I was 15 minutes late to the clinic on Monday because I couldn’t remember how to get there. I am not sure if it was my chemo brain acting up or if the California break caused a mini amnesia blacking out all memory of illness.
There was no problem really arriving late except that it seems I missed Ruth’s earlier performance. I was very happy to see that she was there. It was her last treatment so I went straight over to cheer her on. I was bummed that I missed the first show but I was determined to get her on tape and when I told her my plan she blushed and laughed and tried to tell me she would be too shy and embarrassed, but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her words and I knew part of her would love it. So I told her she will have to do an encore. I just had to wait for the right moment. She was on a high that morning having watched the president’s press conference on TV regarding the swine flu crisis. “Did you see him? He is so impressive” she said with a gush. I tell her that I avoid watching the news as part of my stress relief therapy and besides, unfortunately an eloquent delivery doesn’t really change the nature of the news.
It was another busy day at the clinic, but I got to sit next to her. Everyone is asking how she was going to celebrate the end of her treatment; she says she had been celebrating all weekend. I got to know a little bit more about Ruth as she confirmed that she teaches literature at the Jewish senior center. She is there almost every day. She has three children. A daughter who took over the Seder dinner tradition, a son who is a computer programming PHD and who unfortunately suffered an attrition in his company and another son who is a writer and lives in DC who tells her that her writing is just good enough for the senior center. I disagree. She married late because she kept thinking that she will make it as an actor. She was forty when she had her youngest. She lived all her life in Cincinnati and she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else as her song says.
We move on to the subject of her health. She is doing great. Her doctor said she is totally cured. Her grandson tells her that she can’t die because she is not the dying type. We all crack up at this comment and concur. She does look great. She tells me she walks an hour and half every day, she does aerobics and will RESTART lifting weights to tone her arms. Do you see my jaw drop?
All the nurses are coming by to tell her how they will miss seeing her and she will have to stop by to visit when she comes back for her checkups which she promises to do. I took out my camera and asked her to give us a performance. She had a new song about senior citizen day, but I also asked her to perform the Cincinnati song. She was prepared with song sheets and began. Ruth ended her performance with a well deserved ovation. Best of all I have it on tape. We all agreed that the entertainment at this clinic was the best and I suggested that maybe they should charge an entry fee.
Meanwhile Karim came by with lunch for his hungry mother. Ruth gushed over him as much as she did over the president and gave him a big hug before she left which I know he enjoyed and returned with as much warmth as when he hugs his grandmothers.
I promised Ruth to put her performance on a DVD for her so this was not going to be the last time I see her. I took down her full name and contact information and plan on calling her soon.
Where one encounter ends another begins. I had about twenty minutes left when an African American gentleman came in looking a little lost. It was his first time in this place and was being treated for sickle cell anemia. He won’t accept transfusion for religious reasons yet he is another Walking Miracle. The doctors had told his mother that he won’t make it past age eighteen. He is forty six. He works with computers but his love is standup comedy. Oh, I wished he came a little earlier to meet Ruth who writes plays, as he tells me he actually needs a writer. The nurse comes by to confirm his name. His real name, the one on the meds is Michael but he likes to be called Jabaree. I was done and getting ready to leave so the nurse asked him to sit in my chair. As I was leaving he added that Jabaree means -in four African languages- Brave and Strong. "And so you are" I told him, he nodded, smiled and thanked me but I wanted to thank him because for the second time that day I had met a brave and strong walking miracle who by no coincidences sat in my seat.
Until the next time
Much love
nevine
Ruth and I
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