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Last week i went for my annual CT Scan. For the first time I was quite confident that I was going to be "clear" (as it turned out to be 
), and wasn't worried.
while in the waiting room, waiting to be "scanned", there were two ladies with their needles in their arms waiting for their turn.
The younger one was in her 30/40, all dressed in black, pale skin, black hair and sadness in her eyes, eyes that she kept fixed on the ground. I immediately thought that she was going 8or had gone) through rough times.
Sitting next to her there was this big lady, in her early fifites, with unnatural blonde hair (kept very short), a red and yellow flower dress, and a "puffy" pink face. She was reading a magazine, not very interested in the lecture, and talking to her daughter by phone. When se hung up (she was talking quite loudly, laughing and joking), silence broke in. The dark lady in her corner looking into nowhere, the older one looking in her direction.
After severel minutes of silence (i could tell that she wanted to say something) the older lady, with a big smile said: "i hate these needles, and i always faint... did you hear me scream while the nurse put it in?" asking to the other lady. The black woman made a little effort to smile then turned dark again. "Are you worried, dear?" asked the lady in flowers. "I'm not worried about needles" she said with a tiny voice "but what they might find in my head". And the other one, smiling and opening her big blue eyes "Cara (dear), i've had two brain tumors. First time they opended my head in two and took it out. The second time i had radiation for three months... now, i'm back here. But see? I'm not worried... if it comes back, i'll face it again". Then she added "...But those needles... mmm i hate them!" and she leaned toward the other woman nearly touching her hand, smiling.
A couple of hours later, it turned out that the "black lady" was okay (at least from the expression she and her husband had when they got out of the hospital), while the other lady (as she told me) wasn't finished yet, becuase she was goign to do other exams, that were going to take a while. Going home, I didn't even wish her good luck, knowing she didn't need it.
What hit me was the different approach to Cancer that people have: those who experienced it on their skin, and those who haven't been so lucky. Yes, lucky. Maybe it's true, as someone says, that we fear only what we don't know. Marisa, the two-times cancer patient, is not a hero because she survived. Maybe she is not stronger than the other lady. Probably she fears no more, because she knows the "monster". She knows that it can be beaten, or at least, handled. The other lady, probably, within a week, will have removed the word "cancer" from her vocabulary, putting it into the closet, in the dark, where it can frighten.
), and wasn't worried.while in the waiting room, waiting to be "scanned", there were two ladies with their needles in their arms waiting for their turn.
The younger one was in her 30/40, all dressed in black, pale skin, black hair and sadness in her eyes, eyes that she kept fixed on the ground. I immediately thought that she was going 8or had gone) through rough times.
Sitting next to her there was this big lady, in her early fifites, with unnatural blonde hair (kept very short), a red and yellow flower dress, and a "puffy" pink face. She was reading a magazine, not very interested in the lecture, and talking to her daughter by phone. When se hung up (she was talking quite loudly, laughing and joking), silence broke in. The dark lady in her corner looking into nowhere, the older one looking in her direction.
After severel minutes of silence (i could tell that she wanted to say something) the older lady, with a big smile said: "i hate these needles, and i always faint... did you hear me scream while the nurse put it in?" asking to the other lady. The black woman made a little effort to smile then turned dark again. "Are you worried, dear?" asked the lady in flowers. "I'm not worried about needles" she said with a tiny voice "but what they might find in my head". And the other one, smiling and opening her big blue eyes "Cara (dear), i've had two brain tumors. First time they opended my head in two and took it out. The second time i had radiation for three months... now, i'm back here. But see? I'm not worried... if it comes back, i'll face it again". Then she added "...But those needles... mmm i hate them!" and she leaned toward the other woman nearly touching her hand, smiling.
A couple of hours later, it turned out that the "black lady" was okay (at least from the expression she and her husband had when they got out of the hospital), while the other lady (as she told me) wasn't finished yet, becuase she was goign to do other exams, that were going to take a while. Going home, I didn't even wish her good luck, knowing she didn't need it.
What hit me was the different approach to Cancer that people have: those who experienced it on their skin, and those who haven't been so lucky. Yes, lucky. Maybe it's true, as someone says, that we fear only what we don't know. Marisa, the two-times cancer patient, is not a hero because she survived. Maybe she is not stronger than the other lady. Probably she fears no more, because she knows the "monster". She knows that it can be beaten, or at least, handled. The other lady, probably, within a week, will have removed the word "cancer" from her vocabulary, putting it into the closet, in the dark, where it can frighten.