Due to a miscalculation in traffic, I arrived at the radiation unit a few minutes early today. I figured, no problem, I’ve been needing to catch up on last month’s People Magazine anyway. Will Brad leave Angie…more importantly, will I care? Maybe it’ll be the one where they showcase really fat people who lose half their body mass with just diet and exercise. I always look for the one guy who couldn’t afford a traditional gym and ended up lifting gallons of paint or punching bags of grain – ala Rocky Balboa.
I settled in to my beige upholstered chair where thousands of cancer patients had sat before me and took a moment to look around.
There they sat, people who come here everyday in different stages of treatment and different levels of healing. People either with hope or looking for hope. Their loved ones in tow making idle conversation with anyone in the room who’ll listen. Honorably trying to lift the heavy mood to make it feel like we’re all waiting to pick up tonight’s pizza.
And what I notice is that they do keep the mood light. With chatter about hand sanitation and skin ointments and where to get the freshest coffee in the hospital they distract us all. Boldly they put themselves out there to keep the focus on the here and now, instead the real reason that all our paths have crossed.
As patients we get all the caring looks and random acts of kindness from strangers who see our bald heads and ‘know” but when it comes to treatment we go reluctantly. We’ve been poked at, carved into, and emotionally pushed around and we’re very, very tired. We might not even make it in except that we have these brave souls who help us and make us food and drive us to and from and try, try ,try to make it all tolerable. And oddly enough they manage to do just that.