Last week I went to the hospital for an iron infusion. I’ve been a bit anemic since surgery in January and since I don’t tolerate oral supplements this was the way to go. While entering the room for my third infusion, I was the fourth patient and as a result the main lights had to be turned on so the nurse could see my vein for the IV. Once the infusion starts they use lamps because some people have to sit there for a long time. With the brightness in the room I was able to see the others very well. To my left a woman from India I had met at a previous visit on IV nutrition in the early stages of her first pregnancy. She’d been unable to keep anything down for with weeks. Going clockwise around the room in the next recliner was a black woman in  the same situation and after skipping the next recliner was a white man receiving steroids for MS. Once my IV was in place and the infusion started, the lights were turned back off and we were just sitting there in the quiet. I can’t remember who talked first, but it wasn’t long before the four of us and our nurses were chatting up a storm. 

Renata, one of the nurses, spoke with a thick east central European accent. She is a quite a character with strong opinions and a heart as big as the ocean. It wasn’t long before we learned that she began her life here in Austin over 20 years ago after having left her home country of Yugoslavia  with her husband in a fight for their lives as a civil war raged behind them. They came with two suitcases and $1200. She didn’t tell us this but I know from previous study that she and her husband also arrived with debt to the American government for the travel costs to bring them here. Her story is one of resilience and purpose. 

Next, the lovely woman from India. She had come to the US, Rochester, NY, as a college student to study computer engineering. She became a hardware engineer and works for a company here in Austin that designs the chips we use in our phones and other electronics. Her husband went to college in Wisconsin, graduated with the same degree and also works at the same company as a hardware engineer. 

Next we have Robin. Robin is the black woman with a personality that made me think that if I fell down in the hallway, this woman would not just help me back up to my feet,  but would be the kind who would stick with me until she knew that I was going to be okay. She is pregnant with her second girl. Robin works for Tesla as a claims adjuster because Tesla offers its buyers car insurance and many prefer that because the cars have been and are unique to repair after an accident. 

Last of all, the man with MS. I don’t know where he is from or what his name is but I did learn that he was born several months premature and could fit inside his grandfather’s hand at birth. He talked about life with MS and how one day he had an episode where his entire left side just stopped working. After a few infusions of steroids he was back to functioning like normal only he couldn’t sleep from the side effects. He is a software engineer and spoke with a pretty significant accent I would guess to be Russian or Eastern European. 

Then there was me. ME. The 62 year old retired teacher, white midwestern woman who moved here with her husband to be near her son and his young family. I ended up sharing the whole tale about being told by my son that I would never be a grandma to now being a grandma of three precocious little boys. They were all smiles when we talked about Bobby, AJ and Finn. 

I share this because every day that I live holds the opportunity for similar experiences. It doesn’t frighten me in the least bit when I am the only natural born, white Christian woman in the room. I may be an odd duck, but I will always lean into these situations because I am certain to leave them with a deeper appreciation for life itself and specifically for life this Democratic Republic that we all call home.