My name is Ciara, and I’m a wife, constant crafter, fur momma, and a Leukemia fighter. I was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia on Aug. 12, 2017 at age 24 shortly after a cross country move to Austin, Texas, and have been going through chemo ever since! After completing the induction and consolidation phases, I’m currently a year and a half in to the maintenance phase of my cancer fight. Follow my journey on Instagram @ciarafights.
Spending a big chunk of time in the last two and a half years at the cancer center for treatment, I was bound to see a funny thing or two while I spent the countless hours waiting, right? It’s the law of probability! One day I was sitting in the waiting room outside of the ATC awaiting my room assignment for chemo. I was assigned to receive chemo in the main treatment center in the hospital, and the waiting room there is huge! Plenty of great people watching.
Occasionally they put snacks out for the patients -- coffee, tea, and cookies. Well, as I sat there that day looking around my gaze stopped on a woman across the room who was grabbing a pack of cookies. “Yum! I love cookies. Maybe I’ll grab some for myself, too,” I thought to myself as I sat there noticing her. But then something strange happened.
She didn’t just walk away and go sit back down. She grabbed another pack of cookies. “OK, I don’t see a patient wristband on her wrist, but maybe she is here with a patient -- one for her, one for them. That’s nice."
But then it got even sketchier. She got all shifty and started looking around the room, trying to see where the hospitality attendants were and if they were looking at her. Satisfied that they were busy visiting and taking care of other patients and caregivers, she quickly turned back to the cookies and proceeded to open the large tote that was over her shoulder, put the two packs of cookies -- and then 13 more packs in the bag: two cookies per package. That’s 30 large, completely full-sized cookies. Her bag was FULL, and there were no more packs of cookies on the counter.
With the ATC’s supply fully tapped out, the cookie bandit speed walked out of the hospital. My jaw literally dropped. “No cookies for me, I guess.” Both amused and bewildered, I texted one of my best friends to share what I had just witnessed. She immediately responded with: “What? Did she forget she was supposed to bring her kid’s class a snack today???” And that my friends is the story of the cookie bandit.