Creamy white

It's Tuesday morning.  The wintry-spring clouds hang low and gray-a-fy everything. Dirty piles of snow can be seen at corners of parking lots and edges of driveways where this winter's record snowfall has been pushed time and time again over the past four months.  I arrive early at the infusion center. Warm in my car with my e-Bible I blanket myself with His words of promise and of peace.  Periodically someone else pulls into the parking lot.  Time pressed staff barreling down past and behind the building.  Patients slowly and deliberately choosing a spot, as close to the entrance door as possible.

It's the patients who have my attention.  I didn't quite notice it at first.  Perhaps it was the repetition of the occurrence and the quietness in which I sat.  First, an older gentleman, I'd guess in his seventies.  He comes alone.  The minivan door slowly opens and he proceeds to climb out of the driver's seat.  He clicks his automatic door lock and then proceeds to the front door.  I see his face.  It is gray-white. Deep reflective eyes. He walks with a slightly wider stance than necessary. His feet come to a secure footing before he lifts the next tennis shoe covered foot.  It is a slightly undulating stroll.

The next was an older woman with a chemo identifying cap, driven by who I'm guessing is, her daughter.  The pasty white woman says not a word to her driver but proceeds to clamber out of the car and walk slowly towards the building.  Her steps are completely gravity-set before she too lifts her next foot. And on she walks.

And the next... and the next....white, grey, pasty, color-less complexion.  Little, if any hair. And this characteristic deliberate safe walk.

And I wonder, do I look like this?  No wonder people stare.

I look in the mirror,  No. Minutes before my ninth chemo I have some color. I even still have most of my eyebrows and eyelashes. And I think, I just walked 3/4 of a mile yesterday, albeit kinda slow.  But is that where I am heading?

My infusion seemed to go quick. Only 2.5 hours with a drug-induced 45 minute nap.  Next week is the long one again.

I say "goodbye" to all the wonderful nurses and walk towards the exit.  I have to go through the waiting room in order to reach the parking lot.  I see more faces of dulled complexions, deep welled eyes.  No one walking now, only waiting.

The sky is still gray and cloud covered as I place one foot in front of the other carefully making sure each foot placement is secure.  My medications make me a little buzzed and unsteady. I throw my blanket, juice cup, MP3 player and purse in the back seat.  When I get into the car I catch my breath.  For an instant I see my reflection in the rearview mirrow.

Yes, you guessed it.  Mayonnaise white.

"Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things." Phillipians 4:8 (ESV)

Today's Journey Joys: melting snow, chickens free ranging again, Snowy's eye healing, Lynne's amazing pizza regatoni casserole, soul nourishment in the Word.