As I entered the radiation room at Queens Hospital for the first time, I shivered. More than a dozen people waited for their cancer tumors to get zapped. Reluctantly, I joined their ranks.
I felt shy and scared. Once I sat down and I glanced around, it amazed me to see the wide variety of ages and races. I wondered, What kind of cancer are they here for? It seemed as if we had all been committed to this room, almost like prisoners. We each had to do our time and, afterward, hopefully, emerge cleansed and free.
I went every weekday for three weeks. I rarely saw the same people, so I didn’t strike up an acquaintance with anyone. However, after the first week, much to my surprise, my attitude changed.
From macabre curiosity, I began to realize that it didn’t matter what kind of cancer a person endured. Regardless, all of us faced our mortality while we waited. What if the treatment didn’t work? It didn’t seem easy for any of us to sit in that room.
One day, I thought about my meditation teacher and realized that I had a perfect opportunity to practice the compassion prayer he had taught me, called the Metta prayer. According to his instructions, I mentally surrounded myself and every person with Medicine Buddha’s gold healing light. I imagined that we were cured, all mental discomfort and all physical illness gone. I wished for everyone’s health and happiness. Whether my prayers made any difference or not, I felt much calmer and friendlier during the next two weeks. What better way to spend my time with fellow sufferers, rather than feeling scared and sorry for myself?
As for the radiation experience itself, I couldn’t imagine the quiet, chilly machine burning my skin. Luckily, it never did, although a friend who went through the same procedure a year later suffered second degree burns. When I lay on the cool metal table, it always smelled like a strong cleaning agent.
The machine’s “brain,” with its red lights blinking, resembled “Hal,” the super-computer from the movie “2001.” But instead of naming the radiation apparatus Hal, I came to call it Clorox and held friendly mental chats with it. Nice to see you today, Clorox. You must meet a lot of folks. Who did you meet today? For years, I have giggled when anyone mentioned that cleanser or radiation. Even a little humor helped that difficult process go more smoothly.
I’ve always been thankful for those three weeks with a roomful of fellow cancer patients who helped me open my heart a little wider. That was the first time I’d ever used the Metta prayer with a group of strangers. I hadn’t known I could extend compassion to others in that way. Now that I know I can do it, I’ve expanded the prayer to even larger groups.
Real Life – Real Laughs:
Humor When You Need It Most
Cate Burns’ thirty-eight non-fiction stories of heartfelt humor explore society’s foibles and personal snafus with insightful zingers that will delight readers. Burns casts an unstinting, cock-eyed look at personal change, friendship, sanity and courage.
“Absolutely LOVE the descriptions in this work. Very, very, very clever and, dare I say it? -unique. This is refreshing, funny, inventive and delightful.” -Sharon Whitehill, Ph. D.
