At first glance, she stands empty,
dark, and devoid of any life. There is a couple looking in at her, wide-eyed,
brows furrowed, with questions left unasked. She waits quietly, knowing that
she will soon play a large part in this couple’s lives. She knows that her
reputation is frightening. What she stands for is as suffocating as being
caught underneath a raft and being unable to find the surface of the water.
However, she also knows that for many people, she is the difference between
life and death.
The next day, she stands ready. Shiny IV stands are set in each
workstation. Pillows and blankets are placed on each green vinyl recliner.
Counters are clean, except for the medical files of the patients; blue scrubs
are ready for the nurses to don. On the light peach colored walls are pictures
of the beach with water so blue it beckons the observer to jump in. Her nurses
are bubbly like champagne on New Years Eve; her lab technicians are as
entertaining as the late Bernie Mac. Everything is in order and awaits the
people that will sit in one of her honorary positions. She is now ready for a
new day just as the first patients are called back.
She may be a chemotherapy room, but dark is no longer her prominent
image. An eclectic mix of upbeat music
playing from her speakers greets patients as they are called back and seated in
one of her recliners. Although the lights are turned off, a large picture
window covers one wall and beautiful sunlight streams in leaving bands of light
across the floor. Crackers, cookies, chips and pretzels are placed in baskets
on her counters. Her refrigerators are stocked with bottles of juice, ginger
ale, and water for anyone that may want or need to maintain strength or fight
off the nausea that is prevalent in so many of her visitors.
She is no longer empty. Her chairs are now filled with patients who are
allowing poison into their bodies while praying that it will destroy any cancer
that is in them. Nurses suit up from head to toe in heavy blue scrubs to
protect them from the toxicity of the chemotherapy drugs that they are pushing
into their patient’s bodies or hanging on an IV hook. The smell of alcohol
haunts the air like a menacing ghost that does not want habitants around. It is
so nauseating that tears well in one’s eyes as the urge to bolt from the chair
grows. The patient takes a deep breath
as her husband holds her hand. The nurse pushes the needle for the IV into the
woman’s chest.
No, she is no longer empty. She is now filled with hope. Patients who
haven’t seen each other in days or weeks take this time to catch up with one
another and share words of inspiration. For the patient who is new and scared,
there is the seasoned warrior ready to take them under their wing. For the battered warrior who is getting weary
from their battle, there is the warrior with unwavering faith, lending their
strength to help them through the storm. These sisters and brothers are all
willing to give their love and open their hearts to anyone that makes the
decision to come inside the room. It is within her that this camaraderie is
formed. It is within her that some lives will be decided.
She is no longer devoid of life. Each green recliner and visitor’s chair
face to the middle of the room. The people in the chairs all share lively
conversations about children, work, sports and bucket lists to be fulfilled
when chemo is done. Everyone in this room shares stories of good times that
leave each person laughing and troubles forgotten if just for a few minutes.
The walls cannot hold back the dreams that will one day be filled by the
patients who graced the room.
As the day moves on, the room begins to darken. A hush falls over her as
the sun goes down. Is the room losing her life energy? No, for those who have
spent the whole day in the chairs, the poison has started to wear down the
body. She knows this, which is why she has one more trick up her sleeve.
There is a clicking noise coming up the hall, and in the room walks a
sandy colored golden retriever. The dog scans the room and walks up to the
green chair and lays its head in the lap of the woman sitting in it. The woman,
with her eyes closed strokes the dog’s head. Life is still flowing in this
room, just gentler, quieter, and more peaceful. This room seems to always be
prepared. When it’s cold, blankets are pulled from her cabinets. When patients
are sleepy, her chairs are reclined and extra pillows are added.
Yes, at first glance, she stands empty, dark and devoid of life.
However, once a patient enters, she stands for so much more. She stands for
every cancer patient that has made the decision to walk through her doors and
sit in her green recliner. She stands for hope. Hope for a cure. Hope for
another chance. Hope for a miracle.
You are a true writer my friend. I was so into your story I almost missed my bus stop. Keep writing the way you do. Keeping sharing. Keeping reaching out. Your writing is healing.
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