Ti(red) of sick treatment

As my friend, Diana, has endured chemotherapy, I have been fortunate enough to spend lots of time with her. She would go for her week-long monthly treatments at HUP and I would bring her back home. We made a few scheduled stops before we arrived at her house: lunch, drop off the new prescriptions, and food shopping.

We had this funny little routine. I would drop her off in front of the grocery store and then park the car. I knew she would always go to the right first, so I usually caught up with her in the dairy section. Then the fun began.

If you have ever been a bald, pale, slow-moving cancer patient with tubes hanging out of your chest then you can totally relate to how strangers treat you. We could get away with ANYTHING in that store. One time, we were standing in front of the milk. The store was very crowded that day, so lots of people were waiting to get their carts in close enough to grab a gallon. I ended up seeing two or three people that I knew while standing there, and hugging and lingering and chatting resulted. Normally, other shoppers would express their impatience, whether verbally or facially, but since I was with Diana everyone pretended to wait pleasantly as I talked on and on.

If Diana walked down a crowded aisle, everyone smiled and gave her the right of way, always giving her a wide berth to maneuver. On occasion, Diana would be drunk driving with her cart, bump into someone, but then THEY would apologize to HER. We just marveled at the change in human behavior and took full advantage of the royal treatment – often asking for TWO pieces of American cheese at the deli counter.

I saw this article last week about another Dianne. Dianne Odell lived in an iron lung for almost 60 years until a power failure ended her life. Although very sad, one particular line in the story grabbed my attention. Because she was confined to a 7 ft. tube, one of the health care workers said, “Everyone she encountered came to her because they cared about her…so she grew up in her 61 years thinking every person is good.”

Why do we straighten up when we encounter people who are obviously suffering? I wonder why we fail to see each others’ less obvious diseases. Maybe we should all just shave our heads and start some sort of bumper sticker/T-shirt/Bono campaign that proclaims, “I’m just as ti(red) of this as you are. Wanna be nice to each other?”

Or we could fill a crop duster or two with chemo.