The India-Pakistan Connection In The Waiting Room
Drive to the cancer clinic, check in at the desk, change into a robe, and wait until called for radiation treatment. Finish treatment, change back into regular clothes, and drive back home. The next day, the same routine: rinse and repeat, Monday — Friday for four weeks.
A slight variation is to take a book along and read while waiting to be called for treatment.
When the doctor warned me of fatigue as a possible effect, I wondered if he was referring to physical or mental fatigue. Yesterday, in particular, I felt “blah” entering the clinic.
As I waited, I was greeted by one woman in the waiting room: “Hello there, fancy seeing you here.” I recognized her from the previous few days, and we started a conversation. I shared my “blah-ness,” and she said she felt the same the previous day. I felt some relief in learning I was not alone.
After a few minutes, she was called for treatment, and I was waiting in the room with another woman who was on the quieter side during the previous conversation. When I asked her where she was in her treatment, she responded saying she knew very little English.
As a South Asian, particularly as an Indian, I had a feeling she was also South Asian, but I didn’t want to assume. I told her I spoke Hindi, and she said she spoke Urdu.
