Normally I don't give all that much concern to the other patients, particularly in the check-in area, where patient privacy is paramount. So it was actually her perky, me-me-me voice that first caught my ear. She was about my age, give or take, and looked like she'd just stopped by from jogging the dogs through her upscale neighborhood. Short, straight, highlighted hair pulled back in a ponytail. Name-brand track jacket, cropped yoga pants, trendy running shoes. Makeup carefully applied to look like it wasn't there. French-manicured nails around a tall cup of fancy-ccino. She was talking hurriedly, excitedly, caffeinated-and-ready-to-go. She had just gotten married to this awesome guy. They'd just moved into this great new house. Her life was full of Activity, of People, Places, and Events. She could barely get through all 40-odd check-yes-or-no boxes on the Symptoms Form before bubbling over with something else she was busy Doing in her Amazing Life.The overworked receptionist just smiled wanly at her, slapped the roll of patient-identification labels onto the sheaf of forms, and pointed her to the lab, for vitals and bloodwork. Next!
I couldn't help but feel sorry, somewhere, for that woman. Newly married, and young, and facing potential infertility. Attractive, and losing her looks, at least for a while. Fit and healthy, and being unable to work out much for weeks, heart and lungs damaged by the drugs, scared of the germy gyms.
But I also found myself desperately squelching a smug satisfaction desperately reeking of those teenage "Mean Girls" days. You think you're hot now, huh? Mmm-hmm...I want to see what you look like in eight weeks, b****!!
4 comments:
You're right. If you cut off the hair, she'd look like a British man. :-)
Anyways, regarding your comment about the mean girl thing...
I can those days of wanting to 'spite' the girls in the mean-girl cliques. I would be skinnier, richer, smarter, etc...than they were. (In 20 years!) And I am, actually.
However, even if I do feel skinnier, richer, smarter...I'm still never going to take away any hurt they caused during the younger years.
However, you're dealing with something much worse than being fat. (Although a survey I saw said that more than 1/2 of women would rather get hit by a bus than be obese.) At any rate, it is hard to tamp down those feelings of spite, but good for you for recognizing the dangers involved in that thinking.
Ultimately, all of us will face hardship we've never expected to face. And what makes us humane is how we treat others.
I have to admit...I'm always afraid to think bad thoughts about people or towards people. It's that old Karma thing.
I'm afraid my wish would come true--which would leave me guilt stricken and depressed. Or I'm afraid worse will happen to me personally for thinking such a terrible thing.
Interesting topic today. And I love the photo.
I remember people watching in the waiting room - making up stories of the lives of all the folks there. Some young and perky looking, some old and disabled, some middle aged. When my treatments were long over and my hair had grown back, I still had to go for check-ins every six months for a while. The people in the waiting room would look at me, and I could tell they were wondering what my story was.
Even now, I get jolted every once in a while, like this morning, when I saw an oxygen and medical supply truck at a nice and modern-looking home about a half mile away. I don't know the people, but now I know a little something about their trials. It's so easy to assume that everyone around you has this "normal" life, and no problems. Its hard to keep in mind that everyone has a story, everyone has a cross to bear. We all get so wrapped up in our own stuff!
The world would be a better place if we could all walk a mile in each other's shoes.
Carol,
You're right. There's always a story behind a person's facade.
I remember certain people in my life specifically. But I'm not comfortable sharing their story.
I know I try to have compassion in general. But I do admit that even the most 'normal looking person' has hidden depths. Some hide their goodness behind a bushel. Some hide their 'badness' behind a bushel too.
The problem isn't that it's only a health story that's hidden. But our country has a terrible way of dealing with people who suffer from mood disorders or PTSD. And on a political note with that, you can see that Vets come home with PTSD but you don't see it because those scars are hidden.
When you're dealing with most diseases people are compassionate and will willingly set forth whatever treatment is needed. (Except the insurance companies.) But when it comes to things like PTSD or depression or other 'mental illnesses', our country doesn't provide for those needs. Most insurance companies provide lip service to that type of coverage.
My point is that you're right. Many people have their own stories--their own traumas.
I think when you first experience something like that, you go through an internal self-focused faze--which you have to do to survive! Then maybe inside of you there's resentment and anger. Then after you get your hope back, you are able to look towards the people out there again with new eyes.
Sounds like one of those girls we all love to hate. As much as she bugs you, hopefully she maintains a positive attitude. If she fits the stereotype you're describing, I can picture her refusing to leave her house or have anyone come over because she doesn't want people to see her looking "ugly". I hated how I looked a lot of the time but at least I went out in public on a regular basis.
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