“Andrew's Treatment”

“Andrew's Treatment”

Andrew slumped down into the same lounge chair that he had sat in for the past eight weeks. The IV dripped miracle concoctions that doctors assured him would kill his cancer. Strangely, the same background music in the room seemed to come full circle again, as "All you need is Love" echoed once more in his head.

The woman who always sat across from him would cheerfully try to catch his attention week after week. But he was so self absorbed; too much into his own self pity to be bothered. Had he ever even noticed that she had not been present the past four visits? Had he remembered the words she would often say to him? "you have a nice smile Andrew." or "It's so nice when you smile Andrew." Did Andrew even notice the day when she stood up and thanked everyone for their hard work? She was always happy and positive.

Perhaps it was because he could not remember what it was like to be happy or to have someone that cared. Had he become that hardened, or that cynical, after all he had gone through in life? Years ago his wife left and his children stopped visiting him. Was it just another lack luster day; with the background music humming happy tunes into his empty ears?

Maybe Andrew had just forgotten about all the help he received; all the wonderful people he had met and that they were a part of his recovery. It was not just cancer he needed recovery from. Rather, the years of negativeness that had seeped into his life like a cancer. There were so many people surrounding him every day, who showed love, hope and happiness. Just like the woman who everyday would try to engage him into conversation and get him to just smile.

Andrew, upon hearing that Beatles song once again that day, finally took a real hard look around the room he seemed to just occupy. He had become just another fixture in a corner of the room. Where had the time gone? Those days that turned into weeks? Where would he end up now? Were his treatments just another parlor trick, he thought? Just then a familiar voice squeaked from behind him.

" Will you be my Valentine, sir?" The shrill weak voice announced.

Andrew turned and found that same woman he thought was just another annoyance standing behind him with a hand made card with a heart on it. Her outstretched hand pressed the card into his palm before he could escape. But something made Andrew stop this time and really smile. He remembered when he was a kid and missed all of the first grade because of an eye operation. The class made cards to send home with his teacher to cheer him up. And they each looked just like the card he now held in his hand.

It might have been the card that healed Andrew the most that day. Or was it the persistence from someone who really cared?

S A Gibbins wc 504