Yesterday I walked out of this cancer center for the last time. It will be emptied out and boarded up in two weeks. There is a brand new top-of-the line modern cancer facility sparkling clean and ready on the other side of the hospital which has been in the works for years. “Good riddance.” my husband commented last night when I told him about the change. “That place was a dive.”
Yep, it really was.
But I still felt sad.
This was the place I came that dark day when I met my oncologist for the first time.
That automatic sliding door I walked through, I don’t even know how many times. I stretch my arm out and point to the door like I had magic powers and the door would open.
It opened every single time.
I lived through a plethora of emotions and ailments walking through the walls of this old place;
anger, terror, sorrow, fatigue, exhaustion, elation,…aches and pains, bandages, nausea, hair loss, strange illnesses, low white blood counts, radiated, and so many I can’t even list…
I sat behind the curved windows in those green chemo chairs wishing and pleading this was a nightmare that I would someday wake from.
I never did wake up.
It was real.
I met people who had real courage.
Some lived long.
Some lived short.
But we lived facing cancer.
Yesterday I began reminiscing to an infusion nurse as I completed my appointment. We both began to get teary eyed.
I pointed one last time at the automatic door to magically open for me. It made that whoosh sound and a blast of New England winter air filled my lungs. I stood there looking at my cancer center.
The one which held my story.
I hated it.
I loved it.
When my car was retrieved from valet I got in, turned the corner and sped away. I pretty much cried on my way home every single time I left that building.
Today I cried one last time because it grew to be my familiar cancer home with my cancer family there.
They will still be there when I come back.
But not where my story began…
Change is good.