Living Room Table Monday, November 12th 2018.
I was scheduling my next appointment and met a woman in I believe in her late 60s and her daughter who were doing the same, scheduling the next three month appointment. We struck up a conversation, the usual clinic stuff, “Whatda ya got,” I ask, “Lung” she replies, “Me too”, I answer. “Spread,” she asks, “No, Lucky,” I reply. “Radiation”, she asked? “Twice a day for a month then a series to the brain,” I answered. “Yikes,” She answers. Once a day and chemo”. she answered. “Lose the hair,” she asked? “Twice”, I stated. After that question she seemed to take a moment to size me up and after that moment of serious consideration stated, “You seem to be doing ok,” “You also”, I answered. We then went on to have a nice conversation about herbal tea and blue/green algae supplements and I felt good. I realized that her daughter had basically been left out of the conversation even though she sat on a chair in between us. The majority of the conversation was spoken as if by two people belonging to the secret society of cancer survivors and if you don’t know the super special handshake, you are not part of the club. A simple conversation in which I found another friend wandering down the path and although the chances of us ever seeing each other again are very slim, she’ll stick in my mind as my new life continues to unfold and forever hold a place at that spot on the path of my life. Her friendly smile and pleasant demeanor masking the reality that she as I came very close to being dealt the same fate but instead were given new paths to find our way down.
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