Mariano walked me through the long corridor of the hospital to get to the elevator that led directly to the fourth floor oncology. When I eventually had to go on my own for follow-ups, I couldn’t remember the way.
I hated being in that area. We would sit in one of the waiting rooms for what seemed like an excessive amount of time, but the chemo and radiation treatments were usually on time. When I had to see my oncology doctors, the waiting was much longer.
The department was always bustling with activity, swarmed by patients, caregivers, doctors, and nurses. There was still a calmness around, a respect for those being treated. The occasional smile on the faces that walked by proved life continued for the well. It would have been nice if some one would liven up the place. I realize it wasn’t the maternity ward, but the sporadic donor posters and how-to-deal-with-cancer-brochures were much of the decor.
As I looked around the waiting areas, I could tell who the patients were – usually the quiet ones. Sure, there were patients who didn’t appear sick, but the majority were either silently sad or lacked energy, and in line to receive their poison. A few shared their frustration if they waited too long. Who wants to be in that place more than they have to?
Not every one there was doing chemo. In one waiting room, they were either visiting an oncologist for the first time or following up after treatments were completed. The visit with the doctor lasted no more than five to seven minutes, with a quick exchange of information about bloodwork and symptoms.
Heading quickly to the elevators, I was anxious to return home to get comfortable on the couch.
My next post will be July 11. Sorry, for those who look forward to the weekly read, but it’s a great time for those of you I see catching up and for new readers to join in. I hope you’re enjoying your summer (it’s finally here, I think!) and I’m looking forward to my next excerpt. Take care and please “share” my link!