So every Wednesday we hop this jet to go to Butte, Montana, where my wife has her chemotherapy session at an oncology center.
Not really. It’s just I don’t want to hurt the feelings of the nice people we counter weekly at the local clinic. Besides, I don’t want anyone coming up to me and ask, “Are you talking about me?” Of course not. I’m talking about those people in Butte, Montana.
In particular, my wife and I have noticed one old woman who has a fascinating obsession with herself. Now both of us are in our late sixties so we certainly hold no prejudices because this person has wrinkles. We have wrinkles too. It’s her personality that intrigues us so much. And I’m sure she had this same personality when she was a cute little girl who pitched a fit when she didn’t get her way.
When she walks in the door, the staff acts as though a movie star has arrived and they rush to give her hugs. They pull her file and put it in a rack which the staffer picks up and calls back the next patient to the therapy session.
At one point my wife leans over to whisper, “Did you see that? She moved her folder to the front of the rack so she could be the next person to be called.”
Once in the therapy room, she wants something to read, something to drink and someone to help her to the rest room. The staffer tells her to push a button in the rest room. Someone will see the red light and come in to help. That’s too complicated. She opens the door and screams for help. We thought she was injured. Nope, just wanted someone to come running.
Another time my wife watched her knock over a cup of water and yell for someone to come to clean up the mess.
These antics cut into my wife’s naptime. If the diva is not there my wife is likely to drift off asleep as the fluids drip through the IV line.
As she puts it, “I can’t sleep because I have to see what the old broad does next. I have to get my laughs somewhere.”
So there you have it. With cancer treatment some people are afraid, some are angry, but my wife prefers to laugh.
That is, laugh at the people in Butte, Montana, not where we live.