Up we went, suspended in the air, slowly making our way to the city on the hill. Canon in D sang to me through my headphones. Darkness surrounded the cabin of the Dopplmayer. The windows were clear, allowing riders to witness the twinkling lights of early morning Portland in the background. People chatted about their lives, their plans. Others looked nervously around, trying to hide fears of dropping onto the Interstate below. Faces were aglow as they stared into their smart phones, getting their last glimpse of social media before the workday sucked away hours in the day. I looked up the hill to see if I recognized our floor, and instantly noticed the Christmas tree in the corner room. I knew who was sleeping there and wondered if today would be the day he’d leave us. For some reason, as the beautiful music filled my head and we climbed higher into the sky, I knew that the answer would be yes.
The oncology unit is high above the city. Each room has a beautiful view. For those souls that take flight from our floor, there is little effort to fly. For one that’s been struggling to maintain their physical form for some time…this is a nice reprieve.
What an interesting life this is: busy and filled with important things…until it’s not. People often ask how I can work in oncology. They say “that must be hard” or “wow, I can’t imagine”. I suppose no one will ever know because they are not me. I do not believe that death is the end of all ends. I believe it just gets different.
And so…as I waited for the space pod to dock at the top of the hill, I silently said goodbye to the young man in the corner with the pretty Christmas Tree: see ya on the other side, man.
Just a girl 