Seemed Funny At the Time...

After breast cancer surgery last May, I began radiation treatments.  As scared as I was, this turned out to be a rather benign (forgive the pun) experience.

Each day I reported to the oncology/radiation center, changed my clothes, and sat in the women's waiting area.  Sometimes there would be other women waiting with me, and other times I sat alone.  On no day did I wait longer than five minutes (they ran a really tight ship) before I was greeted by a tech and asked to 'come back' to the treatment room.  First, however, in an anteroom, and with my picture up on a rather large computer screen I was told to identify myself and state my date of birth.  Every single day by the same people who saw me every single day.  Same protocol.

While all were impressively courteous and competent, some were kinder than others.  There was one tech, who while totally professional, was not as openly responsive as the others.  

Two weeks into treatments and called back once again by this same person to respond to name and date of birth, I said, "Dresilda Flackenbush".  No smile; just, "No, you are not."

The next day she called me back, asked me my name and date of birth.  This time I replied, "Bernadetta Mangiacavalle." (translated from Italian: Bernadette the horse eater).  No laugh; no smile; and then it hit me:  I was provoking her and she could kill me.