Petscan

I went to Sloan Kettering Cancer Center on Friday for a petscan. Like so many other of the waiting rooms I've visited the past few months, it was filled old people leaning on canes, and hacking away. I'm always a little struck by how much my youth stands out among my fellow cancer patients.

It's odd, but I'm no stranger to these situations. I feel like my young adult life has prepared me for being the novice in the room. My mom used to take me and my sisters to protests and lectures before I even knew what words like "embargo" or "sanctions" meant. We had to clean our rooms before we were allowed to go to whatever event Peaceworks was putting on. I remember being shocked my classmates had never been to a demonstration...what exactly did they do on Saturday afternoons?

As my sisters and I grew older, we each took turns seizing the reigns of community activism. I remember things like giving a talk at the masjid to a group of police officers, trying to flex my freshman vocabulary, or discussing politics with a bunch of hippies at an Amnesty meeting- pretending I was as equally as outraged over the School of the Americas. I ate cheese and crackers, and mingled with the graying interfaith crowd, and tried my hand at being the only hijabi television reporter among over-makeuped, self-proclaimed local hotshots. In many ways, I've spent my entire life mildly at home with awkward situations. And now I'm sitting among yet another bunch of out-of-my-leaguers.

It all reminds of the hadith of the prophet, "Be in this world as though you were a stranger or a traveler." I pray that my life experiences afford me the honor of attaining the stranger status intended by this hadith.

The petscan was schedule for 1 pm. Zaied had to go to Friday prayer, so I was left in the waiting room without entertainment. At first I tried to complete my morning thikr, but I keep getting distracted by the nurse coming in to take in the next patient. Then I start playing this sick game of looking at the couples in the waiting room, and trying to guess which member of the couple was the cancer patient. Is it the husband? His wife seems to be leaning into him, trying to assure him things are okay. Wrong. Here comes the wife's father from the examination room, looking pale and using his other family members to help him walk. I reprimand myself for playing this morbid game. I wonder if other people in the waiting room were amusing themselves with similar mindgames. What were they thinking of me?...especially after I had just prayed in the main hallway. I don't know why my mind travels to these places when left alone, but maybe this silly diversion makes me feel like I'm an observer, and not a participant.