The Waiting Room . . .
I went to the oncologist the other day, and I have to say (and I am sure it sounds odd) that I like waiting rooms. There were plenty of us women in there, and I always love to strike up a conversation when I am in a waiting room for anything. One of the senior ladies was talking about her extremely rare type of cancer of the appendix that is fatal in known cases. We all sort of chimed in about how, when you first learn you have any form of cancer, you are sort of taken aback because if you speak to 50 other women, they will all offer different experiences, knowledge, and their feelings about what they have been through – not just the cancer itself, but their lives before and after. But it is always good, and there is a sort of community that comes of it. It is not a pity party at all because suddenly the best comes out of each and every one.
As some of you already know, I am a young 76 going on 77, and proud of it too. And I was sitting next to a lady 80 who was truly beautiful. She told me she has blood cancer and has had it for some 12 years. She was dressed nicely, had her lovely gray hair fixed so prettily, and she was in great shape, despite the long time she had been on the chemo. I looked around the room, and there were some men there too, but they all remained silent and just listened thoughtfully. Each woman in her turn told her story of what it was like when she found first found out she had it, trying to figure out what all the words meant to her, and then doing her research so that she could make an informed decision.
All of the women sat upright, proud to have taken care of themselves in a way that others might not have done, and all of them seemed to be shining with a light that would not be extinguished. We all talked about our physical abilities and how despite aches and pains that often accompany cancer, how we all managed to do things that younger people could not even do. I showed my ability to bend from the waist and touch the floor with hands flat, and to squat and come back up without assistance, and to bend backwards. I do not go to a gym, and I did not do these things at all when I was younger. It had something to do with meeting the love of my life and we how we ultimately joined forces to love and take care of each other. Suddenly I was finding myself doing things physically that I never did before.
As we sat in that waiting room, the sun shining into the room and lighting up each of us with some sort of magical energy, I understood why I love the waiting rooms. I saw the faces of the silent ones contemplating this energy and incredible love of life that was so present throughout the room. We are not perfect. We too have our aches and pains; but we are warriors of the spirit with a will to live, and I know as sure as I joined in spirit with those wonderful women that death will not be coming to claim any of us without a huge fight.
