That's how he greeted me, the tall, handsome preacher with whom we share our early morning radiation appointment. He and I were both awake early this morning. Difference was, I was thinking of myself. He was thinking of me. Mrs P and I have come to know several folks in the morning.
There's the couple who are only two days away from their last treatment. He goes back, she smiles and chats about their farm and how long they've been married and how much she loves him.
There's the fellow who comes by himself. He has an ugly looking open sore place on the back of his head. It looks painful, but he is always laughing and joking.
Then there's the lovely lady whose oral cancer was so bad that they had to remove most of her gums. She had her chemo changed yesterday because the side affects were hurting her so much.She felt much better today, and I was relieved to hear it. She always follows right after me to the treatment room, and one morning she gave me a high five on her way past. It was the highlight of my day.
I don't know most of these people's names - the man with one ear, the man whose jaw is missing, the lady who sits quietly waiting for her momma every day. We don't know one another's names, but we know our stories.
Those stories are what binds us. Always, always it is our stories that bind us.
And this morning, he prayed for me. That is his story. His pain leads him to the sufferings of those he loves, though he barely knows them. Today, I'm praying for him, the handsome preacher and his beautiful wife. We share a diagnosis and are on very similar treatment plans. He and I began and will finish at nearly the same time. Our side effects seem to run parallel, and our good and bad days even coincide sometimes.God bless him. We are walking a dark road, but we are walking together.
That's our story.
Peace,
pennsy
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