Arriving for my bone density test at a downstate hospital, I’m delighted to again find Belinda in Radiology. When she does my annual mammogram, I learn more than about breast cancer. 

Our conversation begins with my observation about heightened security at the hospital. “More guards at the main door?” I note. 

“Yes, more protocols. Now they’re armed,” she adds. 

The scanning machine is a sleek new model: silent, so it doesn’t interrupt our conversation. “Are there staff shortages here too?” I ask. 

“Don’t get me started” replies Belinda. “Lots of money some places—not where it’s needed. We work to pay off student debt.” 

How this led to China, I’m unsure; maybe it was something about growing public anxiety. The radiologist, still watching her computer screen, has a simple assessment. “It’s China—threatening war!” 

I risk disagreeing; she listens politely. “Why should we expect war with China? A remarkable country, I visited there in ’82. What advances, in barely 25 years. How many places has China invaded compared to U.S.A.?”

That sets Belinda off, but not in the direction I feared. “Yes. And what did we get from Afghanistan? All our equipment left there. PTSD, nuts in our streets, homeless vets everywhere! 

“My son is in the military; he says it’s China we have to watch.”

My turn. “That’s the picture media and our government gives. They’re stirring Americans’ fears to justify money for weapons. Is China going to invade us?” 

Silence from Belinda; I continue: “The U.S. has 800 foreign bases, many encircling China and Russia. Ask your son how many bases China has near us.”

“Good point. Never thought about that.” 

Belinda returns to the issue of PTSD and veterans. “They return home traumatized, unable to manage.” She must have seen some extreme cases, maybe a family member, maybe in this hospital. “They’re taught their gun is their best friend; they’re ready to shoot anyone; they’re scared.”

Or to strangle someone. I’m thinking of Jordan Neely attacked in a subway car. 

Belinda stops the machine to set my leg at a better angle for the camera. 

Am I disturbing you? “Not at all. They’re charging that veteran with murder?” 

I hadn’t heard. She was angry about it. “Well,” I argue; “he killed someone.” 

“But the guy was acting crazy; he could have a gun, a knife. People were afraid.”

“We can’t go around killing like that. There are other ways to subdue a person: grab his arms, stop the train. But to choke the guy to death? Likely learned that in the military,” I say.

“Everyone is afraid—we’re all on edge. Look at the schools: doors locked, schools have armed guards. Kids are told to hide—in their classroom?” Belinda had thought about this. “Know what I’d do? I’d build a fence around every school and lock it, lock it. Keep everyone out.”

“Come on Belinda. Schools are already locked. Next, it’s armed teachers. Fencing will make everyone more nervous.” 

We continue, though the scanning ended: “Well, look at all the crazies! Doped up, won’t work, expect housing. I see plenty in the hospital,” Belinda confides. “They dope themselves to deal with the fear. Look at our homeless veterans; most are doped. Boys in Vietnam were shot up before going into battle. They brought their addiction home.”

“Like they bring their guns home,” I retort.

Belinda, having passed her lunch break, seems eager to return to government spending. A sore point for her. “We’ve got to look after our own people. Why billions to Ukraine? Let them deal with their problem. Why take money from Americans for them?” 

Don’t get me started on that Belinda, I thought. I replied simply how I couldn’t discuss that issue even with friends (who say they’re progressive). I add only that I’d read that arms sent to Ukraine were exported from there for sale—where, we don’t know. 

“I haven’t had a talk like this in months Belinda,”—thanking her as I slide off the table.

“Me too; I can’t talk politics to my husband. We stopped long ago.”

As I gather my things, Belinda announces, “I have to escort you to Reception. Increased security; each wing is locked; more protocols, more security even for us staff.”

I later realized the thought of which party Belinda votes for never occurred to me. I expect she didn’t think about me through that lens either.