the world of oncology

Yesterday my mother had her fifth chemotherapy treatment at Tennessee Oncology. Since Mom was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer in April, the extended Brown family has been learning to navigate a world colored by cancer. My mother is handling the stresses associated with cancer admirably, drawing on the coping skills she honed raising four children (who were born within a 4 1/2 year span) and teaching elementary school students for three decades. 

The first half of the summer was excruciating difficult for Mom - and the rest of the family - as she dealt with debilitating side effects from an experimental drug, including painful mouth sores that made it difficult for her to eat and drink, leading to excessive weight loss, dehydration, and malnourishment. Last month her oncologist pulled her off the drug, and the symptoms quickly subsided. Yesterday, however, the oncologist decided to give this drug another shot, albeit at a lower dose. He is optimistic that the lower dosage will minimize the side effects. I hope he's right.

On the first day that my family met with the oncologist, we also met the woman who is in charge of the clinical trials. As I observed her interact with my mom, I noted that she did a remarkable job of putting my mom at ease, despite the difficult circumstances. She answered her questions frankly and sensitively, and repeatedly encouraged her to be hopeful. By the end of the consultation, I understood why she had connected with my mom so easily - she is a cancer survivor. 

As I reflected on this interaction, I recalled Henri Nouwen's classic work The Wounded Healer, in which he makes the case that we heal from our own wounds. Nouwen's words had a profound impact on me when I first read it fifteen years ago, and I realize that I need to reread it soon. I have a hunch that God has a timely message for me among Nouwen's words.