The oddest thing about being in a cancer center is that questions that would be considered "rude" on the "outside" are simply seen as normal here. I've joked on more than one occasion that every member of the Moffitt staff knows exactly how old I am, simply because I'm aked my date of birth every time an appointment is made, a procedure is performed, or a new medicine is hung or administered.

It's also not unusual for another patient to bluntly ask "what do YOU have?". Although synovial sarcoma of an internal organ is often hard to explain, I rarely mind. People want to share here, and any comfort I can provide through listening and sharing of my experiences is a welcome change from the constant self-focus of being "stuck" in the hospital.

Being in a life-threatening situation seems to strip people of social barriers. People say "I love you" more and they say the things that need to be said. You find out which friends and family are really "there" and who simply would say that they're there for you.

Maybe we all need a little cancer in our lives. Or maybe we just need to stop waiting for the crisis to come, to stop worrying about being rude and start wondering what another person's story is and how much they need to tell it.

Labels: Cancer, chemotherapy