Eyes of Cancer

I should be sleeping, but I can’t. You see, as I snuggled into my bed, turned myself over, scrunched myself into the fetal and shut my eyes, an image from today was the first thing I saw. That image then brought on feelings and thoughts from earlier in the day. Feelings and thoughts that stayed with me for about an hour or so, and then wandered into the oblivion as requests and tasks took on the rest of my thinking power. The image I saw was from a moment that lasted no more than 15 seconds, but I have no doubt will stick with me far long than that.

As I was driving on my lunch break from my work to my house, I drove past the Fred Hutch Cancer Research Center. There are some days I drive past the center, thinking about all the intelligent souls in there working away at putting an end to this God awful illness, but most days I’m just focused on how long it will take everyone making a right turn into the parking lot so I can be on my way to work. A blue minivan pulled out just before me and again I thought nothing of it. As I came along side the van, in the corner of my eye I saw a little boy with his chin to his hand, gazing out the window. I took a quick look and noticed that his head was bald, his eyes were heavy with dark circles and his skin was very fair. It was within milliseconds that it registered: this little boy is battling cancer.

In the quick moment it took for me to look over and make the sudden observation, the boy locked eyes on me and in that moment I felt like I could see all the way down to the core of his soul. I could see the sadness in his face, the fear, the lonliness. I know it seems strange to say you can see so much in such a quick amount of time, but it was almost impossible not to. I quickly turned away and back at the road, and as his car moved forward continued to look, as he kept his gaze to the ground outside. That’s when the flood of thoughts came rushing.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he had just come from the Hutch with bad news, or perhaps he’d just left the Hutch School and didn’t have a good day, just like any other kid who sometimes doesn’t have a good day at school. I wondered what kind of cancer he had, wondered how old he was when he found out, wondered what his name was, where he was from (although the minivan had an Everett frame around the plate). I began to felt a sense of comfort knowing that if they were in fact from up North, they were lucky to be near the Hutch given his circumstances.

I then began to think about what he must be going through. I couldn’t help but feel angry all of the sudden, and in fact, that’s the feeling I had when I shut my eyes and the image came to mind- anger. It just seems to wrong that something beyond the control of anyone, yet a child for that matter can consume a person. It just pisses me off that this boy, who already had to deal with the ins and outs of being a child, yet still have that freedom and energy that comes with it, had them both ripped away to chemo and cancer research centers (although they are wonderful and do great things).

I started to think about how many people in the world and even in my life alone cancer affects or has affected, but something kept bringing me back to that little boy and that look in his eye, the expression on his face and the placement of his hands on his chin. I wish I had smiled at that little boy. I wish instead of pretending like I didn’t look over at him, for fear he’d think I was staring at him because he was bald, I had smiled and maybe for at least that moment, it could’ve brought a smile to his face.

So, whoever that little boy is, and wherever he is tonight- he’s got a chick in Queen Anne smiling for him.