The parson sat in his recliner chair in the treatment are of the Infusion Center at Emory University Hospital. He was about to receive his every-other-week infusion of the drug that, while not curing his cancer, was improving the quality of his life.
Janet, the nurse, was inserting the IV needle into his vein. They talked. “Janet,” the parson said, “do you remember the last time I was here when the man in the chair next to me was asking you about how it felt like he was stepping on rocks when he walked?”
“I do,” said Janet. “Why do you ask. Are you having that feeling?"
“Well, I wouldn’t call it stepping on rocks,” the parson replied. “It’s more like I’m walking across a cobblestone street. I don’t have it often but I do experience it sometimes.”
“It’s called peripheral neuropathy,” said Janet. “Tell your doctor about it. She’ll give you a prescription for it.”
Janet gathered up the debris of wrappings from needles and gauze pads she’d made on the tray beside the parson’s chair. As she rose, she turned to the parson and said, “How different does it feel to walk on cobblestones and not egg shells?”
“Pardon me,” the parson replied.
“Well,” said Janet, “I just assumed that because you’re a pastor you’ve been walking on eggshells your whole career.”
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