As I stood in line at the pharmacy counter, I contemplated the astronomical bill I was about to pay for the poison I had to give. Ugh… Chemo…
As the very young pharmacy tech scanned the medicines into the register, I asked him if I could get a few syringes…preferably five as I have to discard them after giving each chemo dose. He took a small bag and, to my surprise, began to fill it with handfuls of syringes. After a moment, he handed me the small bag, stuffed to the brim. I stared at him for a moment and then protested; “Oh my goodness, you don’t have to…” and this boy stopped me and quietly said “Just take them. Please. You can’t have a very easy life. This is the least we can do.”
I had to keep from crying as I exited the store …and then I had to laugh a little bit that a bag full of plastic medicine dispensers could make me cry. But it was far more than the bits of disposable plastic – it was a most gracious understanding of an incomprehensible situation. It was…compassion.
Moment by moment.
