Chester Freeman is a retired college and hospital chaplain. He is also a teddy bear artist whose creations are highly collectible. He travels and lectures on the therapeutic value of teddy bears. He is the author of a children’s book 

Pelican Publishing, 1993). He collaborated with the Children’s Theatre Department at East Carolina University(Greenville, NC) to turn his book into a full-scale production which premiered at ECU. Chester has received diagnoses for bladder cancer and chronic lymphocytic leukemia. 

Chester Freeman

Chester Freeman was diagnosed with bladder cancer and most recently with chronic lymphocytic leukemia (CLL). Read 

When I feel OK and have recovered sufficiently from the chemotherapy treatments for my chronic lymphocytic leukemia, I want to do normal things. So, recently, I was feeling well enough and decided to go to an estate sale. Numbers for the sale were set to be distributed at 8 a.m., so I thought it best to arrive before 7 a.m.

I didn’t want to park directly in front of the house where the sale was taking place, so I parked in front of the neighbor’s house. While sitting in my car, I noticed the neighbor bringing out his garbage cans. Nothing unusual about that. However, he came back outside with his cell phone and began to take a video of my car, with me sitting inside, as well as my license plate. At first, I didn’t realize what was happening but then when he pointed the camera right in front of me, I thought to myself, “What should I do?”

My first instinct was to exit the car and tell him that I was there early for an estate sale. But then, I thought this might escalate the situation. And since I was holding my cell phone in my hand, he may have thought it was a gun and would call the police on me.

He was White and I am Black, so sitting in a predominately White neighborhood in the early morning hours implied my guilt simply because of the color of my skin. I was frightened and fearful.

Thinking further, I decided it would be best to just continue reading the meditation on my cell phone. Finally, after about twenty minutes of documenting my face, my car, my exact location outside his house, he went inside and then soon left for work. I figured the likelihood that I would ever return to that neighborhood would be rare, so maybe I could breathe a sigh of relief.

He couldn’t have known there was an estate sale because, in this area, exclusive neighborhoods don’t allow the agents to put up signs until right before the sale opens. So, I could understand his uneasiness about my presence.

When I got home, I found an email from a friend with a poem that she and her husband composed for me. It read as follows:

After reading their poem, I felt very much loved. Their words were so profound, especially because they had no idea how fraught with fear my path was, just going outside for a fun day trip.

For the past few weeks, I’ve been cherishing the life I have and thinking that, if my life is taken away, I’m ready. I don’t have the fear of death I had in the past. I believe I can accept whatever time I have and be grateful for each moment.

It amazes me how much friends really do affect my life. They can be as powerful as an exploding bomb, but they have goodness radiating from them instead of destruction. The poem I received healed me. It healed my heart. It healed my soul.

Cancer tends to put me in an emotional state, full of uncertainty. But this poem showed me that love is all-powerful. Love protects, love trusts, love hopes, love perseveres. Love protected me while I was sitting in my car. The love of friends surrounds me. Friends continue to support me, delivering meals, sending cards, bringing flowers and sending emails.

It’s funny how things can “change on a dime,” as the expression goes. This afternoon, I went to the grocery store to pick up my insulin at the pharmacy. And as part of my exercise for the day, I decided to park in the second lot so I’d have to walk a little distance to get to the store and back. When I was finished and approached my car with insulin in hand, I noticed the security police car flashing lights off to the side of my car. As I neared the policeman, I said hello to him.

He returned my greeting with a wave and a big smile. What a difference a day makes! Yesterday, merely sitting in my car posed an unwarranted threat to a man in his yard. Today, I encountered a friendly policeman who didn’t see me as a threat, but as a grocery shopper, carrying medicine in my bag.

When I went to the appointment with my oncologist, she wanted me to have lab work done but because of some problem in the lab, I had to go back to my home area to have my blood work completed. Afterward, I waited anxiously near my computer for the results in “My Chart.” The results arrived around 8 p.m. and I saw that my platelet count was still low, although it remained at the same level. I will view this with grace and be thankful that the count didn’t decrease any further, which would have put me in a very dangerous position. So, the oncologist will continue my chemotherapy treatments, hoping that my platelet count will increase.

In talking with my oncologist, I learned something new. I told her I went to my local pharmacy and had the flu vaccine and the new COVID-19 vaccine. She advised that those vaccines would lower my platelet count. I had no idea that would happen! She said she understood that I received the vaccines because I wanted to protect myself. Normally, I would have consulted her first, but since I was so anxious about being immunocompromised, I wanted to do whatever I could to be proactive about my health care. As it turned out, the vaccines didn’t change my platelet count. It seems I’m lucky this time, but I’ve learned an important lesson.

At this office visit, I learned another lesson. When the nurse took my blood pressure, it was very low. Since she’d worked with me for weeks, she knew this wasn’t normal. I asked her what might account for this change. She attributed possible causes to dehydration or an issue with the blood pressure cuff. I told her that I’m very faithful about drinking eight glasses of water every day. So, she wanted to take my blood pressure again. She advised that the size of the cuff could be an issue and that the cuff she used on me was too big. When she attached a smaller cuff, she took my blood pressure again and that time, she got a normal reading.

She taught me to be aware that it’s important to check the blood pressure cuff to ensure it’s appropriate for my arm size. If I see that the size is wrong, I need to call it to the nurse’s attention.

They’re so accustomed to using whatever cuff is on the machine that they often forget that each person is different, and they must use the appropriate cuff to accommodate each patient’s needs.

, I mentioned I knew I shouldn’t cross my legs when my blood pressure is checked because it distorts the reading. Crossing my legs seems to be a natural tendency for me when I’m sitting in the doctor’s office. But I’ve trained myself not to do that. Now, my behavior has changed and both feet always remain on the ground.

So, as I continue on this journey, I keep hope in my heart, yet I always want to be sure I’m facing the reality of my situation. And I always want to be sure I’m keeping both feet planted firmly on the ground, either in the cancer center or firmly on the floor of my car while I read my morning meditations.

1. The importance of support from friends during chemotherapy contributed to my emotional well-being.

2. I learned that vaccinations could have a detrimental effect on platelet count.

3. I learned that having the right size blood pressure cuff is important since it can alter your reading.

For more news on cancer updates, research and education, don’t forget to 

Articles

Navigating life with chronic lymphocytic leukemia involves balancing medical treatments and personal experiences. Support from friends plays a crucial role in emotional resilience, as demonstrated by a heartfelt poem that provided comfort during a distressing encounter. Medical insights, such as the impact of vaccinations on platelet count and the importance of using the correct blood pressure cuff size, highlight the need for proactive healthcare management. Despite challenges, maintaining hope and gratitude remains essential, underscoring the significance of both emotional and physical well-being in the cancer journey.

As a patient with chronic lymphocytic leukemia, I recently gleaned three new insights from my oncologist and phlebotomist. 

The Pathway of Cancer is Fraught with Anxiety 

It is hard to keep up with all the cancer research. As patients, we try to read as much as possible about the latest trends, but we can’t know everything. Recently, I wrote about my being cold in the treatment room for my intravenous infusions for chronic lymphocytic leukemia (CLL). A friend of mine responded by gifting me with a special chemo jacket. She told me that one of her high school classmates was diagnosed with cancer and he struggled with being cold. He decided that he would create something that made him look “normal.”

So he designed a beautiful coat that had special zippers, which were strategically placed for ports and other devices during chemotherapy treatments. After much trial and error, he perfected the jacket and eventually a company was founded. What he liked most about his creation was that it was made out of great material (microfleece) and it had a handsome look to it. No one could tell that this would be used for chemotherapy. It appeared like a nice sporty jacket. Just being able to wear that made him feel better about himself. I must say that this has happened to me as well. When I put it on, I was excited and thrilled that it fit perfectly and looked “normal.” Sometimes we need things like this to help us as we deal with the other issues we are confronting.

In my most recent journal entry about the effects of radiation and 

, another friend responded with some help. She told me about a small red berry

which seems to help restore taste buds for a period of time and allows

individuals who are undergoing chemotherapy and radiation to enjoy their food.

It is called a miracle fruit because of the effect that it brings to patients with cancer.

This is considered a dietary supplement and is being recognized by many cancer centers. This is a result of neuroscience research, which is taking place and continues as the supplement brings great joy to patients. I have ordered some for my partner and look forward to seeing a smile on his face! He is receiving treatment for prostate cancer and his taste buds have not fully recovered yet.

There are so many advancements in the field of cancer treatment. I am so grateful that I have friends who are always looking out for me and finding things that might make my cancer journey a bit easier. These two friends have provided me with resources, which will help not only me but my partner and others as well.

Good friends will do everything within their power to help those who they love.

They too will listen to the latest reports, search out dietary supplements as well as clothing that make life easier for us patients with cancer. As the song says, that’s what friends are for.

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Cancer patients often struggle to keep up with the latest research and trends. A patient with chronic lymphocytic leukemia received a specially designed chemo jacket from a friend, which helped him feel more "normal" during treatments. Another friend recommended a dietary supplement called miracle fruit, which helps restore taste buds affected by chemotherapy and radiation. These personal stories highlight the importance of supportive friends who seek out resources to ease the cancer journey. Such innovations and support can significantly improve the quality of life for cancer patients.

Two dear friends have introduced helpful items to me, such as a chemo jacket since I became cold in the treatment room.

Good Friends Make the Cancer Journey a Bit Easier

Not all chemotherapy is by infusion. There are also oral chemotherapies.

That is what my oncologist is having me do for the next two weeks.

We stopped the intravenous infusions, which gave me a break from that experience. There is an expression we commonly use in our casual conversations that goes something like “Take the bitter and the sweet,” or “That was a bitter pill to swallow.”

Well, I am here to tell you that I am taking a bitter chemotherapy pill! As soon as it touches my tongue, my face begins to cringe. There is also a misguiding assumption that we can taste certain things better in different places on our tongue, but that is untrue. We can taste everything on all parts of our tongue. There are five types of taste buds (bitter, sweet, sour, salty and savory) and mine are working just fine. However, that is not true for my spouse. He has metastatic prostate cancer and went through target-specific radiation and his taste buds have not recovered yet. I have learned that everyone reacts differently to changes in the taste buds with radiation therapy.

For some people, they can recover as quickly as two months but for others, it can take up to two years or more. Unfortunately, my spouse is one of the latter. He went to the local farmer’s market and purchased some fresh raspberry and peach homemade jam. When he got home, he realized he could not taste it. When I put some of the jam on my toast with butter the flavor was subtle but good. I could clearly taste the peach and raspberry flavor. He has been noticing this side effectmore and more as we eat fresh fruits and vegetables. It is frustrating when you like something and can’t taste it. So I try to empathize with him.

The bitter pill that I take has to be taken with food. There is no wonder about that issue. Normally I take this pill first thing in the morning.

Catch up on Chester's previous journal entries here:

A Caring Oncologist and the Power of Prayerful Friends

Accepting the Good and Bad During Chemotherapy

The Anxieties I Face Before Chemo Treatments for CLL

So, I have been making my breakfast with cereal and fresh fruit. I am rotating each day with fresh strawberries, peaches and blueberries. Now, I fill my stomach with cereal and fruit and then take the bitter pill with a slice of peach or a strawberry. That makes it tolerable. But there are a few occasions when it slips on my tongue, and I can immediately taste the bitterness blasting through my mouth! I am learning to take the bitter and the sweet in my mouth and in my life! It is the only way that we can get through our trials and tribulations. We have to accept the good and the bad. We have to embrace the positive and the negative.

We have to accept the happy times and the sad times. The bottom line is we must embrace the life we have been given. All we can do is try to find the balance in our life and be as resilient as possible. We have to strive for a positive outcome in our treatment and put up with the bitter pill!

Oral chemotherapy offers an alternative to intravenous infusions, but it can present its own challenges, such as unpleasant taste. Taste alterations are common side effects of cancer treatments, with recovery times varying significantly among individuals. The narrative highlights the importance of resilience and finding balance amidst the challenges of cancer treatment. It emphasizes the need to accept both positive and negative experiences, striving for a positive outcome despite the difficulties. The story underscores the shared journey of patients and their loved ones in navigating cancer's complexities.

I’ve recently started on chemotherapy pills instead of infusions and the bitterness reminds me to accept not only the bitterness of the pill, but in life too.  

 My Bitter Chemotherapy Pills for Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia 

Before receiving a chemotherapy infusion for CLL, Chester took note of how even just a smile can mean much more between patients with cancer.

Having chemotherapy for my chronic lymphocytic leukemia is like walking on a pond of ice. I feel like I’m always wondering if and when it’s going to crack. Every time I check in with the receptionist and the nurse calls my name, I wonder, will my blood pressure be in a good range? I’ve learned to keep both legs on the ground and not to cross them. Will my temperature be normal? What will my blood chemistry reveal today? I’ve learned to wear a short-sleeved shirt even though the room is cold. Have I lost more weight? I’ve learned to check my weight at home before going to the cancer center, so I can compare it with the weight on their scale. Usually, their scale is right on target with mine. All these concerns are lingering in my head, like the cloud over Charlie Brown.

Having some anxiety is normal. It’s part of the package. I live with it. I deal with it.

As I sit in the waiting room, I notice that everyone looks different. Some people look strong and energetic, appearing as if nothing is wrong. Others look like ghosts, an image of themselves so fragile, as if one push will break them in half like a glass bowl. That’s the ironic thing about cancer. One can look normal to others and no one else knows the pain that’s going on inside. Having support is the only way to get through this ordeal. And sometimes that support can come from a stranger. There is an uncanny bond that all of us experience in the waiting room. When we smile at each other, we’re saying more than a friendly hello. We’re saying, “I see you. I know what you’re going through. We’re in this together. We’re all afraid, anxious and unsettled, but we soldier on, as if we’re on the battlefield.”

Sometimes the battlefield presents surprises. Yesterday, the doorbell rang and I wondered who it could be. It was a delivery man with a beautiful arrangement of roses, carnations, mums, ferns and baby’s breath! It was such a shock! But it was a good shock! It was so elegantly wrapped with black and gold tissue paper surrounding the flowers. I couldn’t wait to look at the card to see who had sent them. “Wow!” I said to myself. The card had all the names of the family members listed. I was so touched!

I immediately sent a text and photo to thank them. Surprises are great because they catch me off guard. They tell me that others are thinking of me. It really brightened my evening and made me feel loved and cherished. “That’s what friends are for” as the song goes.

Oh, I can hear Dionne Warwick singing that song over and over again in my head.It never fails to move me when I hear it. And now it touches me in a profound way.

I guess men don’t receive flowers very often. So, when we do, it really conveys a deep message of support and love. Maybe I just have a soft spot for flowers in my life. To me, they say much more than “I care.” For me, they say the resources of the ground have been used to bring about beauty. They say the earth is productive and brings forth grace and charm. They say each petal is a gift of elegance from a power far greater than myself.They say we are one with them. We are all one with the natural environment. Just as the flower petals drop, so do we drop our petals of tears, loss and pain. We too, reach the core of our being. We find the strength to continue to hold on.

A flower allows us to see our connection between the spiritual and the sacred. It increases our spiritual awareness so that it becomes deep and transformative. You may have experienced this when you smell a peony or Asiatic lily. For me, it seems as if the fragrance could transport me into another spiritual realm. It takes me out of myself, just like looking up at the stars in the sky on a clear night!

So where do I stand today, from a psychological, physical and spiritual point of view?I’m happy to report that 

. Not a lot. It went from 30 to 37, but at least it gives me hope. My oncologist has decided to stop the infusions and asked me to return in two weeks.

She said sometimes it takes a while before the effect of the infusion can be seen. So, she wants to have more blood work done in two weeks. If it’s not good at that point, my oncologist said she has a plan B, which we briefly reviewed.

The infusion went much better this time, except my arm was ice cold. It was the arm where the chemo was being infused. The nurse put a warm blanket on my arm to keep it from freezing and it helped a lot. Emotionally, I am much better. I feel calmer, knowing that my body has taken a baby step and that maybe it will take more baby steps in the future. My spirits are good because I have faith that things will get better. I have faith in my oncologist, who is helping me. I have faith in the nurses, who take care of me. I have faith in my friends, who encourage me by sending cards, flowers and making meals. Thanks to another friend for making a meal for me this evening. I have faith in Spirit…whatever you choose to call it… the Divine Source. Faith, hope and love are all I need to help me get through this journey.

This post was written and submitted by Chester Freeman. The article reflects the views of Freeman and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.

As I visit the cancer center for chemotherapy to treat my CLL, I can’t help but take note of how different cancer may look in each person.

Chester Freeman

The Pathway of Cancer is Fraught with Anxiety

Good Friends Make the Cancer Journey a Bit Easier

My Bitter Chemotherapy Pills for Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia

The Anxieties I Face Before Chemo Treatments for CLL

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