A train to parts unknown

I recall the precise moment when my daughter received her first dose of chemotherapy. I could hardly hold back my tears. I felt despair take hold of me when the reality of the situation flooded in; however, after it was all over and Natalia sat on the bed recovering I was surprised how little had appeared to change. There were no immediate bad side effects and what’s more her pain had stopped immediately.


Natalia had a smile on her face. She was happy because the pain had vanished. She still had her hair and she did not feel any urge to throw up. All of the feared symptoms of chemotherapy had not materialised and instead there was just a sense of relief that the pain had finally stopped.

My mother called me and I stepped out into the hallway to take the call. When I returned the Natalia noticed that something was not right and she asked me what was the matter. I didn’t want to give the impression that what she had endured was just a minor inconvenience and that it would soon be over but I didn’t know where to begin. How would I tell her that this first treatment was the first in a long arduous process, that she would have to endure many more sessions of chemotherapy, followed by surgeries, that from now on her life would be completely turned upside down.

I sat on the side of the bed as I did always . The room was small, it’s walls painted a uniform white. A huge set of windows overlooked an outdoor balcony. Inside there was an unoccupied bed beside Natalia’s. Except for the one television everything was furnished in pairs. There were two identical wooden cupboards, two matching stools and two adjoining bathrooms. From the outside the door to the entrance to this room resembled the door of a train carriage. When I looked at this door I imagined that it was a train. Natalia and I had boarded this train and we were now on a journey to an unknown destination I thought. In the front was the nurses’ room, the engine room. It was there that the dosages of chemotherapy were prepared. To its right was the supply room. In the rear were the doctors offices, the elevator, a kitchen, a large public bathroom and the O.R.

I found the plain white walls of the hospital depressing. Unfortunately the chief nurse, Madame Anna never permitted decorations. It was a shame really. The children would produce such beautiful and colorful artwork but there was no opportunity to see it all displayed. Those walls would have come to life had Madame Anna allowed it but they stayed anemic and plain all the time that we were there.

Madame Anna was uncompromising. She would never let anyone forget that she was the chief nurse. Cold and imperious Madame Anna found a likely ally in the chief of the dietary staff, another woman who considered herself like Madame Anna infallible. Deviations from rules were not tolerated. It made the atmosphere difficult at times. This was a place that demanded understanding. Parents here with their children facing a diagnosis of cancer could not have been more vulnerable. Any tender mercies would have been appreciated. From Monday to Fridays there were surgeries taking place in the O.R. It was chaotic at times, like when the nurses could not find a vein to attach an I.V line. Or, on the second day we were there and a patient swore out loud from the pain of rehabilitation exercises. Or, when people whooped out a cry of joy upon received positive result. When people wanted to someone to step out to buy a treat for their child from nearby store. No, always Madame Anna and her companion in arms would frown and disapprove of all these expressions of humanity. Really if one has no tolerance for passion in such circumstances perhaps they should find another profession. I thought this as I considered the first stages of our journey on this train and I searched for words explain to Natalia our new voyage.