It all started with the power-walk in the parking structure. Before I had my keys in my bag and my purse slung over my shoulder, a blonde blur shot past me, walking and breathing, walking and breathing, swinging her arms. I wasn’t sure if we were late, or what, but we were hauling!
“Need to get a little exercise today,” she called over her shoulder, as she all but left me in her dust in the Beaumont Hospital South Deck Skywalk. “Gotta get some of my numbers up.” So away we went.
I think it’s fair to say that, as a first-time Chemo Buddy for Amy, I had no idea where I was headed. Does anyone ever really know where they’re headed when they’re with Amy? After trailing behind Power Walker Woman through doors and around corners, jogging in place on elevators, sneaking through secret short-cuts and creeping up and down miles of hallway, I felt just like a hamster in a habitrail. But the best was yet to come.
That’s when Amy came upon a table, dropped her 37-ton purse, glanced back at me and said, “Watch my stuff,” then completely disappeared. I saw her briefly as she bounced down the first flight of stairs, arms in motion, jogging down two floors to the reception area beneath us. I could hear her footsteps tap-tat-tapping on the stairs until they faded away to nothing. A moment passed, and, just as I was wondering where she’d gone, I heard them again: tap-TAP-TAP!
I peered over the banister and there was the blonde blur, bouncing back up the steps. “Ready,” she said, a little out of breath. “You got my stuff?”
I grabbed her purse and looked up to answer, but she didn’t hear me. She was already way ahead of me… again.
For Part I of this post, see “Begging For Chemo,” Feb. 22, 2011.
Copyright 2011, Jennifer Amprim Wolf