Stories from the Waiting Room

Bobbie's husband was originally diagnosed with contact dermatitis. It was at her insistence that the hospital scanned him, at which point they discovered he had cancer.

When the nurse technician shows up to give Bobbie a hand to get to the radiation room (she's a little unsteady on her feet) I yell out "It's show time Bobbie!" and she gives her best interpretation of a high kick - her foot maybe makes it 10" off the ground.

This week we've been joined regularly by a woman I've mentally nick-named "Cancer Girl." A breast cancer patient like me, she's one of those people who has readily embraced the cancer treatment lifestyle. She knows everything there is to know about traditional and alternative healthcare options at the hospital. She has a lot of tips on managing side effects. She has a strong POV on the perfect headgear and where to get it. I'm confident she'll be all over the Race for the Cure next year.

I suspect there's two types of cancer patient: those like Cancer Girl for whom this experience has provided a whole new community, a sense of focus and a way of life; and people like me who really want to get out of this club as soon as humanly possible.

Here's to January 3rd, when I will become a civilian again.