March 27, 2013 - Beautiful

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.
 

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.