Men and mammograms

While waiting for my annual mammogram, I noticed more men then women in the lobby.   Husbands waiting for their wives, obviously.  My gut told me that the men were only there because of a wife's cancer diagnosis.  Why else would husbands go to the "breast health center?"  I wanted to get up and say "I'm so sorry that you have to take this journey..." knowing first hand how much cancer sucks (and how it's often sugarcoated as a journey). About the only thing that's good about the beginning of the 'journey' are waiting rooms like this one. I remembered getting my diagnosis after waiting in a room that resembled a spa.  I recall thinking how about the lengths that health care facilities go to to create an atmosphere of serenity, when your world feels like it's caving in. Since I'm now in my 6th year of the journey, I feel slightly less anxious about these visits.  I've traded in anxiousness for empathy, feeling a desire to reach out to those who may just be beginning their journey today, the ones who's husbands are sitting next to me now.

Exit Row Strategy

On a recent SouthWest Airlines flight, I was making a connection, with no plane change.  As a passenger, this meant an opportunity to get a choice seat before the new patrons embarked.  I was content with mine, one of two seats in an exit row.  As people boarded, I noticed the flight attendant standing between the two men in the window and aisle seats of the exit row across from me.  They chatted as if they were old friends, as the plane filled.  When almost at capacity, the attendant started offering the seat that she’d essentially been blocking, to approaching petite passengers.  I use the word petite in a broad sense, i.e anyone whose body mass would be comfortably contained with the arm rests, and whose knees didn’t pierce the back of the seat in front of them.  While still in the middle, this exit row seat was prime real estate, considering the flight was full.  An oversize passenger however, would depreciate the value of the adjacent seats which were occupied by the two men who’d been so actively engaged with the attendant.  It was then that I realized their strategy.  She was simply a placeholder.  Attendants need a place to stand during the boarding process, so why not make that simple act a favor to others?  When the plane took off, a young polite college student occupied the middle exit row seat.  She’d been offered the seat by the attendant when she vacated the spot to resume her routine tasks… only after a wink and nod to the two men who’d been privy to the exit row strategy. Until now I’d thought the most successful way to survive the perils of open seating on SouthWest was to avoid eye contact with non-petite embarking passengers.  This experience gave me a new found respect for the creative strategies of seasoned frequent travelers.