Friday, June 15, 2007

Sometimes, It Ain't Alright To Be So White

Let me start by saying that this ended very well. She went for her first mammo since the diagnosis, and she was nervous, so I went with. We got a double thumbs up from the nurse and a thumbs down on needing a further ultrasound. Whoo-rah. You rock lady and I love ya.

But about being white.

I accompanied to the back of the exam rooms. She changed into my exact opposite from a previous post - she had way too much on the bottom and nothing on top but a breezy, man-closing (left over right) crossover hospital gown. I waited in the short-term waiting room and it was the size of my walk-in closet. Seriously, six chairs were nut to butt, ass to tea kettle. There were four of us, me, and three older, gentle ladies of the Caucasian persuasion. Quiet as church mice were we. Politely sitting two inches away from each other and pretending we were alone (except for the small smiles as we entered and sat, hands on laps, ankles crossed). Then a gorgeous black woman of about 60 sat down and said good morning to every one of us. Not two seconds later another stunning black woman of about 40 came in the room and filled it to the brim, Literally. With her energy.

The two ladies started to chat a little and within a minute and a half we had their entire stories of breast cancer, doctors, uteral (sp?) cancer, ages, church groups, parents, children, back aches pains, jokes, food, jobs, the Lord, get a PET scan, doctors are just people they can mess up too, I know that's right, you don't need to tell me twice girl, okay...O-Kay!??! I joined in with a comment here and there and by the time the ladies left the room, even the uptight, white and outta sights were tittering away. The moment they were gone the chatter in the room dwindled and then completely disappeared within seconds.

I have experienced the same phenomenon with old Jewish ladies and very small children. What happens to we WASPy types when we grow up? Why do we clam up? I want to be in a room filled with 4-year-olds and old Jewish black women and see if my heads explodes with glee.

6 comments:

whiskeymarie said...

Much like a roller coaster or the game "mouse trap", our thoughts travel through a complex and winding maze of analysis, doubt, insecurity, shyness and years of mayonnaise build-up before they reach our mouths.

By the time they actually get there, we've usually forgotten what we wanted to say in the first place.
So we sit, and we stare at our hands and say...nothing.
But we always smile.

Lollie said...

Mayonnaise build-up...that was classic.

H said...

You don't have to be 21 to hang out with me! Truth be told I often feel OLD when hanging out with my friends who are just turning 21 (and I was there only two years ago). I would LOVE to hang out with you!!!

Lollie said...

Well let me tell you h...I'm planning a trip to the MN sometime soon and I'm inviting every blogger pal to join me in whatever bar my good friend cK suggests. You will be informed. And there will be drinking.

Worker Mommy said...

Ok, this is just funny. That beautiful 60 year old black woman totally could have been my mom. Did you ask her name ? :) The joke in my family is that my mom will talk to a tree if its the only thing there.She loves to chat it up w/anyone who will chat back.

I guess I'm kind of like that too.

Congrats to your mom , by the way!

Gunfighter said...

HI Lollie!

First time visitor here, and I found my way via whiskeymarie.

Anyway... to your situation. Could it be because of generations of conditioning? Norther europeans tend not to be the chattiest pepole on the planet, culturally speaking.

Cheers,

Gunfighter