Several radiation therapists work together as a team to prepare Corinne for each treatment. Watching the quality of the teamwork is comforting, and I feel better that different sets of knowledgeable eyes are overseeing the whole process.

Unlike chemotherapy where everyone sits together for hours in a large room as medicine drips through the tubes, radiation patients are treated individually, one at a time. There is usually a queue of gowned women, lined up for their turn, waiting in the dressing room. I find it interesting that Corinne has had far more meaningful conversations with other patients during the brief waits in the dressing room than she ever did sitting by someone all day in chemotherapy.

Perhaps it is the briefness of the contact combined with the daily connection that spurs this. Maybe it’s because I’m not there. Or, maybe there’s something about waiting for radiation.

Corinne met a young woman with breast cancer who came in crying. Her mother
blamed her for getting the cancer then, on the drive to the clinic, her husband had snapped at her to “Get over it already.” Corinne gave the woman her phone number “just in case you need someone to beat up that husband.” Another patient went out and arranged for the woman to see the doctor about making contact with a support group.

These women were active, aggressive and protective of their own. I felt really good hearing about it.