Sittin On A Porch

Sittin On A Porch
Our little back porch

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Graduation

Yesterday as I sat working on one of the puzzles laid out on the table in the special cancer waiting area the Therapists walked out with a thin but handsome older African American man and his wife who loves him.  The man, thin from cancer and treatments but beaming from ear to ear was being admonished for getting too thin and they wanted him to eat more and to take care of himself.  He proudly clutched a printed piece of paper and all of us in the waiting room seemed to realize at once, he would not be back on Monday.  He had graduated, finished his treatments.  He would not have to wake his wife to drive him to radiation on Monday.  He will not be laying on the hard metal tables.  And all of us in gowns and those who drive their beloveds to the treatments stood and applauded this survivor, this graduate from our school.  We looked around at each other and smiled.  We looked into each others eyes, the people we politely smile at each day.  The people who we see each day, we do not know each others names, but we find comfort in seeing their faces each morning.  Another day we have survived.  Another day on the machine.  Another day to see loved ones sitting there with their beloveds, dressed in gowns.  Not ball gowns, hospital gowns, men and woman, all ages, all nationalities, finding comfort in each other, in the familiar faces each morning.  And now one of ours was graduating and going back into the world, hopefully to be told in months to come, you are cancer free.


And Monday will be my last treatment.  Will I graduate?  I have only had 13 treatments.  They will give me my mask.  But will the familiar faces smile up at me as I walk out tomorrow.  Will I get a piece of paper?  I think the mask is my piece of paper.  That is my proof that I have been a part of this world, of these people's lives.  That I have been a familiar face.  I will miss their faces.  I will miss the smiles and the laughter.  I will miss the puzzles.  


But it is time to move from radiation, which was more for pain then for control, to chemo.  


WMDs



3 comments:

  1. You will graduate and then on to the next phase. I am sure they will miss you in radiation. A lot.

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  2. I am sure they will miss you too, your graceful words on this page are a clear indicator of your spirit, so lovely and fine.

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  3. In life we make bonds in unusual places...and the bonds you have had made, the faces you have seen at your radiation treatments become a part of your life forever. You may see these faces in the grocery store or on the street and you will smile at them once more...I like your idea of graduating...I think that puts all your are doing in a positive perspective.

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