The New Girl

Today when I went to radiation there was a full house in the waiting room. Three of the women – Lady Who Loves Her Wine, Lady Who Cares for Her Ailing 90 Year Old Father, and Lady Who ‘Loves Her Dog More Than Any Man She Has Ever Met’ (her words), and the New Girl.

The new girl came in, bald head and johnny fluttering. They make us strip from the waist down prior to going into the room with the big arm and the flat hard table that administers the radiation. Generally the waiting room has the air of an informal gathering of friends. A club that no one wants to be in. Today we were discussing diet changes made or not made in lieu of our cancer diagnosis.

The New Girl was sad and told us so. She was sick of having no hair. Sick of coming to the hospital, and sick of not being at to work. She was sick of being out in public and having to face the stares. She was sick of this life and just wanted her old life back. The tears started to come.

Lady Who Loves Her Dog Best was called for her turn by the tech and reached out to touch the new girl’s shoulder on her way out of the waiting room.

“Stay strong.”