Radiation Winter

The wall of windows in the waiting room for radiation patients overlooks a small garden.  The edge of the garden is bordered with redwood trees, giving seclusion from the street.  The small private garden is planted with sword ferns and a petite Japanese maple.  It is absolutely lovely, standing about five feet tall and close to the window, with beautiful five-pointed leaves.

While some patients wait their turn to be called by the radiation techs, they read or watch the TV.  I like to sit on the small upholstered bench closest to the window where just outside is the tree.  My whole first week I sat in the same spot, next to the tree.

I wait in my hospital gown, a warm blanket wrapped around my shoulders, and look out.  The lacy leaves in burnt orange and blood red are like a wild explosion against the beige and neutral decor of the waiting room.  The tree waits with me, keeps me company and makes me feel peaceful and content.

Today I changed my clothes, got my warm blanket and took my seat.  Hello Tree.

Poor baby!  What happened to you?

I wanted to run outside and wrap her in my blanket.

Every single leaf was scattered on the ground and wet with rain, like a beautiful soaked carpet.  With just its branches exposed, Tree looked cold and stark and sad, compared to all her previous autumn glory just last Friday.

I know this feeling.

Tree whispered to me today, reminding me this is a season in my life.  Be patient.  Winter will end, and Spring will come again.

and we will bloom.