Twice blest

(This article appeared in the February 2005 issue of Mirror magazine)

“This doesn’t look very good. You have to see an oncologist.”

My mind went numb upon hearing the word “oncologist” from the gynecologist who was reading the result of the Dopler test I had at the Makati Medical Center. It showed that the mass in my ovary was malignant. I have cancer.

Sitting alone at the corridor of the Makati Med, it took me sometime before I could cry.But only for a few minutes because I immediately set to work on my problem. I made calls looking for a gynecologist-oncologist. In less than two hours, I was able to find one:Dr. Cecilia Llave, chair of the PGH Cancer Institute.
After that, I decided to go to a movie, Under the Tuscan Sun. While being enthralled by the beautiful scenery of Tuscany, I was crying.

Being single, I’m used to doing things on my own. I was proud of my independence. My policy in life was, the less I rely on other people, the better.

That was one of the things that changed when cancer got me. My illness compelled me to be dependent on other people for doing the most simple things such as going to the bathroom or reaching out for something.

I had my first lesson on the disadvantage of individualism when I checked in at the Philippine General Hospital for my surgery. I checked in alone. I was already in my room when I realized that I did not bring drinking water. I asked the nurse if I could go down to buy bottled drinking water but she said hospital rules forbid patients to go out of the room. “Don’t you have a companion?” she asked in a surprised tone as if it’s SOP that a patient bring along a companion.

I told her that I rushed to the PGH alone because everybody in the house was in the office when the hospital room I was requesting became available and I had to take it within an hour.

My problem with drinking water was solved when I called up my sister-in-law and informed her that I was already in the hospital. She came during her lunch break to bring me a gallon of drinking water and other things I needed which I forgot to bring.

One of the side effects of Taxol, the very expensive medicine used for my chemotherapy was my fingers and toes became numb. I had difficulty holding things. I needed assistance to just to pour hot water in my glass. I needed someone to help me button my blouse. It was frustrating.

In my weakened physical state, my fierce sense of independence was shattered. In practicing the adage, “it’s better to give than to receive”, I had formed the mistaken notion that the giver is superior to the receiver. Finding myself at the receiving end was a blow to my ego.

Coupled with the unpleasant effects of chemotherapy, I became irritable and demanding as if the world revolved around me. It was as if the world owed me a favor because I have cancer.

It had to take our household help, who became fed up with my nitpicking over such things as dusty furniture and over- cooked vegetables, to make me realize that my attitude was not making it easy for me and everybody in the house to cope with my illness.

Last week, my cousin called if I want her to accompany me to my medical checkup. Eagerly, I said “yes”. In between my abdominal C.T. scan and my chest ultrasound was a good three-hour wait. We went shopping and we had a good time.

I now appreciate better William Shakespeare’s lines in The Merchant of Venice :

The quality of mercy is not strained.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven.
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest.
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.