Tuesday, 11/30 -- Going for a heaping helping of Bug Juice.

Today I start my next round of chemo. I go into the doctor's office, get checked out to make sure I'm healthy enough to be poisoned, then I'm sent downstairs to the chemo suite.

In the chemo suite there are 50 or more reclining chairs set up and down a long narrow room. Each chair is set at a station that includes an IV pole, a cabinet, a privacy curtain and a trash/vomit can. The chairs face each other across the long, narrow room.

There's a main entrance at one end and a back door up at the far end. I have a usual chair I like to sit in up the far end. It's close to the bathroom and away from most of the chatty people. All the chatty people like sitting by the main entrance. I guess they're keeping track of everyone's comings and goings.

Most of these people are in their 60s and 70s. There are a few exceptions, but not many.

At the end of my first few visits I would leave by the main entrance. Thought nothing of it. After a couple of visits the head nurse suggested that I leave by the back door. It was the same distance to walk but it was less congested with patients and nurses.

This became part of my routine as the weeks passed. I thought nothing of it. Until...

One day as I was slipping out the back door, the head nurse, who I now consider a friend, was walking with me. Through conversation she told me why she originally asked me to use the back door. She said that when I would walk down the crowded chemo suite to get to the main entrance, I was having an effect on all the other patients. I was making everyone sad.

In her words, "It makes all the old ladies sad to see someone so young have cancer."
They had watched me leave.
They had talked to each other about me.
I was making them all sad.

I'm right there with you sisters.

I still leave via my escape route. It's part of my routine now. There's so much sadness in the chemo suite already. The mood in the air is that of a viewing. Most people are quite, somber and reflective as they get their poison juice. Every one of these people are fighting for their lives. I don't want to contribute to making these people sadder than they already are. I don't want to make someone's grandmother cry.