There is a woman who goes to chemo on the days that lloydene goes. She wears a blue saggy cloth hat to keep her head warm while she sits in the slightly chilly infusion room.
She was laying under a blanket on a gurney-improvised-bed. She was gentle and her bright blue eyes blazed through her white paper thin skin, stretched taught over the bones of her face. Her clothes hung from her, a gentle reminder of the weight she'd lost as she waged her battle with cancer. She carried a champions flag that day as it was her very very last day of treatment and her numbers were looking good. She carried herself with an air of exhausted regal champion-hood. She was as graceful as a ballet dancer and her refined laugh sung when I told her so. Trudy- lithe and beautiful had finished her chemo and was looking towards the future.
When Trudy met us, we were just settling into our chairs for the 6 hour wait while lloydene received her chemotherapy. We talked and shared our congratulations and wished her good luck as her husband, whom walked with a wooden cane and a stiff leg took her home. Trudy and lloydene had met as people dealing with the same thing but she had finished the race and was way ahead of us. They were at different points if the journey and their paths were destined to separate. The knowledge crackled in the air between them.
Lloydene is here for her second round of chemo, third infusion. Her body is tired and thin. She is so weak, she favored the gurney-bed. As she lays down, and snuggles into the blanket, feeling miserable, a woman stands up with her iv pole. I wouldn't have noticed her but the nurses saw the impending trip hazard of her iv stand and blanket on the floor and made quick moves to help her. It took me a minute to recognize her but once the blanket was fully removed from her stockinged legs I was pleased to remember -The ballet dancer, Trudy!
I moved off the end of the gurney-bed and lloydene struggled to sit up.
"No no, don't get up, don't get up" Trudy whispered, her blue eyes watering. "I just want to sit close with you, you might not remember me"
The ballet dancer, I said excitedly and her eyes crinkled with a nod and a smile.
She sat down carefully and grabbed Lloydene's hand, asked how she was doing and told her how glad she was to see her.
Lloydene asked why she was here and she looked down.
"It's not good news" she said through shaking breath. She held Lloydene's hand and straightened, trying to be brave for lloydene, seeking solace in the company of someone who understands that fear of impending death. Trudy's cancer might have spread to her abdomen. The air of the champion had left her only to be replaced with clouds of fear. She was scared and lost and defeated. She had stepped back on the path of the journey but the end looked considerably closer for her and the odds were stacked against her. She was again fighting, but how would it look for her this time?
They sat on the gurney-bed until it was too hard for them to sit up. They were quiet, holding hands and hugged each other after Trudy stood up to walk back to her chair. "We're all going to die sometime" Lloydene said out loud, mainly to herself. A reminder to bring the unreal a reality.
In all this time, Lloydene hasn't brushed against someone else near the end of their path. Trudy and Lloydene were able to invite one another into their hearts and accept each other for who they were on the premise of knowing something none of us can understand. They were able to join souls and find a comfort in one another if only for a moment to find solace in their shared sadness.
Their companionship was sweet in the air as they both drifted to sleep and now instead of different places in the race, suddenly they were a team.
I had tears in my eyes.she was so fortunate to have you in her life.
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