The Clinic Club

Every third wednesday now we go to Little Rock to get your big doses of chemo.  I have never found a more sobering place then the oncology clinic at the children's hospital. The clinic makes us realize all the things we are grateful for.  It is hard sometimes to realize the hard things people have to deal with in an oncology clinic.  It makes losing a little hair for a few months, and a little energy, and even a kidney, not so bad.  When we first started at the clinic, we were both nervous.  So many kids, all struggling with so much with their sweet bare heads and masks on their faces.  You kept close to me. You whispered and wondered about each of the kids and what they might have.  We felt so out of place there. 

It's funny how it didn't take long until we didn't need to whisper and wonder. Because we knew. It was like we joined a secret club.  Suddenly we knew why all those kids were so happy dispite their physical differences, or their lack or energy.  It really doesn't matter how much you are dealing with or what it is, everyone wants to be happy. These kids choose to be happy, everyday instead of looking for all the reasons to be miserable.  I can see now, why we are told in the scriptures to be like unto the little children.  Those kids, they have a lot to teach us.

Now that we are in the club, we see new patients come in.  We watch them try to get numbing cream on their ports, and get the pacaderm over it just right.  We watch them with their thick, flowing hair and wonder now if they are wondering about us.  We realize that there is some good that comes from cancer too, and we hope they aren't too scared.  We try to remember the things we thought, when we came in the first time. 

One day in the clinic, we saw Sydney.  She is a teenager.  She had beatiful hair halfway down her back.  You admired it.  We didn't know her name back when she and her friend and her mom helped her get ready for her first treatment. 

We found out her name three weeks later, when we noticed a girl in a wheelchair, with a baseball cap covering her bald head, and a fresh pink scar that ran up the back of her neck and dissapeared underneath her hat.  You told me you thought whoever it was, had brain cancer.  I nodded noticing the familiar mom I saw with a lively teenager only a few short weeks before.  When I made the connection, I reminded you of the girl whose hair you had envied and told you she was the same girl. 

You were surprised, and then I saw the empathy etched in your face. You knew all too well how that felt, to be so lively and normal one day, and be tossed through a physcial and emotional whirlwind.  You wanted to meet her, and bring her one of your lollipops.  Her dad was rubbing her feet, and told us her name.  He was the sweetest man, so concerned with you, and proud of the energy and liveliness you had. Here we were going to help them, and they were cheering us on.  Parents of kids with cancer are so sweet and  understanding, because they are in the club too. 

You were too shy to say much so I spoke for you. I told them you noticed Sydney a few weeks ago. I told them you remember recovering from surgery too, and it was hard, but time goes fast.  That's a good thing sometimes.  Their joy and encouragment strengthened me.  They were the kind of people you could spend the day with, their happiness was so infectious.  People like that make the clinic magical.  It is a place of common ground, for kids, and parents.  It brings people together from every background and culture.  It is a place of unity and understanding.  It's a place with amazing doctors who fight for you kids.  Their is a special place in heaven for pediatric Oncologists and staff.  We love how they cheer with our victories, and how they know just when to worry with us.  They are in the club too. 

Sometimes I think about the times when we weren't in the club.  How simple things were then.  How much I never knew.  I don't know if I could give back my membership now.  I'm such a different person, you are too.  You never knew how brave and how tough you could be. You amaze me everyday, and teach me and your dady and your siblings so much. We will all be forever changed for the better.  No, I dont think we could give that membership to the clinic club back.