“TALES FROM THE WAITING ROOM”
 by Ralph Montesano

“Getting to know you”

Recently I have become a member of the exclusive inner waiting room of a local medical center’s radiation cancer treatment department.  It’s a nice waiting area.  You see, you can only get in with a card that has a UPC on It. It also has your name and date of birth on it for identification purposes… Having played the role of Big Daddy in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and memorizing over 55 minutes of dialog in Act 2 alone, learning someone’s name and date of birth isn’t very hard if I’d ever want to sneak in for a, say, extra 60 Gy of radiation.  I’m guessing that’s not a problem though.

First off you enter the main waiting room, with or without a companion, you swipe your special UPC ID and you, and only you, proceed back the hall to the treatment area with it’s exclusive waiting area.  It has a couple of love seats.  I don’t know why there are loves seats because they made your companion stay in the general public waiting room and no one wants to sit next to another cancer patient could their cancer be contagious?  There are also a couple of chairs but no “over-sized chairs” oh.. wait, that’s why they have love seats…

The first day I walk in and give a generic nod to the 5 or so people sitting in there.  They are all clothed differently depending on where their treatment is focused.  Some have gowns on, others with varying levels of hospital vs. personal attire.  I’m lucky, they shoot my head so I get to wear whatever I want, except a hoodie, of course.  The only other defining factor is how long people have been getting treatments.  It sounds harsh but mostly you can figure out who the veterans are by the amount of hair on their head or by the presence of that special head piece I affectionately call a chemo rag.

  When they are ready they call your name over the loudspeaker in the middle of the room “Mr. Montesano, please report to the treatment area”.  You jump up, give another generic nod and walk back to the desk where you identify yourself, if you memorized the name on your ID, Name, Date of Birth, Area to be treated.  Usually they are looking at the monitor of the computer so you can cheat and sneak a look at your ID badge if you forget.  I doubt they’ll notice.  Then they take you into the “Linear Accelerator” which focuses a beam of radiation on the area to be treated.  You are placed in position, in my case, held there by a mask they molded to your face.  No worries, you can breathe, talk and see in between the mesh that makes up the mask.  Then, depending on whether they need weekly x-rays or not, the whole treatment takes two minutes.  They remove the mask and you are off to resume your life.  Oh and I gave another generic nod to those still waiting. And there was evening and there was morning – the first day!  29 to go!

And every day is the same, the same time, the same people, the same treatment.  The only thing that changes are the stories in the waiting area and that is where I focus the remainder of these thoughts.

On day 1 I appeared in the waiting area in street clothes.  I fit in pretty well.  In my desire to try and lead a normal life I decided to go to work and take a break to go get my radiation.  So. on day two I show up wearing scrubs and a white coat.  I walk in and break from tradition… instead of the generic nod, I say “good morning, everyone”.  They all freeze.  This one guy, ‘Mr. Bancini’ (I call  him that because he reminds me of the character in “Cuckoo’s Nest”), well, he says to me “You work here????” with a puzzled look on his face.  Ha!!!  I look him square in the face and with my best bedside manner I whisper “Yeah, we get it too!  He smiled… I thought to myself, “YUP, I nailed the Bancini thing” Watch the movie, you’ll laugh!  Mr. Bancini is an older guy, thinning hair, big eyes and a perpetual smile, but not a real smile if you get my meaning.  It’s just stuck below his nose.  Oh, and he walks with a walker.

So the morning ritual now evolves.  The next day I walk in “Bancini” says “There’s the man”.  I say, “How are you today?”  He smiles and replies… “another day!”   Wow... We now have real dialog.  Just then another guy shows up and Bancini says “There’s the man”.  Wait, I thought that I was the man.  The other guy says good morning to him and asks how he is. Bancini smiles and says “Another day”.  I think to myself “hmmmm”. “MR. MONTESANO, REPORT TO THE TREATMENT AREA” I stand up and give a generic nod… all I got right now!

Another patient I’m interacting with is, well, “Aunt Bee”, you know, from the Andy Griffith Show?  She doesn’t look like Aunt Bee, doesn’t really act like her, she just holds her purse to her chest like Aunt Bee would.  The radiation has affected her vocal chords so she talks very loud with a whisper (I later found out she is a school bus driver… explains a lot).  One morning I walk in and she is sitting across the waiting room from Bancini.  Aunt Bee is wearing a gown and a Chemo Rag clutching her purse to her chest. Sitting on the next love seat is a new guy, late 50s, very thin, long black and gray hair, thinning of course, and long black and gray beard, thinning of course.  He is wiry and is aggressively drinking a cup of water, constantly moving, re-crossing his legs and shifting his weight with every cross.  Let’s call him “Haysus” so as not to offend either group. (Oh, he’s not Hispanic, more of a Duck Dynasty Biker type.  The other group I don’t want to offend are the farmers) He jumps up and looks for water…  Bancini and Aunt Bee keep shooting looks at each other and him.   Haysus finally finds a nurse who gives him a cup of ice, a Coke and a straw.  BONUS… and it’s free!!!  Haysus returns to his love seat and proceeds to drink, very loudly,  half of the Coke out of the cup before he decides to unwrap the straw.  As jittery as Haysus is, the whole performance was worth the wait.  As he finally settles himself the speaker says “MR. HAYSUS (they really didn’t say Haysus), PLEASE REPORT TO THE TREATMENT AREA!  He jumps up and looked puzzled.  We gather it was his first day because he needed a lot of help finding the treatment area.  Ironically it was Aunt Bee screaming at the top of her whisper that got him straightened out!  As Haysus exits from ear shot, Aunt Bee looks at Bancini and says “There’s no reason to for him to have his hair that long, it looks dirty”.  Bancini smiles and replies, “He looks like he hasn’t taken a bath in a week”. Aunt Bee says, “Its disgusting”.  They look at me, I smile, yes I smiled a Bancini smile.  I’m thinking to myself, here you have two people who’s lives have been impacted by the “Big C” (sorry Laura), intaking Chemotherapy and bombarded by radiation that kills living cells, their future unknown, the impact on their families unknown, the pain, the anguish and all the other things that accompany this disease unknown and still, their biggest complaint is the length of Haysus’ hair.  Maybe it’s because Aunt Bee is losing hers, maybe it’s because Bancini can’t walk without a walker but whatever the reason I applaud Haysus and his continuing search for the ultimate thirst quencher!  I think to myself, “Why doesn’t that speaker call my name!!!!