So my uncle has cancer. A particularly nasty one, but he somehow caught it early, and so he’s on the good side of a nasty probability curve. They’re well-off, and live near New York, so he’s getting treatment that’s at the edge of the state of the art.<\/p>\n
Once a week he gets chemotherapy now (down from once a day), and once a day radiation therapy. For the last three days, I’ve driven him in, to give my aunt a break and to get some time with him one-on-one.<\/p>\n
And I’ve been introduced to an amazing community, and to the very best of human nature.<\/p>\n
It turns out that the appointments are at set times, and so he’s always there with the same group of people and their caretakers, and they have a kind of a club. He had to introduce me when we came in, and I sat with the other patients and caretakers and listened to them talk, because they do talk a lot.<\/p>\n
And I’m stunned by something, by the grace and kindness and care that they take with each other. My aunt and uncle have a place in Mexico where they usually go for the winter; they’re working to get some of the other snowbirds to bring back a drug which one of the patients – a tow truck driver with lung cancer – needs, and which costs $60\/dose here (he needs two a day). It costs $18\/dose in Mexico.<\/p>\n
Several of the people are in pretty bad shape, and everyone hovers around them, tending.<\/p>\n
One women – swollen from steroids, I’d guess, dopy from painkillers and with some kind of neurological effect which makes it hard for her to move – came in. They’re Hispanic, and based on their clothes, not rich. Apparently their car broke down and another couple – just back from an around-the-world sailing trip – loaned them one. Kindness, care, and politeness mask the fear and concern.<\/p>\n
The Hispanic woman’s husband dressed her for the cold this morning, tenderly pulling her coat on as she sat in her wheelchair, arranging her hat on her head, and then kissing her before he rolled her out.<\/p>\n