The Journey

Staring at the ceiling, motionless, I gradually became aware of little pools of water collecting in my ears.  This was a strange and itchy sort of feeling so it was some time before I realized I was crying. I wondered if they could see me in the little window.  I hoped not since I was supposed to be brave and, especially since this was my last treatment, happy.  After all, I had lived up to everyone's expectations through the surgery, the chemotherapy and now, finally, the radiation.  No one had known how frightened I really was.  In a few minutes the machine stopped - the click of the lock releasing on the thick metal door signaled that it was over.  Suddenly there was a rush of activity and everyone was smiling.  Me too, but those bloody tears wouldn't stop.  Everyone pretended not to notice, after all this was a joyous occasion.  Even my neck was wet, streaking the inky black marks - radiation "guidelines."  Yes, I thought, as I got dressed, I had been a good little girl.  I had made everyone happy.