Cancer Banter at the Car Lot

My gas-guzzling Audi station wagon has been sitting idle in our driveway since we purchased my Prius in January. On Friday, I decided to drive it to my City of Hope appointment so that I could get an appraisal from CarMax, which is just a few blocks away from the hospital.

When I turned into the CarMax driveway, a young man shoved a coupon through my car window and motioned for me to park the car in one of the available slots. I explained that I was interested in selling my car and was not in the market to trade or purchase.

I made the mistake of mentioning that we could be buying a car for our daughter in a few weeks, but not now. As he started the paper work for the appraisal, he asked if I drove a long distance to get to their lot. I told him that the location was very convenient because I was a patient at the CoH, just down the street, and had an appointment that morning.

A car salesman is always looking for an "in," something in the conversation that will establish a rapport, and he sensed that this was it.

"Oh, what kind of patient are you?" he asked.

Trying to be as vague as possible, I told him that I was a chemo patient.

"Oh, what kind of cancer do you have?" he bantered. And, just in case I had forgotten, he started listing body parts to jog my memory. "Like breast cancer or lung cancer?" If I said nothing, would he continue through Gray's Anatomy of the Humah Body?

I finally admitted that I have lymphoma. "Oh, yea, I've heard of that." And then, for the next ten minutes, he launched into the tale of his father, who's been undergoing alternative treatments for prostate cancer for nearly a decade. I'm usually interested in these stories, but this saga was stalling my car appraisal. I repeatedly moved my eyes from his to the blank boxes on the clipboard form, but he didn't get the hint.

He eventually asked, "Have you considered alternative medicine?"

I knew that there was no good answer to this question. It's like when a telemarketer inquires, "May I ask why you aren't interested?" Refuse to answer or, better yet, run for the hills. I finally answered, "Yes, but I decided to go the traditional medicine route," and then I headed for the nearest bench and plopped down.

Two older gentlemen soon joined the young man appraising my car. A few minutes later, he walked over and announced that they weren't interested in my car because it has too many miles. (Hmmm, couldn't this have been determined after like ten seconds?) He suggested a private party sale or CarMax or, better yet, a trade-in for a new car.

Wait a second. I thought I was at CarMax. The sales people all wore shirts the same color as the blue in the CarMax logo. "No, they're on the other side of the driveway," he explained. "But wait, before you go let me get my card so that you can call me when you're ready to buy a car for your daughter." My first instinct was to hop into the Audi and make a mad getaway, but I politely stood around for another minute while he got his card.

I started the appraisal process at CarMax, but didn't have time to complete it because I had an afternoon coffee date. I'll return on Monday, right after my CoH morning appointment, but I've learned my lesson. I won't be mentioning City of Hope this time.