When I return to my
home town of Dayton, Ohio I always make sure that I go by places from my past,
places of familiarity. I always like to run by the house that I grew up in,
always hoping that it might be for sale and I could act like an interested
buyer and take a look inside. I’ll even
run by the baseball field that I hit my lone home run as a young baseball
player. Lastly, I will run by Calvary
Cemetery to visit my parents’ graves. I’m not sure that they can hear me but I
always have something to say to them. It always brings me a little closer to my
past and all that they meant to me. Familiarity is important to all of us.
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| Nurse Gerri Wensloff at Four Winds Hemotology. |
Since I started this
journey four years ago there have been many, many people in my life. I have had
hundreds and hundreds of blood tests, twenty five radiation treatments, fifteen
immunization shots, two cataract surgeries, two bone marrow biopsies, one
kidney biopsy, two complete sets of body x-rays, multiple MRIs and somewhere
around seventy five injectable chemotherapy treatments. Through all of that I
have had four constants, Mr. Mikhael, Dr. Obenchain, Dr. Hogan and Gerri
Wensloff.
Gerri works for Dr.
Obenchain and she was the very first person to inject me with the poison that
has kept me alive for those four years. I’ll never forget the day that I showed
up for my first treatment of Velcade and Doxil.
Understand, I have never been one to appreciate having a needle stuck in
me. As a kid I even passed out when I received a shot. Let’s don’t even go into
how many times I have been a bit shaky when I have had a blood test. The
thought of getting an IV and sitting there for four hours was not exactly
something that I had on my bucket list. You hear about the horrors of chemo and
you just never know what to expect.
Yet Gerri was there
for me during the entire four hours even missing lunch to make sure I was
comfortable and not dying from some type of allergic reaction to the
chemo. She didn’t have to do that, but
that is who she is. I don’t think that
you could find a more likable, caring person to deal with this dreaded disease.
Until you have
experienced being in that room, it is impossible to comprehend what is taking
place. This isn’t like the dreaded trip to the dentist when you know a filling
is coming. That feeling comes and goes and you are pretty much by yourself.
When you receive chemotherapy, you are in a room with five, six or seven other
people that are going through the same thing.
We are all at different levels of potential death and none of us know
who will be back next week. You all hope that this will be the answer, but you
never really know for sure.
Some of us like to
talk to those around us while others try to sleep away the experience because
of the pain, nausea and general tiredness. Yet, Gerri always seemed to know how
to deal with each of us. If we wanted our peace, she gave us that. If we wanted
to talk about what was happening, she gave us that. As you can imagine, I was a
little different.
Over the last four
years I have received everything from Gerri from a hug to banners with my name
on them to a fake trumpet serenade to a pole dance (yes, you heard that
right.) She even came in on her normal
day off just because she knew I was going to be there. She has always known
what I needed. But now I will have to continue my journey without her as she
will be returning to Indiana to be with her family and a new grandchild. I’m
sure we will both move on as you always must, but it will never be the same; I
will forever miss that familiarity, that caring touch.
There
are younger and prettier nurses than Gerri but I am not sure that I will ever
know a more beautiful one.
