The Way They Look

It's always in the eyes of strangers but sometimes includes their mouths, too, the way they look at me when I pass them in the grocery store, at Kaiser, or on the street. Occasionally it's in their words, or lack of them, as well. Women tend to smile more than men do. Most children are especially forthright and curious. And most teenagers look away, except for a whole group of them I met once at the motel in Santa Nella.

I was swimming in the pool when they came down and began throwing a football, shrieking and laughing. Several of them initiated conversation with me, both young men and young women, and I discovered they were a Christian youth group from Washington heading to Mexico to build houses for the poor. What positive energy! Obviously, they didn't care that I was bald and I wondered if some of them even noticed at all.

I get the most direct eye contact at Kaiser from people I pass in the hallways with looks that say, "I know what you're going through," or "Hang in there, I've been there, too." Sometimes there's so much compassion in a face that I want to cry. Sometimes there are so many sick people though that I want to cry for that reason too! The Kaiser nurses have been phenomenal the way they treat me. I'm truly nurtured when I go in for treatment.

Throughout this treatment, not all communications have been positive though. Ask anyone who knows me well and they'll tell you that I'm not defensive or judgmental. In fact, I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes I'm even naive to the point of frustrating other family members. But recently in a grocery, a mother and her son were talking about me, and I know it was about me because they were rude enough to stare and point several times while they did it. I was in line, paying for groceries, and they were across the aisle waiting for customer service. The boy looked about 11 or 12. I had the impression he was asking his mother innocent questions. But, since we live in California and some women choose to shave their heads, I felt strongly that this mother was giving her son false information. Her face held a combination of derision and sarcasm. They continued to stare at me and I stared back. It's the only time I've wanted to confront someone directly for their rudeness, but I didn't. I let it pass.

This other experience was so painful it made me cry, for a long time. Granted, I had just been recently diagnosed with cancer, but the insensitivity of the other person hurt me to the core, and I'm sure she didn't have a clue. I'm only writing about this as catharthis.

I was in Idaho with Larry. We had gone to see Mother before my surgery. One night we were sittting outside bar-be-cu-ing with family when a woman drove up to drop off one of the girls who had been babysitting for her. She and another family member stepped over to the side of the car and began talking, out of earshot. It was another one of those instances where I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt, realizing that I felt ultra sensitive and ultra vulnerable, but the women were not only glancing back and forth at me whilethey talked, one of them even had her mouth covered with her hand--as if Icould hear her. Eventually they stopped talked and wandered over. The woman who had driven up made it a point to tell Larry, "Well, I remember you from last year but (looking at me) I don't remember you." Insensitivity #1 since I wasn't with Larry on that trip. After a bit of chit chat she told Larry how good it was to see him, blah, blah blah, and then Insensitivity #2, her eyes literally flickered past me so briefly that I still feel like crying when I think about it. I think she said, "Nice meeting you," or some usual comment, but she was looking at the sky, or the garage behind me, anywhere but at me. I, however, was looking her in the face. Shortly after she drove away, I excused myself from the table, crying and went to the trailer. Larry came after me and as we talked about it I realized that the way she didn't see me, she might as well have said, "I don't have to acknowledge you're presence because you'll be dead soon." Now granted, I have no way of knowing what she was really thinking. But the way she interacted with me hurt more than I can say. My diagnosis was new. I was still in shock and felt bewildered, sad, why me? what if? not to mention a whole lot of fear. That night I felt like a soon-to-be non-person. If anything, I'm learning to be even more sensitive to others through this experience. Ok. So I put it out there and I'm not going to give it any more energy.

Last week a man came up to me in a hardware store with a smile on his face and said, "I like your hair-cut." I told him that it wasn't mine by choice. He explained that he and his wife had just gone through breast cancer with her; we stood and talked together for awhile. Their message was basically to hang tough because the end was in sight, that life would get better soon. Kevin and Christine. They both hugged me. Rachel and I were both crying when we walked away, so touched by the kindness of strangers.