I felt joy and sadness at the same time. I conveniently stepped into the bathroom inside of my room so that I could hide my eyes which had begun to well up a little bit. I took a deep breath and quickly got myself back to normal (kind of). The room is big, has a little sofa area, bed, its own bathroom, and a decent view of the city. It was hard to picture being in there for three weeks, but I know the time in the hospital is just a blip on the radar as it compares to the rest of our lives. I can have visitors, so that is nice. You can watch something on my Michael Scott flatscreen with me.

We did find out that visitors have to be 12-years or older to enter, so that was a bummer for Shiloh to hear. I was bummed about that as well. As we continued our tour, we were able to meet a handful of nurses and other staff that work on the floor. They were all so kind. One of them oversees all the activity happening on the floor. I don’t know what that’s called, but she was the big boss. She instantly looked at Shiloh and recognized that he was under the age limit. She had a big smile on her face and looked at him in his eyes and said “don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get in here to see your Dad.” She assured Amy, Eisley, and Shiloh that she’d take good care of me and get me back to them as healthy and quickly as possible.

I could tell Eisley was struggling a little bit, but she’s good at hiding it. They showed us the small gym located on the corner of the floor which consists of 3-steps, an exercise bike, and a treadmill overlooking Rochester. They told me I could use the floor hallways as a walking track. Only 13 times around to reach one mile. I plan on breaking some of my daily step records.

We finished up, said goodbye to the staff we had met, many of them saying we’ll see you soon! It gave me some peace. I’m sure I'll make some new friends.

We got in the car and started driving home. I asked the kids “How are you feeling about all of this?” Shiloh said “good”, of course. Eisley didn’t say much, but I could tell she was feeling upset. We’ll keep working on it and keep having intentional conversations. I’m grateful for Facetime, friends, doctors, family, people who go above and beyond, and everyone of you who’ve asked how we’re doing. Thanks for loving on my family. I have more I could share, but thats about all I have the energy for.

We’re getting closer and I’m excited to get started and get home. We should have a start date very soon! Love y’all.

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