Elevator etiquette has certainly changed since COVID. Well, at least it has at all the places I go—Rotary House and MDA. Before, squeezing one more person on a cramped, full elevator was almost like a game of Tetris. Now, when the doors open, if there is just one person on the elevator I ask if they are ok with me getting on. I’ve only been denied admission a couple of times so far and that’s ok. This new norm of no more than four in an elevator makes for some long delays getting to your floor, but waiting is a small price to pay to keep everyone safe.
Most of these elevator rides are done in silence. Everyone at Rotary House or Mays Clinic or the main hospital where I take my elevator rides either has cancer or is there with a family member who does. We all have a lot on our plates and on our minds. Occasionally, these elevator rides have involved short, but meaningful, conversations. Once as I was going up to my room a woman commented on the gallon of water I was carrying. I told her I had immunotherapy the next day and I joked I was making sure to stay hydrated. She immediately said her mother had just been offered an immunotherapy clinical trial and they knew nothing about immunotherapy. She asked about my experience and as the elevator arrived at my floor I was able to tell her I felt it had saved my life. On another occasion, I was riding up with two strangers. As the rather cranky woman exited her floor she said “try to have a good day.” When the doors closed the man said he didn’t know how, he had just been diagnosed that day with cancer. In the short elevator ride I was able to tell him it gets better, that today was the worst day, and that I would pray for him. As he left the elevator on his floor, he thanked me for the encouragement.
Every single day, wherever we find ourselves, we have the opportunity to encourage and lift others up. “So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us do good to all people, and especially to those who belong to the family of faith.” Galatians 6:10 A smile or a kind word, a card in the mail, or a quick text message can do wonders for someone who is struggling. When my cancer journey began, Madison gave me a “Joy Box” to hold cards and letters people sent to me. It has overflowed. I have received so many cards encouraging me, letting me know I was being prayed for, simply saying I wasn’t forgotten. Many times, during the dark days of isolation, I have gone through my box to remind myself I am not alone.
I don’t know why I got cancer. It was nothing I did. It wasn’t caused by a genetic mutation passed down from my parents. It just happened. Given a choice, I would choose not to have cancer. But I can already see some good has come from it. It has certainly deepened my faith. I have seen God’s hand, His grace and mercy, all through this difficult time. He has provided, strengthened, and never left my side. My relationship with Gary has also grown closer. We recognize our time together is a gift and growing old together, while hoped for, isn’t promised. Time with family has always been important, but it has risen to a new level of priority. I want to spend every second I can with my children and grandchildren. But it’s not just about me. I know God will use what I’ve experienced, what I’ve learned as a cancer warrior to help others if I will let Him. I will look for every opportunity, every “divine appointment” to encourage others along their journey.
This past Friday I had the third of four post-surgery immunotherapy infusions. One more and I can ring the bell and be done with my cancer treatment! I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and I am looking forward to life in the after cancer sunshine. The week after my last immunotherapy in mid-November I will have my second big surgery. As a precaution, I have chosen to have a prophylactic mastectomy on my right side. I know my risk of developing cancer in my remaining breast is only slightly elevated, but any additional risk is more than I’m willing to take. This upcoming surgery will involve another mastectomy as well as beginning reconstruction. I am looking forward to having cancer behind me by Christmas!
T.S.CONLAY 