garrulous

The trip to and from the hospital was pretty straightforward. Driving and parking weren't a problem, and Mom's session began promptly at 2:10.

Mom and I had arrived about 25 minutes early, and the waiting room was fairly full. We found two chairs against the wall, separated by a small table on which were piled some magazines. Before I sat in one of the chairs, I asked the lady next to it whether anyone was sitting there and hoping to come back to it.

Little did I know that I had flipped on a switch. From the moment I addressed the woman until Mom came back out from radiotherapy, I was subjected to an constant stream of verbiage. The discourse ranged over a variety of subjects, with special attention paid to the virtues of marijuana over cigarettes ("What I wouldn't do for a doobie!"). The lady noted that marijuana is easier to grow and process than tobacco-- a fact I knew from seeing the news about foreigners in Korea who stupidly attempt to grow their own weed. She also (1) told me I needed to get Mom enrolled quickly in various "Life with Cancer" programs, (2) gave me advice on where to find the best wigs and bandannas for Mom, and (3) told me something about her own cancer.

Though I was a bit turned off by how chatty the lady was, I also saw that she was a kind soul and very well-intended. With nothing to do other than wait for Mom, I sat and nodded politely as my interlocutor talked and talked. When Mom came out of therapy and we ambled off to the elevator, I turned and waved to the lady. She's in her final week of radiotherapy; I wish her well.


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