HUNTSVILLE, Ala. _ October is National Cancer Awareness Month. I remember that commemoration especially the past couple of years because it is the month in which my beautiful and vivacious mother died of multiple myeloma. She was only 60.
You probably have heard a lot about cancer in the past few weeks with the Cancer Awareness promotion blitz in the media. There are lots of people who have suffered from this multi-faceted disease. There are those who suffer with cancer and those of us who have had to watch someone we love suffer.
What you may not have heard is how fortunate we are in North Alabama to have such good health care professionals who battle this disease daily. It takes someone extraordinary to work in the oncology field. It takes more than just training or intelligence; it takes a special calling from God. This was never more evident to me than the first visit to the doctor after we got the diagnosis.
My mother was blessed to have Dr. Ali Hachem and his staff at the Cancer Center in Huntsville. From day one, Dr. Hachem fought alongside us, educating, discussion options, and - most of all - showing compassion toward us.
He treated my mother as he would have treated his own mother, and she grew to love him as a son. We said we wanted to fight cancer hard. He worked with us, never giving up, and he never let us give up.
As good as Dr. Hachem is, multiple myeloma is evil. It is an incurable disease. But, most times it is controllable for a while. My mother was a rare case in that she did not have the enzyme that helped to monitor how the cancer was progressing. She did not respond well to the conventional treatment and her stem cell transplant was unsuccessful, but she fought as hard as anyone I have ever known.
The nurses and staff at the Cancer Center have compassion beyond comprehension. In a field that takes so much out of caregivers, they have found ways to put even more back into it.
In all the months we went there, I never once heard any caregiver complain about anything - not about being tired, not about their work being all consuming, nothing. They were always upbeat and positive, even when they knew there was little to be positive about.
I will never forget the day we got the diagnosis. I sent my mom and dad out to the car while I made the next appointment and paid the bill. I stood at the reception desk, crying. I rarely cry and did not want my parents to see me that way. I looked up at the secretary,
Wanda Love, and asked, "When does the crying stop?" She got up from the desk, came around to where I was and gave me the most-needed hug I have ever had. She didn't say anything except, "It'll get better."
She knew that sometimes words just don't mean much. I cannot tell you how much Ms. Love's compassion for me at that worst moment in my life helped. To this day, I still think it was the most needed hug I have ever received.
It may have seemed like a small act to her, but to me it was a very precious gift. This woman did not know me, yet she helped me more in that one kind gesture than I can ever put into words.
I have referred several times to "we" fought the cancer. If you have ever gone through this devastating time with a loved one, you know it is a journey you take together. You take every step, plan every move, and throw every punch against the cancer monster together.
There was a poem I found that helped me.
Cancer is limited.
It cannot cripple love.
It cannot shatter hope.
It cannot corrode faith.
It cannot destroy peace.
It cannot kill friendship.
It cannot suppress memories.
It cannot silence courage.
It cannot invade the soul.
It cannot steal eternal life.
It cannot conquer the spirit.
Author unknown.
October is Cancer Awareness month. Remember the fight.
Paula Phillips is a Times community columnist for 2009.