Listen Up!

One of the most annoying things about me is that I talk too much. I talk TO people, AT people, OVER people. Well, not anymore. Not so much because I've finally wised up, but because I physically can't.

When I went for my chemo treatment on Monday, I coughed, panted, and wheezed through the meeting with my doctor because for once, I couldn't out-talk or out-interrupt her.

Later, as I was leaving the doctor's, I tried to ask the receptionist one simple question. She kept answering my question before I could finish asking it. Then I'd try to interrupt HER interrupting ME, but she kept talking over me and answering questions I hadn't finished asking. And the harder I tried to be heard, the more I lost my breath, then the coughing and panting took over, and I was left feeling exhausted, frustrated, defeated.

I've always been a strong verbal dueler. But now everyone has a sword and I've only got a pocketknife. What a humbling experience this is.

Note to medical folks tending to cancer patients: Please LISTEN to your patients. I know it's your job to tell us things. It's your job. It's our life. I think we should get to talk first.

Later on the same day, I had a two-hour conversation with some friends without a single coughing attack. I couldn't carry on a two-minute exchange with the receptionist at my doctor's office without gasping for breath, but I managed to have a two-hour conversation without a single attack. Why was that?

I realized later that it was because these friends are particularly good listeners. I didn't have to fight to be heard or fend off interruptions - the usual stuff lively discussions are made of. I didn't do all the talking, either - that would've made for a boring conversation for all of us. And I don't think these ladies were being unusually attentive to me because of my condition, because they've always been like this. I just never noticed or appreciated it as much as I do now.

Now is a good time for me to provide some explanation for my greatly reduced appearances. Some of you have offered to visit me, take me out to lunch, called me for chats on the phone, and I've been very reluctant. Here's why:

I can go for hours sometimes without any coughing or loss of breath. I even managed to speak to my kids at my usual decibel yesterday, calling out, "Hi there! You're home! Where's my hug?" loudly across to the other side of the house with no problem. A brief flash of my old life.

Yet it took me three hours to eat my breakfast of pureed veggie soup because every single spoonful started a coughing fit - one of them so bad that I almost vomited. All this while holding my bruised ribs in place because the Ibuprofen doesn't seem to be working so well anymore. So breakfast was yum, cough, cough, ouch, ouch, aargh. Repeat for three hours. And I thought the mouth ulcers were going to give me trouble!

I haven't been answering my phone much because several times, I've started coughing so much that the caller ended up quite alarmed about my condition, which really sounds much worse than it is.

A few days ago, I had a visitor who had to listen to me cough and gag for half an hour before we finally gave up. She probably left thinking I was at death's door.

Meanwhile, you might see me walking around the shops at Paragon, across from Mt. Elizabeth Hospital on chemo days, looking perfectly normal. Well, maybe not normal, since I'm bald and sometimes wearing a surgical mask, depending on my blood count that day. I worry that some of you whose invitations I've turned down might see me out and about and wonder why I can't meet you for lunch when I'm walking around a shopping mall and eating lunch by myself (or with chemo buddy).

I just can't predict when I'll be feeling okay and when I'll need to rest my lungs. I can't expect all my friends to hover in stand-by mode on the off chance I can fit them in for a quick chat in between doctor visits.

So that's why I've been so anti-social lately. And so much more verbose on this Blog. I'm letting my fingers do the talking.