Thoughts from the Breast Cancer Clinic waiting area

Breast cancer is no respecter of persons. As I sit in the waiting area, waiting, I look around at the group that has just settled in. These patients and their support people have just left an ‘orientation class’ on what to expect as they start treatment for breast cancer. My first thought is – wow, this is ONE hospital, ONE day, I can’t believe how many women are newly diagnosed with breast cancer; there are at least 17 or 18. Some of the ladies are old – grandma looking types with white hair and moving slowly, husbands or daughters by their sides. There are younger gals – my age, plus or minus a few years; one had 2 friends with her – as her name is called, they move together, almost touching, their support almost physical/palpable. Others are here with husbands, mothers (sometimes hard to tell who is the patient and who is the supporter – the older or the younger), sisters and a few with an entourage of helpers. And there are a couple of really young gals – I mean, in their 20’s or 30’s. Wow. There are white gals and black gals and Asian gals and Hispanic gals. Speaking English and Italian and Albanian. Tall, short, skinny, large, no bust, XL bust. Business suits, jeans, dockers, skirts. Short hair, long hair, curly hair, black, brown, blonde, grey, white, and red hair. And I wonder, 6 months from now, how many will have no hair. You would think it might be kind of a depressing place – all this cancer, all this pain, suffering, and anxiety that has made it’s appearance - unasked and unwanted - into these people’s lives and now concentrated in this one place. But, instead, it’s an uplifting kind of place because it’s a hopeful place. This is the Breast Cancer Clinic. The people who work here are dedicated to helping and healing and giving hope. They DO this – they know how to fight this battle. As I look around the waiting room, I don’t see people crying; they are talking quietly to each other or on the phone, or reading through materials, or filling out forms. But fairly often there is a burst of laughter, or even just a giggle that lets me know that they are not defeated. This is the beginning; the battle has started; you GO girls!