The kindness of strangers

I am still finding parallels between the Trump presidency and my treatment five years ago for cancer so I will continue to narrate the story. In Trump's second week in office he has demonstrated an astonishing intolerance of strangers yet five years ago in my second week of treatment I was overwhelmed by the kindness of strangers.

I had been told at my first chemotherapy session that if it was going to make me feel unwell it would do so in the first three days following treatment. I was given the choice of Mondays or Thursdays to receive my chemo and chose Mondays because my plan was to travel home on Fridays and return for more treatment on Sundays. It is a long journey and best not undertaken when feeling unwell. The journey on Fridays from hospital to home took seven hours. The journey on Sundays from home to hostel took much longer because of a slow car ferry instead of a fast commuter vessel as well as a departure port farther from home.

Vicky; Arriving at the backpackers' hostel at 11:15pm on Sunday night I was welcomed by the hostel owner, Vicky, who had sweetly put her own soft toy on my pillow. He was a hippopotamus wearing a chef's hat and his name was Hippoulis. There was a little note to the effect that he wanted to keep me company and make sure I didn't feel sick.

Theodosia; The brightly coloured trousers walking around the hospital had been recognised standing at the bus stop and one of the radiotherapy technicians said to me that she would be happy to give me a lift in to hospital on mornings when her shift matched my appointments. She gave me her mobile number so that I could call to check her shift time each day if I hadn't seen her.

Dina; A young primary school teacher had spotted me all alone and had asked the oncologist about me. When she found out I was English, truly all alone and being treated for the same disease as her she befriended me in the waiting room. She and her husband had been trying for their first child when she had been diagnosed and had had to undergo a hysterectomy. Prior to her radiotherapy she had had her ovaries transposed so that they would remain out of range of the radiation. This would prevent her from being thrown into early menopause and would also mean that there was a possibility of future IVF and surrogacy. Dina was at the end of her radiotherapy treatment but she was going to have to have more chemotherapy, this time one which causes hair loss, so we discussed the pros and cons of woolly hats, wigs and scarves. Later I went to buy her a scarf. I chose her one in liquorice allsort brown, black and white check because those were very much her palette, but in the shop I spotted this rainbow take on a keffiyeh and though I had no need for a scarf, yet, I bought it for me, for solidarity, for later, for just in case.