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(Warren Zevon reference)

While I waited today, a man walked in to the lounge area with what I thought was a clown nose. I did. I really did. I suspected immediately that he was hiding his real nose because of damage to it. He had some other issues, too. But the nose stood out. It was extremely large and it was a dark brown, leading me to my conclusion that it was a mask of some kind.

But it was not. It was his nose.

I wanted to ask him what cancer caused such a problem, but of course you do not just walk up to someone and ask such a thing.

He had black hair, so black that it did not take long to figure out that he was either wearing a wig or had painted his hair. Someone dear to me tried that once, painting his hair, and it did not work out well. So I know it when I see it. And the woman he was with, she was overweight and dressed in long gray hair, in a ponytail, and, it turns out, was also in for treatment.

But she was natural. The gray was hers. And she had all of it. I guess that makes a difference.

He was comforting to her, and advisory as well, telling her that he had to go one way while she went another. He seemed comfortable with this, while she maybe was not so happy to have him go away from her at this critical time. Just a feeling I had.

The thing is, I was just waiting for some results, and here they were, proud and brave and dealing with it.

I get so wrapped up in my speech and my eating thing and some self-pity now and then, I admit, and here they were, him, especially, out in public and ignoring everything but living and working to live. I could actually FEEL the love between them, and the acceptance, and, to be honest, the love in the room

I was embarrassed of myself, but also thankful, not just for myself, but for them.

Isn’t that odd? Isn’t that wonderful?