Grace

I have greatly appreciated all of the thoughtful words from around the world in the past two years.  I truly consider myself lucky to have friends, family, and colleagues thinking of me, pulling for  my health and for our family to weather this storm.  Somedays, I believe it has been these thoughts and prayers that have helped buoy me when I've been flagging.  Everyday, it has been innumerable graces, large and small, that have carried me along.
When I went for radiation last week, I sat down as the only patient in the waiting room.  I think I've been the first scheduled patient of the day for three weeks now.  This has worked well for me since I honestly do not want to engage much with anyone around the treatment experience.  When I went for my very first radiation session, the only slot available was in the late afternoon and the waiting room was full of patients.  At the time, it struck me how no one made conversation or even eye contact with one another.  This doesn't seem so strange to me now.  You would think that it would be a natural to connect with other folks living through the same experience and it is - but just not in that space.  It is more akin to a crowded commute on a subway car.  You could look to your neighbor like a wide-eyed rube and say,"Geez, this really sucks, huh?"  And then say the same thing the next day?  Inevitably, we all seem to employ a thousand yard stare most days to endure it and get where we are trying to go.  The nurses and technicians have been unfailingly kind throughout my treatment but that hasn't stopped me from leaping off of the table and out the door before anyone can get a sentence out or ask a simple question.  I'm not sure how other patients deal with this but I want to spend an absolute minimum amount of my day in the dungeon.  As soon as I emerge from the depths, I feel instantly better and reconnected with the world.
I sat and waited and the room slowly filled with other patients.  A nurse finally came in after an hour and let us know there was a delay.  Patients kept trickling in until there wasn't an open seat in the room.  I was growing antsy and impatient even as I was sitting silently trying to mediate and calm my mind.  After about another forty-five minutes, my name was finally called and I started heading for the treatment room.  In fifteen minutes, I could cross another day off of calendar.
The next thing I witnessed stopped me and cracked my heart open.  A nurse emerging from the treatment room passed me cradling a child in her arms who couldn't have been older than eighteen months.  Treating a child so young is a much more complicated procedure.  Not being able to understand what is happening to them or hold still, young children have to be sedated in order to receive treatment.  In an instant, all of my impatience and ill-temper shrank down to a speck of dust and blew away.
What we are living through is difficult but I am constantly aware that others are confronting much greater challenges and living through them with bravery and grace.