Poison.

A few days passed, and before we knew it, it had been three weeks. Today was the day we would meet Dr. Dickinson. It was an afternoon appointment. I immersed my mind in television that morning, watching old reruns of ER. I didn’t think much that morning.  Maybe I knew I would be thinking more than I cared to later that day.

We packed in the car, my mom, my dad and me. It was a quiet ride there. We didn’t say much. The sun shone bright that day. It was warm outside, and summer was in full bloom. I hadn’t noticed summer from my room in the old raised ranch. I wore a blue knit top, but I was cold.

We parked the car and noticed a few stairs to be climbed to get to the office. There may have been three steps, but to me it looked like a mountain. My mom grabbed me by the arm to help pull me up the steps. I was short of breath. I could feel my heart pulsing within me.

We walked into the waiting room. I think that was when the gravity of my situation truly hit me. I had been scared. I knew I was sick. But I don’t think I fully realized how serious things were until I entered this room.  We sat down, and I tried to catch my breath. I noticed an older woman with a pink doo rag covering her bald head. I noticed a frail middle aged man with a withdrawn look and pale skin. I peered around the corner and instantly wished I hadn’t. What I saw scared me to my core.

There was a room full of people attached to IV poles with bags of chemicals spilling into their veins. I knew those bags contained poison. I knew those bags were filled with drugs intended to kill cells and wipe out their immune systems. I knew those bags were supposed to kill their diseases, but I also knew it would kill some of them in the process.

I watched them, but only for a few seconds. That’s all I could handle. I braced myself and watched some of them recline back in chairs, talking. Others closed their eyes tightly. Most were older. I secretly wondered if I would be joining them. It didn’t look good. For a second I wondered if I pretended to be ‘all better’ if I could get the doctor to agree with me that I didn’t need to be here of all places.

Then I moved my arm. The pain over took me, and I realized there was no way out. But right on through.

We were given some paperwork to fill out and told to wait. We waited for what felt like hours. It took all my energy to control my thoughts and keep my mind from wandering.

Finally, a thin woman with short blonde hair in green scrubs came and got us. She brought us back to the exam room. I had seen so many of these. While she began taking my blood pressure, Dr. Dickinson walked in. He was a middle aged man with a full beard and mustache. He had brown hair and kind eyes. I remember feeling safe when he walked in the room. My parents had tried to be brave, but as time passed I realized they didn’t know any more than I did.

Dr. Dickinson introduced himself to us, shaking our hands. We talked for a few moments, and then he invited us into his office where we would be “more comfortable”. I was happy to sit in a chair with a back to it. He began to ask questions. I told the familiar story. I knew it by heart at this point. I had told it so many times. I wasn’t annoyed this time though. Actually I wanted to get it just right. I didn’t want to leave anything out. My parents talked and shared their observations and their stories as well. He took time with us that day. His blue eyes were patient with us.

My hazel eyes were not as patient. I couldn’t help but blurt out, “So what do you think it could be?”.

He talked with us a while longer. He gently introduced the possibility of leukemia or lymphoma. He recommended that we see how things play out and that we wait. We wondered “How would we know? Leukemia? Lymphoma? How could we wait?”.

He recommended a CAT scan of my chest, which would reveal any possible nodules.

He spent two hours with us that day. We had never even heard of a doctor taking that much time for a patient.

We left exhausted and drained.

My dad wondered how he made any money.

 My mom wondered how they would ever afford a visit that long.

Two weeks later the bill came in the mail. It was less than 200 dollars.

God always took care of us.