Page 1 of A Cancer's Embrace
Amina Anderson
This right here was whyI longed to have a man at home waiting on me. My feet ached as I sat down in the chair in the break room for the first time today. A nice foot rub would be nice when I got off, but unless I did it myself, that wouldn’t happen. I didn’t have a man at home to do those things for me. My love life didn’t exist. After experiencing devastating heartbreak and having a busy career, I could only daydream about the love I wanted. For now, I would continue to deal with the achy feet.
This came with the responsibilities of being a nurse, especially an oncology nurse. It was only noon on a Tuesday, and between filling out paperwork, conducting patient assessments,and administering medication, I was already exhausted. My body screamed for a pick-me-up. I pulled my lunch from my lunchbox, hoping the food I had made would give me some energy.
The structure of the unit was unorganized. The new charge nurse was unfamiliar with his responsibilities. They hired him for the job because of connections. It pained me to know that all it took was for someone to know someone to run an entire unit. The annoyance I felt every day, knowing I had lost the position to him, made my skin hot. I enjoyed my job, but it sucked coming to work and dealing with him.
I continued to shove the food in my mouth quickly because our lunches were known for being interrupted, whether it was for a patient or because of the charge nurse. As soon as I shoved the chip in my mouth, the door to the break room flew open. My eyes darted to the door. Patrick stood there with his arms folded, looking me up and down. The charge nurse, Patrick, was a pain in my ass. His black hair was stuck to his forehead from sweat, and his face was bright red. The once well put-together scrubs were disheveled, and his shoestrings were untied. He never knew what was going on in the hospital. If it weren’t for me, he would’ve failed a long time ago. I was the reason the unit stayed afloat, but he refused to acknowledge it.
“Amina, is it time for you to take lunch?”
My mouth was full of food, so all I could do was nod.
“I don’t think I sent anyone to lunch. You can’t just make your own lunch schedule. That’s not how things work,” he fussed.
After swallowing my food, I spoke. “Remember the chart you made? You laid out our lunches because people are complaining about not being able to take a decent lunch.”
He scratched his head. “Oh, yeah. I forgot. It’s just so much going on. You know how it is to be needed in a million places at once.”
All I did was nod. Patrick’s job wasn’t a good fit for him. He spent most of the time gossiping and bragging about his latest dating adventure from one of his apps. I couldn’t help but envy him for having my dream job.
“But if you don’t mind, can you cut your lunch short? We’re swamped, and the only person who can administer meds properly and accurately is you.”
I internally cursed Patrick, but I placed my food back into my lunch bag. Patrick didn’t bother to say thank you. He waltzed out of the room as if he had done his big one. As I made my way back onto the floor, I noticed things weren’t as chaotic as Patrick said. Everything would’ve been an easy fix if he had helped. All he wanted to do was sit in his office and swipe.
I gathered all my items and began my rounds. I ensured that every patient I saw was treated with love and care, despite my annoyance.
When I chose the oncology route, I knew what I was getting myself into. I’d witnessed the effects of cancer, not just on the person but on family members as well. After high school, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was hard to witness firsthand the suffering my mom went through, and there was nothing I could do. The pain and sickness she endured from chemo took a toll on her mentally and physically. She went into remission for a few years after undergoing chemotherapy. She was there to see me graduate with my BSN and get my first nursing job. However, two years ago, her cancer returned, and it was even more aggressive than before. I begged her to fight and go through chemo again, but she made the choice to live in the moment. Eight months after the return of her cancer, she lost her battle.
My mom left behind my two older siblings, Danita and Gio, and me. Danita handled our mother’s death a lot better. She cried her fair share of tears, but she was able to continue her life as if nothing had happened. Gio went back to the military immediately, while I spent months in a dark place mourning our mom. I still had not found my way completely out of it yet. The only thing that helped me was working on the cancer unit. Even though everyone’s battle differed from my mom’s, I felt a sense of closeness to her while working with patients. I’d even grown to know the patient’s family members. Every day when I clocked in, I felt I was making a difference. I saw my mother in a lot of the patients, yet it was getting harder and harder each day to deal with the chaos.
By the time I finished my shift, my feet ached more, and my body was exhausted. Due to the unorganized work schedule, I worked two extra hours. Before Patrick could assign me any more tasks for the night, I ducked and dodged him to get out of the hospital.
The sun had set, and the majority of the cars that had filled the parking lot earlier were gone. A slight breeze filled the air, causing me to pull my jacket tighter to combat the chill. Once I reached my car, I pulled out my phone to order takeout for dinner. After the day I had, I didn’t have the energy to cook, so I decided on a family-sized spaghetti from a local mom-and-pop Italian restaurant. It was just enough food for leftovers tomorrow. The plan was to go home, take a bath, eat, and sleep. That had become my daily routine for the past two years, outside of having dinner with my sister every two weeks. Ninety percent of my life revolved around work, and I was okay with that.
Traffic was building. However, I was still able to flow in and out of it. People were getting off work, heading home, or going to some sort of after-work activities. My co-workers would always go out for happy hour, but I would get in my car and go home.I didn’t want to socialize with coworkers after work, especially Patrick. I just wanted peace and quiet.
Fifteen minutes later, I had arrived to pick up my food. I walked into the restaurant, hoping I didn’t have to wait. However, once inside, I saw how busy it was, and my hopes were dashed. A young red-haired girl at the door greeted me with a smile.
“Dining in?” she asked with a grin.
I shook my head. “Pick up.”
“What’s the name on the order?”
“Anderson... Amina Anderson.”
She smiled. “Okay. If you give me a couple of minutes, I’ll go get that for you.”
She sped off toward the kitchen, and I stepped to the side to let the people behind me go next. While I waited, I took in the restaurant’s view more. A pang of hurt and jealousy washed over me as I admired the families sitting together, sharing a beautiful meal. I smiled at the many tables of couples who shared a glass of wine. I longed for that type of life. However, it wasn’t in the cards dealt to me at the moment. Between work and the fear of getting back out there, I didn’t expect to experience it. A minute later, the host returned with bags in her hand.
“I placed cheese, silverware, and napkins in the bag. May I get you anything else?”
“No. Thank you.”
She smiled big. “I hope you and your family enjoy and have a great night.”
I wanted to scream out that all of this food was for me. I had an older sister, who lived her own life, and a brother in the military, who was currently across the seas. Then, to top it off, I had a deceased mother. I had no family. I didn’t even have a love life. But I smiled.
