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 

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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Articles

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.

Spending time in the morning to enjoy the view of flowers helps motivate Chester before receiving chemotherapy. 

One of the joys I experience every morning when I wake up is seeing the flowers in my neighbor’s gardens. There are beautiful rhododendrons, hydrangeas, iris, lavender, daylilies, coneflowers, roses and many others. And before these flowers appeared, there were fragrant lilacs and peonies! Being able to smell the fresh scent of the flowers was an extra bonus last month. I said to myself, “If you have to be traveling to chemotherapy, there’s nothing better than being able to look out of the car window and see the magnificent array of flowers to delight my heart. If that doesn’t put a smile on my face, I don’t know what will!”I love flowers and they have always touched my soul deeply! I’m sure I developed that love from working with my maternal grandmother in her flower garden as a little boy.

The other thing about going to chemotherapy for my chronic lymphocytic leukemia is being greeted by the receptionist, nurse and phlebotomist. On my last visit, I noticed a man bringing in a flower arrangement with his wife. I heard her ask her husband, “Is she here?” He said, “Yes.” Then he approached the receptionist and presented her with a flower arrangement. She was surprised and deeply moved by his gesture. I said to myself that the flowers must be a tribute to her for her positive attitude, patience, and compassion when dealing with patients because those are the attributes I had observed in her myself. When I finished my chemo and checked out, I noticed another man following me. He spent about a half hour talking with her, sharing his cancer journey. I watched as she listened attentively and responded with concern and empathy. This confirmed my thinking about her receiving the flowers earlier from a patient.

Little things like this get us through the day. All of us want to have someone to talk to and sometimes the receptionist is the only person able to lend an ear. This is why I write to share my journey with you, so you can be a part of my experience. I hope you can feel what I feel, and if I have joy and hope, I want to impart those feelings to you. One of my friends told me to pray for others when I feel pain. That’s what I do. So, these reflections are my prayer for you to be inspired, to share my gratitude and to rejoice with me.

Another joy I want to share is my discovery of a Good Will Store in the city. I was finally able to get some clothes that fit me. Now, I don’t look like a baggy old man. I have clothes that fit me! Yay! I look normal

So, how are things with me? It appears I spoke too soon about not needing insulin. Yesterday, my primary physician told me that one side effect of chemotherapy would be to increase in my blood glucose levels.

Unfortunately, it has reached such a dangerous level that I must inject myself with insulin. Yuck! I really didn’t want to get to this point!

Second, I’ve been taking Ozempic (semaglutide), which has taken a toll on me regarding my weight loss, so my primary care physician is changing Ozempic to Trulicity (dulaglutide). He says this medication will help lower my blood glucose level. However, Trulicity also has a side effect of decreasing my appetite, along with causing me to feel tired and weak. According to my oncologist, all this was possible at the beginning of treatment. We just didn’t expect it so soon. Everything seems compounded at this point.

My primary care physician said I could eat more to put on weight. Yay! He said my white blood cell count is improving at a snail’s pace, but at least it is happening. My red blood cell count has normalized. I am happy about all of these changes.

The bad news is that my platelet count went down. It is now back to 30.So, the doctor is adjusting my medication. We are between a rock and a hard place. The medicine that is helping me is also hurting my blood glucose level. So, now I have to walk a delicate balance. The medication is being adjusted, so we will see what happens.

This was not a good day! My blood pressure was low. Normally, I am fine because I always meditate before they take my blood pressure. I got dizzy on my way to the bathroom and the nurse had to support me. It was a terrible day! The nurse who put in my IV had to take it out after a while because my arm started to swell. She tried again but decided to get another nurse to put in the IV. We switched from my left arm, where I normally had the IV, to the right arm. The new nurse was very careful and got this one in OK. I have great veins but she wasn’t able to use the upper part of my arm because they had just taken blood from that area. So, she used a vein on the top of my right hand. I hate when they have to insert the IV there because it is always a painful position to have an IV tube. But I dealt with it and let it be.

I am disappointed and frustrated, but I soldier on. I will hope for better

results next time with the changes that have been made. Life is all about

One of the members of my Quaker community brought dinner for us tonight. It was delicious and a great way to end the horrible day. My heart is filled with gratitude for my friends.

During chemotherapy for my chronic lymphocytic leukemia, I try my best to appreciate the positive aspects of life, like flowers and friends.

Chester Freeman

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

Accepting the Good and Bad During Chemotherapy

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