by Tilly Davies
We arrived there on time but she had to fill in a form that took almost 10 minutes to fill out. We were all nervous and quiet feeling like cattle at slaughter. Knowing what to expect didn’t make it easier.
Finally she was sitting comfortably in a green ‘lazyboy’ chair in a room filled with very sick people. An elderly women sitting across from my sister was chatty and told me that it is very ‘nice’ of me to support my mother. I felt stupid when I explained that she was my sister hoping that my sister will not be offended. Then she referred to my sister’s husband as our father and once again I had to correct her. My sister’s husband was standing around not knowing what to do with himself.
What felt like an eternity the oncology sister came with a pink box wrapped with a bow and a tray filled with intravenous bags. Methodically she explained the contents of the box; there is ginger tea for nausea, some ointment (I forgot the name) for headaches, gloves for when she lose her nails….. My sister interrupted with big scary eyes “My nails?” The sister explained that there is a slight change that she might lose her nails. “And my hair?” my sister was unsettled. “All of it, head, eyebrows, eyelashes all within 21 days” the sister explained. My sister laid back and exposed the port that was inserted earlier in her shoulder. She closed her eyes for a moment and then turned her head and looked at me. “I never thought I will ever be back here again” she said with tears in her eyes. She abruptly laid back and indicated that she needed time to herself.
The oncology sister started the procedure and reminded me of our gardener. Everything is done in a routine that is embedded by years of practice. Nothing left to do I thought and followed my sister’s husband example by picking up a magazine. Restless I paged through the magazine, that I would not normally read, not reading a word. My sister’s husband chuckled every now and then when he read something funny. We both would just stare at him every time but neither of us said a word.
Then he caught my attention and I was alert. “Look at this” he said proudly to my sister. He showed her an article he just found. “Antioxidant a myth” the headline read. My sister asked what it was all about but he opinioned that it proves the point and not worth reading. Knowing what I do she looked at me apologetically but I just shook my head indicating that it does not worry me. He is going deaf and to argue the point would mean that I would have to raise my voice and that was not the place.
Her husband made an excuse and got up while frantically searching his pockets for his cigarettes. I watched him as he walked away. The oxidative stress on his skin clearly visible; the discolouring, premature wrinkles, age spots were all standing out suddenly. He looked like a very old man much older than somebody in his early sixties. He too is sickly and also adds to his health CV a couple of major operations.
That evening when I got home I looked at my ‘antioxidants’. I fondly took my Multivitamin and Cell Activator and took two each – I missed it this afternoon I thought. What about the shake, I wondered, it is supper time. “Agh what the heck my body needs it.” I said to my grandson as I lovingly picked him up.
The day’s events washed over me and I know that I surely cannot cure but I can certainly prevent. I am an antioxidant believer – and my skin, my health, my energy, my life is evident thereof.
