Thanksgiving was very interesting
this year. Several weeks before, I had
been trying to decide whether or not to cook Thanksgiving dinner. I wanted to go back to Chattanooga, but we
just weren't ready to travel again after being gone so long and home so little
this year. We often spend the holiday
with some good friends here in the Keys, but hadn't yet made plans, so we were
up in the air. Then, Scott received an
email from Al.
The very first phone call Scott
made to Massachusetts General Hospital back in April was answered by the
admitting RN, Al Ferreira, at the MGH Center for Chordoma Care. Al was our contact at the hospital for pretty
much everything. He navigated the red
tape, scheduled the appointments, coordinated the whole team of
doctors/nurses/radiologists, answered our questions, assuaged our fears, and fought
the insurance company for pre-approvals and pain med authorizations. He was a friendly face during morning rounds
in the hospital after surgery; he took Scott’s stitches out, and he was a friend
to just shoot the shit about Dr. Who when that’s what Scott needed. Just a few weeks ago, he was kind enough to
take time from his busy day to get on the phone with me and the insurance
company fighting another charge they were trying to deny. He was the first person Scott spoke to at the
hospital and the last person we said goodbye to. The entire staff at MGH was amazing, but Al
made it all work.
So, the email said that he and
his wife were going to be waking up in Key West on Thanksgiving Day, leaving at
10:00 a.m. and driving to Fort Lauderdale.
He wanted a recommendation for somewhere to get a turkey dinner about 2
hours up the road from Key West. Of
course, we suggested that since our house is almost exactly 2 hours from KW
they should join us for Thanksgiving dinner, and they accepted. I was happy to cook and we were tickled to
get to host them in our home.
I have written about Scott’s
battle with Chordoma, and there is a lot more about it on his Caring Bridge
page.
Basically, it is very rare bone
cancer. Very rare. They call themselves one in a million. There are only about 300 cases in the U.S.
per year. About half of those are
treated at MGH, which is why Scott was there and also why we actually know
quite a few chordoma patients from all over the world even though there are so
few of them. But, the one that totally
blows the statistics is the other sacral chordoma warrior right here in the
Florida Keys. Out of roughly 80,000
people in our little chain of islands, there are 2 in a million. How ‘bout them odds?
And it gets stranger. The guy lives right here in the upper
Keys. And we have, like, a ton of
friends in common. We had never met
Jeffrey and his lovely wife Shevaun before this all started, but I guess life
or fate or karma or something has a way of bringing people together. As soon as friends in the Keys started to
hear Scott’s story this past spring, the first thing many of them said was,
“That sounds like the exact thing Jeffery has.”
Before we knew it, mutual friends put them in touch, Scott called
Jeffrey and a friendship began. Jeffrey
was also treated at MGH, had the exact same team of doctors, and basically the
same procedures except unfortunately, his was significantly worse. His chordoma was one of the largest they had
treated at MGH. His battle has been even
longer and harder than Scott’s, with a few more after effects, but he is also
finished and cancer free!
Of course, Jeffrey and Shevaun
knew Al, so we also invited them to join us for Thanksgiving dinner and they
accepted as well. It was quite a day of giving
thanks! Just being in the company of
both Scott and Jeffrey for their first holiday since kicking cancer’s ass was
such an incredibly positive and uplifting feeling. But when you added Al into
the mix, one of the people directly involved in saving both of their lives, it
was kind of magical. I know Jeffrey and
Shevaun both felt it, I hope Al and his sweet wife Ginger did as well. We all tried to thank Al and tell him how
much he meant to all of us throughout the whole process, but he shrugged it
off. I just hope he got a feel for how
much he means to the patients he helps.
I don’t think anyone can go through
something like cancer treatment and not be changed by the experience. Just being the caregiver of someone in
treatment has changed me. Life seems a
little more precious. I feel like I've
been given a gift of seeing more clearly the people who truly love and support
me and to more easily forgive and let go of those who don’t. Sometimes it’s been surprising to learn who
is in which column. The generosity of
people has humbled me. I will be forever
a more charitable person as a result of this experience. Every day is a gift and I will try and greet
each as such.
I am so proud of Scott for how
strong he has been and how he fought and won his battle. It was a hard year. Cancer treatment is weird medicine…making
people sicker to make them well. The
treatments were tough and I know there were days when Scott wanted to quit, but
he kept going. So did Jeffrey, so did
little Madi in California, so do all of the Chordoma and all the cancer
warriors every single day. If they can
wake up with a smile and a thankful heart, we should all strive to do the same.
It was a real pleasure to have
such an amazing group at my Thanksgiving table this year. As Jeffrey often says, “Peace, love and light”
to you all.
 |
| Our good buddy Wood was invited to join us as well but wasn't able to make it. He did, however, do his usual rogue decorating… __________________ |
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