Entry #4 of this neverending story
One of the things that surprised me about the city was how helpful people would be when you really needed it. My first night in the city, I took a city bus to an acquaintance's apt. downtown. Only I didn't go downtown--the bus went uptown. By the time I realized it, I was in that mythical place called Harlem. I asked the driver how to get downtown, and he laughed. Can't really do it from here, and he proceeded to give me a an indecipherable description of what I would have to do to get to where I wanted to go. I got off and looked for a bus going the opposite direction, and for the first time felt scared and out of place. I definitely looked out of place and lost. Before I knew it, two middleaged women, very black and very large, approached me, each took one of my arms, and as one force, they escorted me five blocks to a downtown bus. As we moved along, one explained how she was on the bus and heard the runaround the driver gave me. She said, "He had no right to do that to you. Obviously you are new here and you could get yourself in some trouble wandering around here at night." So she had gotten off the bus and had enlisted another woman
to get me where I needed to go. When the downtown bus came, I thanked them and they reminded me to "Come back up here in the daytime," and visit all the places they had recommended. I did just that. Now in New Hampshire I would like to think that someone would help out that way, but I doubt it. New Englanders keep to themselves and watch, rather than interact with "flatlanders." oh, if I was getting attacked, someone would intervene; but otherwise, they'd just look at me and think, "What's that fool think she's doing?" We really learn to become observers in the country. We know everyone else's business, or think we do, from what we see.What we haven't seen we can easily fill in with our well-honed, vivid imaginations. Winters are long in New Hampshire, and isolating, so we get plenty of practice.
Now there are some differences at the Cancer Institute here in the city. There are the new people who gather in the reception area waiting to register before proceeding to another floor. It never ceases to stun and horrify me how many women are there, all ages, everyday--many more than men. I have tried to smile, or make eye contact with the new people as I wait to get called for blood work on the same floor, but it doesn't happen. I guess I look like an "oldtimer" to them since I have no hair, and perhaps I frighten them. The people who have been going for treatments when I have, or have had the regular bloodwork for platelet count when I have, become warmer toward acknowledging, and often, interacting with me. Sometimes we nod, give that knowing look of "I wish I were anywhere but here," or, the more direct encouragement of, "stay strong." We of the chemo crowd become experts at discerningt who has wigs,who will need wigs soon, and who is presumptuous enough to go without. I tend to initiate a little pertinent conversation with those who can still smile. Those who can't and who look like they have given up, I stay far away from--those are deadly vibes. Can't afford to go there.
Then there are the people you know outside of the Cancer Institute. I have found that it was a blessing in disguise when I relinguished my wig after only one foray into the workplace. People felt freer to approach me and ask me whatever was on their mind rather than avoid me or be clearly uncomfortable. For the first week, I got questions and positive responses--oh I had a couple who started that missionary demeanor of poor you, I'm so sad for you responses as they look deeply and sadly into my eyes. Those reactions sap any positive energy I've mustered and those people are deadly for me. But like I said, more were just concerned but supportive and could thereafter smile, joke, and be regular with me. That's what I need the most, humor. Works every time to put things into perspective--much like my two cats attacking my wig and styrofoam head as if they were wild things. There are still a few people who continue to avoid me. Twice I stood in front of two different people just to see if that would force at least fleeting eye contact, but I almost got run over both times and it pissed me off royally. So shame on them, and shame on me for even caring. And then there is the real wonderous change of men calling me miss instead of maam. Sure makes me feel younger and sexier.
So what are the insights from all of this? If you put out positive vibes, you get them in return from those who are open. If they aren't, if they are too caught up in their own heads, then let it go. But overall, I have become much more outgoing in the city than in the country. Maybe it is a necessity when you're bumping into so many people all the time. And yet, there is still a sense of privacy in the city that is not available in the country. I will pursue this thought in my next entry.
to get me where I needed to go. When the downtown bus came, I thanked them and they reminded me to "Come back up here in the daytime," and visit all the places they had recommended. I did just that. Now in New Hampshire I would like to think that someone would help out that way, but I doubt it. New Englanders keep to themselves and watch, rather than interact with "flatlanders." oh, if I was getting attacked, someone would intervene; but otherwise, they'd just look at me and think, "What's that fool think she's doing?" We really learn to become observers in the country. We know everyone else's business, or think we do, from what we see.What we haven't seen we can easily fill in with our well-honed, vivid imaginations. Winters are long in New Hampshire, and isolating, so we get plenty of practice.
Now there are some differences at the Cancer Institute here in the city. There are the new people who gather in the reception area waiting to register before proceeding to another floor. It never ceases to stun and horrify me how many women are there, all ages, everyday--many more than men. I have tried to smile, or make eye contact with the new people as I wait to get called for blood work on the same floor, but it doesn't happen. I guess I look like an "oldtimer" to them since I have no hair, and perhaps I frighten them. The people who have been going for treatments when I have, or have had the regular bloodwork for platelet count when I have, become warmer toward acknowledging, and often, interacting with me. Sometimes we nod, give that knowing look of "I wish I were anywhere but here," or, the more direct encouragement of, "stay strong." We of the chemo crowd become experts at discerningt who has wigs,who will need wigs soon, and who is presumptuous enough to go without. I tend to initiate a little pertinent conversation with those who can still smile. Those who can't and who look like they have given up, I stay far away from--those are deadly vibes. Can't afford to go there.
Then there are the people you know outside of the Cancer Institute. I have found that it was a blessing in disguise when I relinguished my wig after only one foray into the workplace. People felt freer to approach me and ask me whatever was on their mind rather than avoid me or be clearly uncomfortable. For the first week, I got questions and positive responses--oh I had a couple who started that missionary demeanor of poor you, I'm so sad for you responses as they look deeply and sadly into my eyes. Those reactions sap any positive energy I've mustered and those people are deadly for me. But like I said, more were just concerned but supportive and could thereafter smile, joke, and be regular with me. That's what I need the most, humor. Works every time to put things into perspective--much like my two cats attacking my wig and styrofoam head as if they were wild things. There are still a few people who continue to avoid me. Twice I stood in front of two different people just to see if that would force at least fleeting eye contact, but I almost got run over both times and it pissed me off royally. So shame on them, and shame on me for even caring. And then there is the real wonderous change of men calling me miss instead of maam. Sure makes me feel younger and sexier.
So what are the insights from all of this? If you put out positive vibes, you get them in return from those who are open. If they aren't, if they are too caught up in their own heads, then let it go. But overall, I have become much more outgoing in the city than in the country. Maybe it is a necessity when you're bumping into so many people all the time. And yet, there is still a sense of privacy in the city that is not available in the country. I will pursue this thought in my next entry.
posted by AYankee @ 9:48 PM
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