Cancer

CHAPTER 1 The Shocking News I was at the hospital, unconscious from the anesthesia and waiting for Dr. Low to remove the shunt he had inserted when I saw myself lying on a bed on a runway. It was an airstrip in a field with bushes all around and no buildings in sight. The runway looked brand new like it was just paved and had never been used. Deep yellow lines in the center looked freshly painted. I lay on a bed at one end of the runway. At the other end was a private jet. Suddenly, I heard footsteps running toward me, but I saw no one. The footsteps were running very fast, coming at me, and then I heard a voice: “Is this my patient?” the voice said. “Move away, move away.” The voice sounded like Dr. Low. I recalled this weeks after my procedure but never mentioned it to anyone. It had all started five years earlier, on a beautiful September evening in 2011. I was excited to be meeting with a new patient; I was a caregiver, a certified nurse’s assistant. As I was getting dressed, I felt something running down my face and realized I was having a nosebleed. In all of my fifty-plus years I’d never had a nosebleed. I was never sick; I’d had no illnesses besides childhood measles and colds here and there. Quickly, I took a piece of tissue and tried to stop the bleeding, but it was useless. The blood was thick and no intervention to stop the bleeding seemed to work. The nosebleed lasted for about one hour. Considering that I'd never been sick before this nosebleed, I was frightened. I had no health insurance as I was never sick and therefore saw health insurance as an unnecessary expense. The only health issue I experienced was fatigue: I would go to sleep tired and wake up tired, but I never considered that a big deal. I thought it was just part of getting older. Once the nosebleed stopped, I never thought about it again. My father was an herbalist. When I was young, many people knew him as the medicine man because of his knowledge of healing plants, knowledge that was handed down to him from his father. It amazed me that these men knew so much and had no formal education. As a child, I was always by my father’s side when he cultivated these plants, which were planted on the hill just behind our farmhouse. He grew all the vegetables, herbs, and flowers for his home remedies from seed. Ingredients he used for his medicines could include honey, onions, garlic, tree bark, and some type of animal fat. He completely cured one of my sisters of asthma with his medicines. My father noticed my interest in his medicines and would often say to me, “You should be a nurse.” But I couldn’t imagine being a nurse and taking care of sick people. Instead, I grew up to work in several different fields. First, I worked at a radio station, summarizing stories for children. After that, I worked in the banking field for many years, in the accounting and funds management departments. My passion, however, lies in creative arts, and I went on to become an entrepreneurial garden designer, creating garden designs for private clients to enhance their home environment. One day, to my surprise, a very close friend in the medical field asked me to help her with one of her patients. Right away I told her that was something I could not do. The patient, my friend said, needed help and did not have serious health conditions. She was a senior and primarily needed care and companionship. “Elsie,” she said, “you can do it. It’s like taking care of a baby.” Well, since I have raised my children and help my sisters with theirs, that I knew how to do and I agreed to help. My friend went away for a couple of days and I took care of the patient, thinking of her as my child and giving her the care and companionship she needed. I could tell she was very appreciative and happy with how I was caring for her. When my friend moved away a few weeks later, I was offered the opportunity to be one of the patient’s caregivers. When this wonderful lady died seven months later, I decided to enroll in classes and become a certified nurse’s assistant. I loved what I was doing as a CNA and started taking classes to become a licensed practical nurse. I was in my fifties when I embarked on this positive and refreshing new career as a health care provider, doing in-home care. I liked it so much I wondered why I hadn’t gotten into the medical field earlier, like my father had suggested. I know he would be pleased with what I am doing, just as he must have been happy to give the care that is so desperately needed. A year and a half later, I was offered a job as a caregiver for a ninety-seven-year-old gentleman in Pennsylvania. The gentleman sounded like a very interesting person, so I took the job and made the move from Florida to Pennsylvania. One evening, just as I was about to start preparing dinner, the second episode of my nosebleeds started. This time, fortunately, this episode was not as severe as the first one, just a small drip of blood and it was done. I assured myself this had happened because of the cold winter weather, but I soon became aware it was happening every couple of days—my nose was dripping blood. This went on for about ten days.