Distant Metastasis: unfold stories of palliative care I hope all nurses are like him, humbled and belittled

as he has been, but are still able to show warm smiles on their faces and share the burdens of their patients. They might not realize it but these simple things heal more than the chemotherapy shooting to my nerves and other painful medical treatments. Waiting for the sunrise. Not all people are willing to listen to this story, not all of us have the courage to face this truth but I will still share this to you, because, this is the reality of life, the reality that no one can escape. Life is the most ironic thing that God has made, it changes every now and then, at one point in your life youre happy and suddenly all the things that you valued the most will be taken away from youin a flash of a moment. ..Then youll find yourself locked in a world thats never been yourswhere no one can understand your pain, when all you can do is cry your eyes out and scream your heart out but no one really listens.

SCORCH OF AGONY There I was sitting on hospital bed, wearing a patients gown and talking to people in white. Things are hazy; they are speaking languages I know I would never understand and all I know is that Im eighteen; Im young and healthyvibrant! I still have a life to live, friends to meet and dreams to fulfill What the hell are they saying? How can I die? No one dies at eighteen, right? You have Cancer you have cancer! These words are the only ones that play on my mind over and over on that frigid night. I cant sleep, afraid that I might not see the sun shine on me in the morning. So I stood out of my bed, and sat where I can clearly see it rising, hoping that everything I heard on this dreary night will be forgotten the moment its radiance touches my skin. I dont know how long I have been there, until I heard the creaking sound of the door, I looked back to the person that made me realize that Im still in this world. Good morning maam, he greeted me with smile on his face, I just stared at him coldly, he is about my age, may have the same pouring energy that I had before I was shut in chilly room. You cant sleep? Are you not comfortable with your bed? Do you want me to fix it for you? he asked inquiringly. What time is it? I asked not paying attention to what he said earlier. 3:00, maam he answered still with a soft smile on his face. Why dont you lie down and catch some sleep. I just dont want to sleep, I have plenty of time to sleep laterin fact, I might as well be willing to give some of it to you so that youll stop bothering me, I told him sarcastically.

Mortified as he is, he paced a few steps away from me and closed the door gently that I cant almost hear any sound from it. And by the way, you might ask if I saw that breath taking beauty of the sunrise that day, I say, it rained. The succeeding days were more terrifying than the day before; people just enter my room whenever they feel like it, people in pink give me a lot of tablets and capsules of drugs I cant even ingest, and people in white have what I have what I hate the most, syringessyringes full of odd colored drugs sometimes yellow, at times reddish pink, the colorless ones are the most painfulthat when they pushed it in my system it feels like my veins burning. But what I hate the most is the aftermath of all those drugs, when I have to abase myself and hug the icy cold ivory sink, and puke all my intestines out. And then I cry, my tears pours like the rain out of my window, it poured and drowns my heart and leaves me drenched with loneliness I never imagined. Whats even worse is that, even my privacy was taken away from meI even go and throw my trash without anyone accompanying me. I know its embarrassing, especially when you know that the person accompanying you there is not even your close friend or relative, shes just some student that is obliged to care for you or else she wont have good grades.

IN THE MIDST OF SUNRISE A few days ago, Im the vibrant young lady, confident to show the world what Im capable of. Now, Im the crying baby wearing a messy hospital gown soaked with sweat and smells like puke, with an IV catheter inserted in my vein, feeling like a prisoner, chained, deprived and cheated. In a spurt of a moment, all of the things that I valued the most were gone; I run my fingers to my hair just to see several strands on my hands. I used to have that long, black hair and everyone is envious about itnow Ill have to wear a wig to conceal the hideous look of my head. The overflowing vigor that I had was slowly drainingthis disease is sucking the life out of me and Im mad about it. Why does it have to be me? Ive been good all my life; I never even cut classes in high school! I give alms to beggars on the street; Im not much of a churchgoer but I do pray every night. Why is God giving me such horrible burden? I talk to Him every time, asking him to allay this pain, asking Him to let me live a little longer I blame everyone, Im mad at myself, furious at the world and disgusted at people working to heal me, its as if theyre not doing enough. Ive been the most stubborn patient in the ward, not answering the nurses questions, refusing oral medications but beg for pain relievers whenever I feel the crashing pain in my head. I shout whenever I want to and cry whenever I feel like it, but him, the student nurse that I embarrassed on my first night in this hospital was always there wearing that warm smile every time he enters my room. One night, as I was sitting at my favorite spot of the room, staring at the window and waiting for the sun to shine, the student nurse that I embarrassed on my first night in the hospital entered my room and stood at my back. He never uttered a wordjust stood there, behind me, patiently waiting, as if he knew what Ive been longing to see. TickTockTick.Tock...the room was so silent that all you can hear is the

ticking of the pendulum. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes to hours, its been an hour and a half and still nobodys talking. A few more minutes passed and a bright, blinding orange to yellowish light starts to grow bigger and bigger in the horizon. I looked at it, eager to see how its rays enter and scatter in that chilly room. Now I know why youre always here, sitting in front of this window he said as a matter-offactly. Would you like to tell me about your fascination about the sunrise? he asked, being friendly to me. And why do I need to tell you anything about it, will I live longer when I do? sarcastic as I am. No, but I can provide you the exact time when the sun rises, and it would benefit you because you wont have to stay there for more than three hours waiting for it to come. In that manner, you can get as much sleep as you want and youll gain as much strength as you would need it every time youre on nerves therapy. I smiled; this one surely knows how to reason out. You could tell me anything you want, Ill listenYou can curse me if you want to, Im kind of used to it. But you cant push me away but so long as you are in this hospital and you are under our care, no matter what you do to discourage us, well always be here, willing to listen to you. All of a sudden, everything that Ive done because of anger and fear flashed in my memory. He made me realize that I should stop acting as if Im dead, because Im still here, my heart is still beating, and my chest is still rising and falling. I am still okay. And unknowingly tears fell from my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. He tapped my shoulders as if saying, Cry all you want, but always remember that youre still alive, I can touch you, theres more to life than stagnation. From then on, before he leaves from his 11-7 shift, he comes to my room and reminds me the time of the sunrise; in a way he reminds me that Im still alive. He does that everydayover and over again. I know hes treating me like a child but Im starting to like the way he builds a bond between his patients.

RIPPLES OF THE RAIN I am a stagnant person, I always choose to stay under the solace of my comfort zone and what I hate the most is change. I never like adjusting to new situations but having cancer at eighteen made me understands that things do have to change for the better. It is like going to a new school, on moving away from home, you dont necessarily like it at first but when you learn to adjust youll realize that these changes occur because of a reason. I went out of the hospital as a changed person, a mature and brave young woman. I started to live normally as I could; I went back to school, go out with friends, joined organizationsliving my life as if cancer has never been inside. Gradually, I refrained from waiting for the sunrise to come, because Im alive, I know Im still alive. And if the sun will never shine on me, then I might as well look for something beautiful in the rain and make it my inspiration to live life. I learned to value my relationships with people, I learned to be thankful for the day, and I wake up every morning not thinking that death is coming near but I grateful for another opportunity to breath. Cancer never left me though; it found its way to my lymph nodes, and grew on some

unexpected areas. I started to forget how to walk, and maybe, in time Ill also forget how to express my thoughts in words. My frail body rapidly deteriorated from bad to worse. I know that I dont look the same anymore but Im not afraid because Ive had enough time to experience life. Right now, we are all traveling on a road, and all of us have the same destination, its just that, Im the one who won the race, Ill get there first before you do. Here I am, after six months of fighting, a frail little body, having a lot of wires connected to me, all everyone can hear is a loud beeping sound that is produced by the monitor that flashes a flat line on its screen. I went out of the room, and looked at my mom cryinguttering words of sorrow.

Someday mom, Ill be the one welcoming you in your heaven. Cry, but be happy, for your little girl had been glad that you raised her as a mature, strong young woman.

ODE TO MY FAREWELL NURSE It is quite empty that evening and the only thing I sense is the coolness of that every corner of concrete wall. Every nurse on the station is so hectic eventually turning to toxic mode the same as the charts and medications of the patients. All of the stuffs are the same but the only thing that is different is my room. A room with a patient who was lying on a bed diagnosed of having brain cancer. Out of ordinary ways, my room is filled with solitary hoax and desperate. My room grounded with ambiguity, frozen denial and sonnet care. As my nurse knocked and opened the door, he sees the monitor tangled up in different stroking lines, a folded curtain stitched in a kaleidoscopic image of metamorphosis and my presence. Good evening, again Maam. I need to remind you that you must not take any foods, and drinks after your meals tonight. This is to prepare you for your upcoming surgery this morning, okay?? he stated. With soft voice I said, Thank you for reminding me my nurse, I am so grateful that I met a person like you. Tonight will be a remarkable moment, thought I think this will be the end of me. I dont know what may happen next, but the doctors will sure give their best, as he caress me with hope. My nurse walked along but he does not realize that for a silence I gradually taking my senses. At around 9:00pm, my body begins to fall shortly. Here comes my nurse with his stethoscope and very fervent to take my vitals. However, I never did it. He called her instructor and reported that my blood pressure was deteriorating. He even sees that my breathing is convoluted. The student nurse together with his instructor entered the room and his instructor immediately triggered the health team. As I am on a blank mind never know what is happening and all I hear is Call a code 77 We need a crash cart in here Call a code 77 We need a crash cart in here

Call a code 77 After 30 minutes, the doctor elucidate that my brain cancer had just reach the outside circulation which is the common cog of metastasis consequently seize my life below the zenith. Just like the horizon that constantly flashing on the cardiac monitor at my bedside as cancer cells now gain access to my blood and lymphatic channels thus permits a malignant invasion until it turns to failure touching one here and there with my icy fingers. And now, I am frail. I am dying. I am dead. This better not happen. I did not deserve what destiny decides for me. My life is on thread. But it is too late. It is the reality. Does it good to die? Will there be people in white welcoming me in front of the wide gate of heaven? No one really knows, but heres what I have to say: I doesnt matter how long you lived, and how short your time here on earth had been, what matters most is how contented you were with your life and how well you truly lived. As for me, I owe some of my happiness to the nurse who reminds me of the sunrisemaking me realize that theres more to life than just sitting there and waiting for death to arrive. I hope all nurses are like him, humbled and belittled as he has been, but are still able to show warm smiles on their faces and share the burdens of their patients. They might not realize it but these simple things heal more than the chemotherapy shooting to my nerves and other painful medical treatments. And now, I am here waiting for the sunrise. Not all people are willing to listen to my story, not all of us have the courage to face this truth but I will still share this to you, because, this is the reality of life, the reality that no one can escape.*** Just like the horizon that constantly flashing on the cardiac monitor at my bedside as cancer cells now gain access to my blood and lymphatic channels thus permits a malignant invasion until it turns to failure touching one here and there with my icy fingers. And now, I am frail. I am dying. I am dead. BY: ASTO,ABRAHAM and DOLLAGA, MELISSA JOY