I know it should be the other way around but it isn’t.Įach time I come in here I try to understand why they’re so crabby. Usually, I can find a better joke, or sympathetic questions which get the nurses on my side, or a compliment on their hair or jewelry. “Want a pillow?”ĭid I get the days wrong? Is that what offended her? I’m Jewish, the kind of sequestered upbringing that required avoiding even contiguous pavement when it came to churches. She tosses the wrapper into the trash, then hands me the remote for the overhead TV. She looks confused as she tapes the bandage over my port. I’m referring to the Gemzar going into my vein, and to the more truncated recovery time on this particular chemo regimen, but the nurse doesn’t laugh. “Crucified on Friday, risen on Sunday,” I say as the nurse sticks the IV into my arm.
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