I have entered a world that is like none I have ever experienced. There is an air of impermanence and yet a "-hood" of some sort but not a sisterhood, or brotherhood, rather a kind of exclusive club atmosphere in which everyone is reluctantly a member. Each day I try to think about all those people on my cancer ward - the ones who work there and see this day in and day out, those waiting in wheel chairs slumped over and sad, and those that look so bewildered. I think, "How can I make a difference here so this doesn't have to be such a grim experience?"

It's been 3 months since I started radiation therapy. Today when I went, I sat across from a woman in her mid-70's in a wheelchair wearing a baseball cap and a shawl. Each day this week she has been there waiting with me, always asking me if I think the room is cold. Her husband told me that she has lost a lot of weight recently and thinks every room is cold. She is beautiful and you can tell that when she had hair, she really commanded the attention of gentlemen in her age group. Each day I think, I wonder if her name is Ruth. She looks like a Ruth to me, something about mannerisms and her age. Then today I decided I should introduce myself. I told her we would be sitting there next to each other for the next month and we really should know each other's names. She seemed so pleased and offered me her hand and said, "My name is Ruth Schwartz and this is Dean, my husband."

Maybe that difference that I yearn to make can be started with Ruth? As temporary as it is, this is real life and a part of my life I certainly will never forget. I feel as though if I can lift someone's spirit for 5 minutes in this ward, then I consider it to be a great accomplishment.

While friends have told me to just ignore this phase and put it out of my mind, I know that going to a place like this for treatment everyday is not something I can easily forget. If it did not have impact on me at the moment, I imagine it would come back to haunt me years later. I feel though that I have the ability to shape this experience; to get the radiology technician in his purple scrubs to smile, and the little woman who assists with the radiation to tell me about her summer vacation.

And Ruth, I imagine I will know all about Ruth's children and grandchildren, her career as a dancer when she was in her 20's, and how she and Dean met. I bet I can even make that world famous doctor remember my name without ever having to look at my chart. These are my small and significant goals, and these are how I can bring meaning to this frightening and horrid experience. Just because I am faced with disease does not free of me from bringing joy into the world. This is my Soul Graffiti.