Light In The Tunnel
Some say, the intensity of experience that occurs at age sixteen remains forever etched in our collective conscious. Perhaps it's due to the series of "firsts" we encounter at this age. Whether it's the hyper-emotions of our first relationship, the adrenaline-rush of our first cars, or the sweaty anticipation of futures wide-open, we seldom entertain a life-threatening illness just when our journey begins to flourish.
For Alex Nester, a high-school student with a cascade of blonde curls for whom a passion for singing had already yielded eight albums, sixteen was high adventure. Yet on what seemed like an ordinary day last winter, Nester suffered from nausea and complained of "tightness" in her mid-chest, which she attributed to a pulled-muscle from a hip-hop dance at school. A trip to the E.R. proved her wrong, when a doctor reported the results of an ultra-sound revealing Nester had tumors that would later be determined cancerous.
"I started to cry and pray," said Nester, who didn't then realize the critical timing of the discovery. After a series of dizzying tests failed to provide her physicians' conclusive answers, Nester was headed for major surgery.
"They were going to take me to UCLA," said Nester, "But ten minutes before I got in the ambulance, Dr. Khalil came in and said: 'Hang up the phone. We figured out what it is; you have lymphoma, not carcinoma.'"
Dr. Hany R. Khalil, a noted cancer specialist connected to the Los Robles Regional Medical Center in Thousand Oaks, and a 21-year veteran of oncology medicine, is perhaps equally known for his calming bedside manner and the compelling emotional support his office-staff provides cancer patients. Yet at the moment of diagnosis, most are not contemplating "bedside manner" or frankly ready to go to the "therapy place." To be sure, many are still tackling that irrepressible fork in the road called: ACCEPTANCE OR DENIAL.
Candy Nester, Alex' mother, sits in a kind of stunned repose when recalling her reaction: "My first thought was: Is she going to live? I just kept looking at the doctor; I wanted him to say something else -- it was surreal."
Few would argue that getting the correct diagnosis is foremost in treating a life-threatening disease, yet finding a specialist who supports the emotional needs of patients enduring the often challenging treatment phase of cancer is another matter.
"The important thing is to be honest," said Khalil, "Number two, is to be understanding of the patient. I don't believe in making anyone wait for anything. You need to treat cancer patients in a special way. That's what differentiates cancer specialists. We all have the same information -- the difference is TLC."
After a stint in the hospital, Nester began chemotherapy. "I was scared before my first session -- I did not want to go in there," said Nester, whose honeyed, child-like voice belies a keen self-assurance.
"But Denise and Cindy [at the oncology office] were always there -- they would give me hugs and say 'this is going to get better.'" Denise Seth-Hunter and Cindy Richards are part of Khalil's fervent support staff who pepper their dialogue with unabashed phrases like: "Everyone who comes in is like family," or "You share their story, they share yours." According to those interviewed, however, these are not mere words, but a philosophy in action, by a staff keenly aware that patients passing through their doors are indeed struggling for their lives.
Nester commented that at the beginning of treatment particularly, "I was tired and lived in my room for God knows how long." To combat her exhaustion and keep her spirits up, she added, "The best part was that my friends got to come with me to chemo. My boyfriend visited me everyday." Much ink has been spent on the importance of the mind/body connection for those coping with and surviving cancer. But ultimately, how important is it to address the emotions of cancer patients? For many oncologists, tackling depression head-on and helping patients to maintain a positive outlook are considered essential elements in treating the disease.
"The more positive one's mental attitude, the better the immune system appears to be in helping fight it," said The Cancer Cure Foundation. "Negative thoughts and emotions can be extremely toxic to the body's anti-cancer defense system. 'Will to live' is very important -- along with hope."
Hope indeed.
"A lot of oncology offices don't get attached to their patients. They're systematic and cold," said Nester. "If somebody who doesn't care is working on you and trying to save your life -- you don't feel hopeful. When they are genuinely concerned and care about your well-being -- that gives you the extra boost."
As to dealing with life and death every day, Richards offered, "It's great when you can say [to a patient]: 'We've done this many cycles of chemo and your tumor has shrunk. People do get better."
Yet Nester was cautious not to create a falsely-cheerful picture of treatment, detailing her mood-swings, depression and the dreaded day she had to cut her distinctive curls.
"I kept my hair," Nester confides, as though her locks were a treasured link to better days.
As to imminent plans to return to singing, Nester brightened, "I plan to do a show with my group, regardless of how much hair I actually have -- with no wig! My hair symbolizes what I've been through." (Nester records and sings with a group called, "Knockout.")
Perhaps not surprisingly, Nester offered that the first song she wrote with her producer after undergoing treatment is called: "I've Been Through It All."
Like an embattled soldier, Nester turns and says, "I am not saying it's easy, but I am also not saying it's impossible. There are times when just getting up to face a new day is extremely difficult -- but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. No matter what happens, there is always hope."
Alex Nester, now 17, tested "cancer-free" on all scans upon completion of chemotherapy treatment on June 18, 2001.
She is now in the process of recording her first solo album.
