A typical visit to the infusion center can last anywhere from 3 to 5 hours (for me at least). During the duration of that stint, patients are assigned to a cubicle/space that has an array of the necessary medical hardware, and one particular piece of “software” - the chair. Though it’s not buttery soft full grain leather, it’s comfortable enough to serve as my home-base for the span of the treatment session. In the midst of an appropriately hygienic and medicinal environment, this throne adds a small touch of domesticity to the otherwise clinical zeitgeist.
Imagine an industrial-grade BarcaLounger. It can be maneuvered around (though frankly there aren't a lot of choices for a better spot within the 10' x 10' nook). It is "plush" without being too nice or too fancy or undoubtedly too expensive (it is a chemotherapy dispensary after all). And it can lean back or expand out enough to handle the spectrum of seating options from regular chair to practically a bed (the latter being good for a quick cat nap - without losing sight of the fact that it is nearly impossible to sustain sleep-mode when they keep waking you up for the next step of a process - - - understandably).
Taking into consideration the myriad items crowded into my infusion "suite:" the rolling WiFi nurse computer stand (a self-sustained tech oasis for charting, printing labels and maintaining billing accuracy of goods and services rendered), the forest of IV poles (with their multiple hooks and infusion-rate management pumps), the assorted deals on wheels (like the blood pressure meter and portable drawer-stack of various colored lab tubes for the 6-10 vials of blood they take from me for monthly testing/monitoring), or the cafeteria-style stainless steel cart with lunch items (sandwiches, chips, snacks, drinks and cookies) - the sight of this pseudo chaise lounge seems out-of-place. Granted it is no cathedra, but even this pleather recliner helps to somewhat soften the sterility of the essential situation.
Like so many things in life, a lot of it is what you make it - so, I'm going to close my eyes, lay back, stretch out my legs, and imagine that my infusion clinic chair is instead a therapeutic throne.
