One of my coaches is telling me today was #5 of 12.  I saw that in my drawing as the mandala or circle is filling with images of my progression.  I love how this is evolving for me.  The static nature of image #1 and the movement through to today’s image which does not feel static to me at all.  P.S. I was not naked during the infusion…well, in the spirit of being honest, under my clothes and boots I was.

Another non blinking moment happened today.  I was sitting in the waiting room waiting for my lab appointment and a couple entered.  It’s so interesting to see how people do things, isn’t it?  Many, many times when a male is the patient and he is accompanied  by a female , she has the clipboard with the weekly nursing assessment form on it, and she proceeds to fill out the form.  So this couple fell into this process, she interrupted his cell phone call to ask if he’s had any constipation or diarrhea this week…does he feel any pain today…is he afraid he migh fall?  She had beautiful moca colored skin, royal blue pants and a light blue top on.  I loved the colors immediately.

I went into the lab, two vials filled with no hiccup on the port  draw and back into the waiting area by the fireplace awaiting my nurse escort to the chemo suite.  The woman mentioned above looked at me and said “I think I know you…how do I know you?”  Here I am with my head wrapped in a batik scarf, a purple watch cap over that, and a flap hat with great tassles on my head (so much for being incognito!) …I said something like “well if it is from a work memory, I’ve worked at the same place for 20 years”.  I told her where I worked and we figured out that I had done a workshop for teens in 1988 and she was on of the facilitators.  “We made masks. I still have mine.   It was and is to this day, very important to me.  I just wanted you to know.  I’m sorry to meet you here…”  Her partner was called in and the conversation ended with her holding her hand out to me in a very kind gesture.

I went back to chemo chair #5 (no view this time) and started doing work related stuff.  So cool that I can work (if I feel like it) during these treatments.  I don’t really like to admit that I’m a multi-tasker, which I am at times, but I do like that I don’t always have to use my earned time when treatments happen.  It’s tricky working on a lap top when I’m getting scanned or under anesthesia, but chemo infusions of this nature are another story.

I took out my pad once the chemo part of the drip started and the benadryl effects were wearing off  and the above image just poured out with no thought on my part.  This image enchanted me from the first mark I made.  So as I was drawing and rocking out with my music, the woman mentioned above came over and tapped me ever so softly on the shoulder and asked if I minded if she visited with me for a few minutes.  I unplugged myself and closed my pad to give her respectful attention.  I felt blessed by the overture.  Here’s a synopsis of what she said:

I am so sorry that I’m seeing you here after 22 years but at the same time I feel like it is an opportunity to tell you something that I may never have had the chance to tell you.  I was always the white sheep in my black family.  I didn’t feel like I looked like either of my parents, and my natural talents were from somewhere else apparently.  It was an ok childhood, but I was unsettled.  When I made my mask with the teenagers that day, I saw my face for the first time in 3-D.  I saw my father here (she pointed to her chin and her nose), my mother here (her eyes), my father again here (her forehead).  It was so profound it took my breath away.  I had to excuse myself for a minute or two to gain composure.  For the first time, what was I, late 20’s?, I felt that I belonged to these people on a very deep level.

I still have the mask hanging in my house.  When I have days that I just don’t feel like I fit, it reminds me that I belong to that family.  You were just so postive for the children in the workshop, and I benefitted in a way I never imagined I would.  I wanted to thank you.

We spoke briefly about how amazing mask making can be and about the fact that she has been with her husband for 30 years now.  A few minutes later she said “Can I get you anything?  Some tea or something from the kitchen?”  and I graciously declined, pointing to my water and thanking her for taking the time to visit with me.  She got up and touched my shoulder again and joined her husband at chair #1.

This infusion went without a hitch.  I was struck by how fast the time went and I was out of there in 3 hours flat.  The nurses marveled each time the I.V. timer went off, and checked their watches to be sure 15 minutes had elapsed for whatever drip.  Sure enough the timer was working correctly.  It really flew.  I completed my drawing and it was time to have the port access removed.

I went to work and attended staff meeting and a meeting with a colleague in person.  I’d planned to go home to rest and work the rest of the afternoon there, and kept to the plan.   When I got home my eyes were really in need of shutting.  The katz were very pleased to find me in bed at 1:30 or so.  I slept for maybe 1/2 hour and felt rested, and just hung out with the felines for another 1/2 hour before getting back to work.

I have noticed that I may be irritable on occasion.  Skin’s dry. I am chewing on these great ginger chews (the only ginger stuff I actually enjoy).  I am eating more frequent, smaller bits and just trying to be aware of my gut.   I had a little headache going into chemo, but drank more and ate some and it has subsided.  I feel, like other infusions, that I’m aware of the drug(s) going through my system.  Not uncomfortable, just more aware of the path through my body than usual.  I feel like I’m dodging the side effect radar.  If I stay low to the ground and speak softly, maybe I won’t be detected.

I am humbled and so grateful that I WAS detected today by someone who had a wonderful gift for me.