Dr. Tabb walked in with a group of people—his entourage. “Morning, Mrs. Summers. How are you feeling today?”
“Not too bad.”
“Great. I’ve got a little group here with me. A few are medical students, and two are neurologists who are learning this procedure. Is that OK with you?”
“Sure.”
“OK, I’m going to numb the spots where I’ll put the screws in. As I put in the screws, you’ll feel some pressure, but no pain. If you do feel pain, let me know. I’ll get you more anesthesia.”
“Sounds good.”
After using a magic marker to mark the locations where the screws would go, Dr. Tabb inserted the first needle.
Rachel closed her eyes. She felt the pop as the instrument pierced through her skull. Keep me in your peace, Lord. She felt no pain, only an uncomfortable pressure as the screws were put in.
The doctor patted her shoulder. “See that wasn’t too bad, was it?”
She took a deep breath, glad it was over. “You’re right. I thought it’d be a lot worse.”
“Everybody does. OK, so now we’re putting the head gear on, then we’ll lock you into the machine so your head can’t move. Then I’ll be back with the computer mapping exactly where we need the radiation to go. After that, you can go back out to the waiting room and eat something while we plan your treatment.”
“Thanks, Dr. Tabb.”
Two of his assistants came forward with a metal contraption. They slipped it over her head, then began to bolt it to her skull. Still not painful, but certainly not comfortable either. Once it was in place, they helped her lay back while they secured the halo to the machine.
“Would you like some music?”
“Sure.”
“What kind?”
“Got any praise music?”
“Good choice.”
Forty minutes later, they were back. After helping her to sit up, they helped her make her way to the waiting room.
Cooper jumped up. “Are you OK?”
“As much as I can be with this thing on my head.” It was heavier than she’d expected and her neck already felt tired from the strain of keeping her head up.
“Are you hungry?”
“I’m starving.” She hadn’t been allowed anything before the procedure because of the anesthesia. “But let’s get a few pictures first.”
After Cooper helped her to a seat, he picked up the camera and snapped a few more. “For Mom and Dad.”
“Lovely.” She grinned.
“I’ll go get the food in the car.”
The other two patients were already back. One pinched off tiny bits of a sandwich and then slipped it in between the halo to her mouth. The other sipped something from a cup with a straw.
The treatment was painless. They put her in a machine much like an MRI and piped in music. Forty-five minutes later, the procedure was finished.
“Okie Dokie. All done.” The nurse helped her to sit up. “I’ll let you rest for a moment, then we’ll get this thing off your head. Unless you’d like to keep it on as a fashion statement.”
“Uh…probably not.”
“Didn’t think so.” She smiled. “I know this is a tough day, but necessary.”
“I know.”
“Are you ready for me to take it off?”
Rachel nodded.
The nurse unscrewed the head gear. The fourth screw proved to be a tough one.
Rachel squeezed her eyes shut as pressure on her head was tugged back and forth until the screw finally loosened.
“OK, now I’m taking it off. It’ll hurt, but only for a moment or two.”
The head gear was lifted off her head. Her head exploded with pain. She moaned as she bent over. She couldn’t breathe. Or think.
The nurse patted her. “I know it hurts but only for a minute or so. It won’t last long. Keep breathing. Nice slow breaths.”
It was the worst pain she could ever remember. Rachel couldn’t even open her eyes. Only a minute. Only a minute. It seemed like an hour already.
The nurse reappeared. “Better?”
“A little.”
“OK, you can go out to the waiting room and sit with your husband. I’ll check on you in about fifteen minutes.”
“Can you help me?” Rachel still hadn’t opened her eyes—she couldn’t.
The nurse led her out.
Cooper took her hand. “Are you OK?”
“In pain.” She managed to answer. “Need to sit.”
He guided her to a chair. “What’s wrong?”
“Can’t talk now.”
He held her hand. “OK. I’m right here.”
Another five minutes passed, the pain subsided somewhat. She was finally able to open her eyes.
Cooper stared at her, tears in his own eyes.
She gave a weak smile. “I’m better. The pain’s starting to go away.”
“Are you sure?” Fifteen minutes later, he helped her to the car.
The pain was still there but bearable. Rachel held his hand. “I’m glad Mark Matthews didn’t wait around for this part. I must look a mess.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s always the truth.”
Thirty minutes later, he helped her into the house. “Want something to eat?”
“In a little bit, just let me lay down for a while.”
“What would you like, sweetie? You name it, I’ll fix it.”
“I don’t care.”
“That doesn’t sound much like you. You always care about what you eat.”
“Not today I don’t.”
The next morning only the memory of the pain remained. And a mild headache. She moved to a sitting position in bed as the door opened.
“Breakfast in bed for my girl.” Cooper grinned at her.
“You don’t have to spoil me. I’m quite capable of eating downstairs.”
“I know that, but I want to.” He set the tray on her lap. “Fresh-squeezed orange juice, scrambled eggs, and croissants.”
“Looks delicious. I’m starved.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed.
She took a forkful of the Cooper’s famous kitchen-sink scrambled eggs. They had a little bit of everything in them, thus the name. “Perfect.”
“Are you feeling better now?”
“Much.” She grabbed the croissant.
“The pain’s gone?”
“I still have a slight headache. But very slight. Don’t forget you need to clean the screw holes.”
“I’ll go get the alcohol now.” When he came back, he asked, “So, what’s on your agenda for today?”
“Mark is stopping by with bios on the three people he’s chosen for me to heal. Then later this afternoon, I’ll call and set up appointments to meet them in the next few days. And then I guess it will be time to show my stuff. To heal them.”
“How will you do that?”
“I’m not really sure. Pray. I guess. Doesn’t that make sense to you?”
“Sounds right to me.” He grabbed her hand. “But if you’re not up for it, then don’t do it. You need to take it easy for a few days. The doctor said so. And it’s not too late to back out of the TV thing.”
“I’m fine. Almost as good as new. Still a bit of a headache but nothing like yesterday. You go about your day just as if I weren’t here. Do what you need to do.”
One of the reasons they’d been able to relocate to Ohio so easily was that Cooper could work from home. When necessary, he flew to headquarters.
He grabbed a croissant off her tray. “What will you do about your job? How do you see that playing out?”
“I don’t know. I hate to quit. I love my job and financially speaking—”
“Finances aren’t a problem, Rachel. I already told you that. We can live on my salary quite comfortably. If you want to quit work, you can.”
“I just hate the thought of quitting. I worked so hard to be vice-pr
esident. And I really do love my job.”
“True, but it seems as if God may have other plans for you.”
“It seems that may be the case.”
“What’s Dan saying about the TV show?”
She set down her fork. “He doesn’t know yet, but I’m guessing it’ll put him over the edge. After his reaction to the magazine article, I hate to see what he’ll think about the TV show. But they agreed to not mention where I work.”
“I wonder what he’ll say after you’ve healed these three people.”
He had faith in her and her new gift even if no one else did.
Mark showed up at her house that evening. “All three have cancer—stage four.” Mark handed her three manila folders, each with a different name.
Rachel opened the one on top. Only basic information, name; age; address. A quick glance showed the same for the other two. “Stage four?”
“Well, that shouldn’t make any difference if you really have this gift of healing like you say. Does it?”
“No, but—”
“I want to be fair with you. But I sort of figured if I chose anyone less than terminal, the public could just put it down to luck or coincidence. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“No, but—”
“Do you want to back out? If you do, I’d understand. I’ll just take the footage I have and make it into a three-minute fluff piece. Is that what you want me to do?”
“No, but—”
“Good, then that’s settled. I already have interviews set up with the three of them. For tomorrow. We’ll film you meeting with them and doing whatever it is you’ll do. After that, I’ll keep tabs on how they’re doing. In a month or so, we’ll do follow-up interviews with them, and with you, of course.”
“Tomorrow? That’s not exactly what I had in mind. I wanted to meet with each of them first, and then you could come later and film us.”
“I thought it would be better this way. No collaborating with any of them beforehand. That way my viewers can meet them at the same time you do.”
After he left, she stared at the door with a frown. She’d wanted to meet with the patients before Mark filmed them. Panic coursed through her. Tomorrow. Jesus, I don’t know what to do. She slid off the couch and onto her knees.
*
“I got a bad feeling about this guy.” Nia looked up in triumph as she fitted two more pieces together.
“Yeah, well I could have used you back then. Too bad I didn’t have that same bad feeling. But as I told you, back then when I got something in my mind, I just went ahead with it. Full throttle.”
“So how bad was it?”
“Pretty bad. One of the worst experiences of my life, actually. Almost as bad as having brain tumors.”
“You know you’d think God would make it easier for you. Since He picked you to be a healer and everything.”
Rachel picked up a plain brown puzzle piece. “You’d think. But it doesn’t seem to work that way for most people. Or for puzzles. Take this puzzle piece.” She held up the plain brown piece.
“What about it?”
“It’s sort of ugly. Nothing pretty about it, but when you put it in the right place it becomes part of the beauty of the puzzle.” She fitted the piece where it belonged as the bark of a tree. “Life is the same way. Unfortunately when we’re going through the dark times, we don’t always know how they fit into the puzzle so we can only see the ugly. It’s only after the puzzle’s finished that we see the ugly pieces were just as necessary as the pretty pieces.”
“So what? I’m ’spose to be happy that I’m sick, or that my mama is a druggie, and left me with my Auntie?”
“Not at all. Only know that all your experiences, good and bad, are part of your unique puzzle. A puzzle that’s very precious to God.”
“Yeah, the last thing I am is precious to God. Or anyone. I ain’t precious. Believe me.”
“Oh, yes you are. Whether you know it or not, you are very precious to me.” Rachel met Nia’s gaze.
Something softened in the girl. She gave a shrug. “Yeah, whatevs. So what happened?”
“Glad you asked.”
7
Sandy Snoddy.
Sitting in her car, Rachel looked at the file one last time as she waited for Mark. Not that she didn’t already know every word in it. She’d pored over all three files yesterday until she could almost recite verbatim every word in them.
Sandy had Stage IV breast cancer. She was thirty-seven, married, with two children. Nine-year-old twin boys. And she wasn’t doing well.
All three of the people Mark had chosen weren’t doing well, Hospice had been called for every case. But that was OK, nothing was too difficult for God.
Rachel smiled as she imagined each of them in a doctor’s office with the doctor saying the word, ‘remission’. How wonderful that would be for them. For their families. Then Mark and Dan and everyone else would become believers. They’d know Jesus really had given her the gift of healing.
She frowned as she thought back to the meeting with Mark. Yesterday’s meeting had a different tone than the previous ones. Mark had been cooperative and friendly before. They’d seemed as if they were partners on the project. That appeared to have changed yesterday. It had seemed almost adversarial. Maybe he was just having a bad day.
It wouldn’t matter after she proved she really had the gift to heal these people. Then people would listen to her. Give her respect. She closed her eyes, wondering how her life might change. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t about her—it was about God.
Mark’s van pulled in the drive behind her.
Closing her eyes, she prayed. “Please be with me, Jesus.” Nothing happened. No miraculous nod from God that she was doing the right thing.
Mark opened her car door with a big smile. “Morning, Rachel. Are you ready to show your stuff? To show the world you are a healer?”
She forced a confident smile. “Absolutely.”
“I’m not sure if I mentioned it yesterday, but I already did pre-interviews with them. So today we’ll be filming you as you meet them, and then as you do your healing.”
She’d thought this day was about the pre-interviews. He was testing her. But she was up to the challenge. “Well, it’s fine with me. Remember you can film me meeting with them and leading up to the healing. But the actual healing part will be private.”
He ran his fingers through his perfect hair. “No can do, sweetie. I need to film it all. Otherwise, how will we know what you did?”
“What I’ll be doing is praying. And that part will stay private. That’s between me, Sandy, and God.”
“That’s not what the contract says.”
“I read the contract, Mark.”
“Then you’ll remember the part that says I have complete access to the patient and their medical care. As far as I’m concerned, you’re part of their medical care so I want to see what you do. Film it.”
“No.” Rachel knew time and money had already been spent on this project. The network was supporting it. They wouldn’t be happy with Mark if it fell apart at this stage. He wasn’t the only one with the cards. She had a few to play herself. “Mark, I’ve been cooperative up to now. But I’m not backing down on this point. No cameras while I’m praying with them. If you aren’t happy with that, then we can stop the whole thing right now.”
They glared at each other.
Her pulse ramped up. She didn’t want this to fall apart, but she’d promised herself she wouldn’t cheapen her gift with TV theatrics. And she would stand by that.
“Fine, we’ll do it your way. No cameras during the actual healing. If you heal them.”
He didn’t believe her? He hadn’t ever expressed any doubt that he believed her story.
The door opened and an older woman with gray hair rushed out to meet them. Rachel put out a hand, but the woman hugged her instead. “Bless you, my dear. This is so wonderful. After we heard about your experience, we’re sure you’
ll be able to heal my daughter. She’s so very sick.”
Rachel smiled. “Thanks.”
“She’s not having a good day today.”
“Maybe we should come back another time.”
“No. No. No. She needs to be healed now. She’s so weak, I’m afraid if you wait another day or even a few more hours, she might…” She wiped away a tear. “Let’s do it now. I’m sure that Sandy doesn’t want to wait either.”
Rachel walked into the room and was assaulted by the smell. She couldn’t catch her next breath. She wanted to walk out of the room. No, not walk—run. Death was the only way to describe the smell.
A woman lay in a hospital bed. Her eyes were closed. She looked like a concentration camp victim. Her hair was gone and her skin had a peculiar color.
Rachel wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this. This was too real.
This woman had two children, a husband, and a mother who loved her.
Rachel picked up Sandy’s hand. Cold and lifeless.
Sandy’s eyes fluttered.
Rachel felt a slight pressure in her palm. Her stomach twisted. And in that instant she knew what the outcome would be for Sandy. But this was TV, she couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. She forced herself to sound cheerful. “Good morning, Sandy.”
Another slight pressure on her hand.
Rachel took a deep breath, then introduced herself. She looked at the cameraman. “Time to go. This part’s private.” She glanced at Sandy’s mother. “I’m sorry, that means you, too.”
“Not a problem, dear.” She hugged Rachel. “God bless you, my dear. God bless you.”
And then the room was empty of everyone but Sandy.
Knowing it was hopeless, Rachel prayed with tears streaming down her cheeks, keeping Sandy’s lifeless hands in her own. There was no response from Sandy. Nothing that showed she was even aware of Rachel.
Oh, God. I don’t know what I’m doing. Why did I think I could do this? Why did I think I could heal anyone? There’s nothing special about me. I believed Jesus. I still do believe Him, but this wasn’t the right way. This was a mistake.
After fifteen minutes, she forced herself to stand up. With no sense of joy or accomplishment she stared at the sick woman. She’d done nothing here. Changed nothing. Hadn’t helped the poor woman who seemed to be struggling for her next breath.
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