The Other Girl

I went to the hospital yesterday for another round of chemo. As I walked into the treatment room, there she was, a girl probably around my age. She was wearing a bandanna over her bald head and was looking at me, but not staring, as if we had encountered eachother before. Our eyes met, and at that moment something happened. Let me explain. I felt a strange connection with her, a special bond. I felt as if I had been inducted into her sorority. We had both been through the same chemo "hazing," further unified by our scarves and bandannas, tied neatly by well mastered and strategically placed knots. The similarities in our facial features were striking: the paleness, the recessed cheekbones, and the thinning or absence of eyebrows. Months ago, we probably looked like two completely different people. Yesterday we could have been twins. She smiled at me, radiating a special warmth. We had a world in common that we could have spoken about, yet words were not spoken, for none were needed.

A medical update: