My chemo-day friend got her walking papers today.
We’ve spent much of this year keeping each other company, getting to know each other on such a personal, intimate level. I still have the trashy novel she gave me when we first met. “Read it,” she said, “It will keep your mind off of this place.” And while she slept on and off through her treatment, her sister-in-law quietly shared her uncertain and ever-changing prognosis with me. Sometimes, self preservation kept me on the opposite side of the room. Other days, I felt an incredible urge to seek her out, sit beside her and spend my time talking with someone who got it.
It seems outrageous to admit that I don’t even know her name.
Despite that fact, the news of her ‘clear scans’ made my heart happy. I wanted to hug her today! Instead, I grinned as we conspiratorially whispered about “getting the hell out of here.” And when her medication made her drift off to sleep, I slipped a note in her bag – “Happy Bell Ringing Day My Friend! May there be many happy, healthy days ahead.” For both of us.