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Sitting and waiting. We're here for scans. Again. I'm watching the door for my husband. Again. I hate all the staff that passes and casually chats and laughs...as if their job wasn't to make or break a person's day or spirit. The receptionist makes my husband repeat himself multiple times. She can't hear him because the chemo is making him lose his voice. She asks him to go across the hall to talk to finance. Once there, they tell us we owe $1600 because we haven't met our out of pocket. After showing us a detailed explanation of why we owe, I ask that she refresh her screen as the data showing is from over a month ago. We owe nothing. So my husband and I walk back across the hall. He, painfully and slowly due to simultaneous pain from blistering soles and numbness below his knees from neuropathy. When he is called back, the radiology tech tells us he will be out in 15 minutes. I know it will be longer because they always make us wait longer. But we've been doing this longer than he has. And then we wait for results. For another made or broken day.

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