Podluck

Among the various activities that make up the healing matrix here at Loma Linda, one of my favorites is the weekly proton potluck (or, as one patient renamed it, "Podluck") that takes place in the Loma Linda Springs meeting room each Tuesday evening.

The Springs provides the place, and Radiology's Patient Support Services encourage attendance, but beyond that, the potluck is a totally volunteer activity organized and maintained by the patients. Since new patients constantly arrive and others graduate, there's frequent turn-over. In my time here, we've had 3 emcees—one the mayor of Homer, Alaska, one an actor from Tucson, and the present one, Kent, a pastor from Virginia. I recently came to be in charge of setting up and striking the P-A system, but will be passing that light duty on to another in a couple weeks. Several wives of patients set up the food—all donated by participants in true, haphazard potluck fashion—some patients set up tables, purchase water, set out the wine, and so on.

During the potluck itself, there are jokes, announcements, and lots of conversation. People are purchasing Marckini's books from Bud (the current volunteer manager of books) or necklaces from which to suspend their name badges from Sherry (the current volunteer maker and purveyor of these fashion items). Others distribute the weekly update of the patient contact list, a service that cannot be provided by the hospital due to patient privacy issues. (Inclusion on the list is also completely voluntary). So it's a noisy, even chaotic event.

But we usually manage to quiet down enough to enjoy the programming that is arranged (again by a volunteer). A few weeks ago, Willie brought in his Community Orchestra made up of musicians of all ages and levels of ability. Willie says that, if you can play 2 notes, you can be in the orchestra. Here Willie is leading the group from his keyboard. The little guy sitting directly in front of Willie at his own keyboard was on his very first gig this evening. He seemed to know exactly 2 notes, and he carefully played them right on cue. Willie's organization will establish community orchestras like this one any place in the country. Willie reasons that it's better to be making music than mischief. No argument there.

Last evening we were favored by a full program provided by the Loma Linda Senior Strummers—a ukulele band. While many in the band certainly merit the term senior—the woman front row center has to be nearing 90—some are young whippersnappers scarcely out of their 40s. Beside ukes, the band also featured a harmonica (front row, second from the right), guitars, and even a conch shell.

And also hula dancers—three to be exact—who each did a very credible job. Perhaps it was just as well that their costumes didn't include grass skirts.

The podlucks, strange as they may be, do indeed promote healing. The conversations around the tables invariably include the sharing of cancer stories—"How did you hear about proton treatment?" "How many treatments have you missed because the machine broke down?" "What was your PSA?" "Did you have any trouble with your insurance company?"

The bonding that happens through working and eating together serves a crucial purpose. I heard recently about an oncologist who gives his patients his home phone number and promises he won't let them suffer because we all dread two things most of all—pain and loneliness. Few things could cure the lonelies as well as the podlucks.

And the atmosphere is always upbeat, full of humor, optimistic, mutually supportive, laced with faith.

It's hard for me to imagine proton treatment without the weekly podluck. It's one of the ways I'm being made whole.

Treatment count: 37 down, 8 to go.