30 TCHOTCHKES
When a little nothing means a lot
A diagnosis of cancer for most of us brings doom and gloom to our doorsteps. And when chemo and radiation are added to the mix, well, it is hard to know how to respond, especially when it involves a friend, colleague, family member or other loved one. What can you do? What do you say? For most of us, we are at a loss.
Well, I come from a large family. I have six brothers and sisters, various in-laws, a mother and father, and nine nieces and nephews. Ours is a family whose members are very independent and stubborn, but very creative—and always coming up with new ways to somehow bring the array of very diverse and strong personalities together during critical times. When I got cancer, it was one of those times.
It was my middle sister (the nurse) who helped orchestrate their sending me a box of "30 Pieces of Tchotchkes," individually wrapped "little nothings" (in Yiddish), contributed by young and old, each numbered to be opened on a specific day during my 30 days of radiation treatment.
What a riot! To say that I looked forward to unwrapping these treasures is an understatement! I admittedly was a little disappointed that there were no treatments on the weekends and holidays, because it meant my remaining gifts stayed unopened that much longer. (Now how's that for maintaining positive thinking!)
And what did I find tucked away in the midst of all sorts of recycled wrapping paper? Herbal teas, pink socks, a candied cell phone, angels (of course) in all sorts of shapes, The Best of Barry Manilow and Olivia Newton-John CDs, Silly Putty, a bobble-head doll, a great funky ring to wear to treatment, new candles, mint cocoa, crystals, ornaments for next year's Christmas tree, all sorts of special chocolate candy.... From day to day, I never knew what else lay in the yet-to-be-opened packages.
This has been quite a gift, this collection of "nothings." It has helped me through this challenging journey, reminding me every day that, despite it all, there were spirits there beside me to bring me smiles, positive expectations, love and support, each in its own unique way.
I am happy now that this part of my treatment has ended; but, in all honesty, I will miss opening my nightly little "tchotchke" packages. And, you know what, that is the only thing that I am sure will remain vividly in my memory long after this challenging time. And for that I will be forever grateful.