April 7, 2009 Today I let myself down.

We left Prescott as usual, early enough to avoid traffic, grab a bite to eat and arrive early for my 6:15 radiation therapy appointment. We never want to be late and mess up every one's schedule.
When I walked into the waiting room there was a rather frazzled looking woman sitting there alone. I'd seen 5:45 Carol go in so I walked on back and changed into a gown and sat down to wait. On time for a change I think to myself. The woman from the waiting room shows up and changes into a gown. "Hi!" I say flashing my friendly grin. "Are you new?" "I'm usually here in the daytime," she states jerking her head at me and acting very annoyed. She opens a book and resumes marking the pages with her red pen. "What time is your appointment?" I try again. But she dismisses me with a flick of her wrist in my direction, mumbling something about needing to see the doctor "and everything".
6:00 April shows up with her usual smile, gets changed and sits down with me. We catch up a bit. Carol returns complaining she feels like a crispy critter so we discuss skin regimens. No-appointment 'Sally' shakes her long red wig and turns her body away from us, obviously annoyed by all this friendly chatter. We three queens roll our eyes at each other as if to say "who is she?" Carol leaves and April is called in.
A few minutes later, my miserable roommate catches the attention of a technician and asks how much longer. "I've got children at home," she adds. I picture a couple of grade schoolers fending for themselves eating sugared cereal for dinner. "I'll check," the techie says and returns moments later. "10 minutes," she says.
I begin to seethe. It appears I am being bumped by Miss don't-talk-to-me-you-bother-me. It's not right, I say to myself. The 6:15-right-after-April is my time slot. We left home at 2:45 just to be here with room to spare so I don't hold anyone up! She takes a call from her child and makes sure she's doing her Physics homework. Not grade schoolers, I surmise.
I happen to know 6:30 Toby is through with her treatment. Let her have that spot. Right AFTER ME, I think. But no, April returns and "Adrienne" is called. "You're not treating me next," ask? No, says the technician. Adrienne is next. Walking from the room Adrienne spins her head back at me looking not unlike Linda Blair in the Exorcist. "I've waited 2 hours" she spits. "And I have a two hour drive home," I say to her but she's around the corner and I'm left to fume at the unfairness of it all.
I storm out into the waiting room to complain to my husband explaining how this woman, who has missed her morning appointment, has just squeezed me out. He patiently rubs my arm smoothing my rumpled feathers. I'm spewing on about the scheduling in this joint and all the waiting I've done and how dare they give her my time just because she missed her time. Then I add in all honesty, I wouldn't be feeling like this if she hadn't been so cold and rude to me. I haven't yet admitted that I'm behaving in a horribly UNgracious manner, shamefully inflexible and inexcusably witchy.
When it's my turn, there is no apology for keeping ME waiting. I plan to give them the cold shoulder which is actually literal in this meat locker temperature of a treatment room. But I don't last. I make an effort to be friendly.
WHAT ABOUT ME? WHAT ABOUT ME? At once, I'm disgusted and disappointed in my own behavior. What about you Kathleen? God forgive me. What an ungracious shrew I've been. I am so sorry I tell Him. How can I pass the big test of accepting the burden of cancer and fail this little one? You've never liked people who butt in line, I rationalize. Maybe it's my chemo brain fog, I justify. Or maybe it's my sin nature. Please forgive me, I attempt to telepathically say to Adrienne. Perhaps she is a single Mom under tremendous pressure to work, raise her children and deal with cancer.
Thank You, Lord, for forgiveness. Thank You for a fresh chance to do better next time.