Wednesday, Oct. 7, 2020 | 2 a.m.
View more of the Sun's opinion section
After my fifth radiation treatment in five days, I was sick, exhausted, nauseated and needed to get home.
A police car’s lights flashed; I pulled over and put on my mask.
Between cancer/chemo/surgery/radiation, I have no immune system.
The officer was not wearing a mask or gloves.
He took my paperwork and handed it back with no regard for my health, then said he was doing me a favor overlooking my handicap-placard hanging on the rear-view mirror.
I’m weeping now; I cannot see my placard as important considering all the crazy going on.
I have a quarter-inch of after-chemo peach fuzz on my head. He didn’t seem to notice.
He scolded me for not wearing my seat belt correctly and didn’t show any empathy when I told him (through tears) that my left breast was just removed. I cannot wear a seat belt across my wound, especially after radiation.
I had my papers in order and I treated him with respect. If he had to ticket me, why didn’t he just do so? Why taunt me?
America can survive the abyss we are in, but not without empathy. He drove away. I didn’t think I was going to make it home; I felt crushed. But as we all have had to do so often these days, I pulled myself together and made it to the safety of my home. Now all I feel is flat. I wonder how he feels.
