Healer Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I started Thursday morning by cleaning out my refrigerator. My supply of leftovers wasn’t very large especially since I’d actually been able to get all that lasagna eaten, but there was some stuff that I put into my compost pile. I still had some ground beef that needed to be cooked, so I started a pot of chili with some beans I’d started soaking the night before and some vegetables that were getting old in the fridge. I still had an hour before Jill Green was due for her appointment so I called the florist and ordered some flowers to be sent to the family of Sarah Mahoney. Then I went into my garden to pick vegetables and pull weeds.

I’d left a sign on my front door telling Jill to come around the back if I didn’t answer the front door and as suspected, I didn’t hear her arrival. I brushed my knees off and we went into the house.

Jill was not even forty years old when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She’d had a double mastectomy a year ago, but it hadn’t stopped the cancer from spreading. It didn’t keep her from being in great spirits, though. Jill might know that she doesn’t have long left to live (her last doctor’s appointment had not left her with the best news), but it doesn’t stop her from living life to the fullest. If she didn’t tell people that she is sick, you’d never know. She’d made the decision to stop traditional treatment two months ago, but she still comes to me weekly and sometimes calls to help when she’s having a bad day and does some other alternative treatments. Her doctors are surprised that she has lasted this long, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she gets another two good months. Some people might think she’s not a fighter when they hear that she stopped conventional treatment, but I’ve known her for 3 years and she’s fought for every day of life.

“How was this past week?” I asked her as we sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea in front of each of us. When she transferred to alternative medicine only, she’d insisted that we move our sessions out of the light drawing room—since, she told me, there were a dozen people using me to supplement their traditional treatments and she didn’t want to be reminded of the way she’d felt during that time of her life. So, we sit at my kitchen table or we go for a walk for her session.

“Oh, it wasn’t too bad. Hank and I went to New York City last weekend and we saw a few shows on Broadway and went shopping. We saw a few museums, too. But I bet you want to know about my health. I had a bad night in New York, but it didn’t interrupt my good time too much. We stayed in, ate marvelous room service and watched a great movie. Even the most active travelers need to take a day to recuperate, so I looked at it as nothing specific to being healthily challenged.” Jill doesn’t like to say that she’s sick.

“That’s great,” I told her, smiling. We talked about her four children, the oldest of which was just starting high school, the youngest in third grade before she told me that she should get going and she gave me her hand.

Since she wasn’t actively suffering I couldn’t just grab a lump of pain. It was a much more subtle challenge I faced. I pumped her full of my healthy immune system while taking away the twinge of pain I sensed around the edges of her aura, grabbing the worry over the fate of her children out of her mind, and stealing the fear she keeps hidden from everyone. It took just minutes, but the effects were seen instantly. There was a healthy color in her cheeks and the tiny lines of worry around her eyes disappeared.

“Thank-you, Scarlet.” She said, kissing my cheek before getting into her car. I’d given her the basket full of vegetables that I knew would just go to waste in my house. Her husband Hank was waiting in the car. He always drives her, but she makes him stay in the car, never letting him see her at what she perceives as her worst. When our sessions became informal she still refused to let him come inside because she said that we were having girl-talk and it wouldn’t be girl-talk if there was a man in the room. I waved at Hank and he waved back in reply.

I went back into the house to watch a movie. I never feel awful after helping Jill, but I wasn’t my usual self. I’ve often tried to describe the various feelings I have after helping people. Sometimes it’s easy—pain or nausea—and sometimes it’s nearly impossible. I guess that’s because sometimes my feelings make no sense, especially when I’m removing feelings that I cannot relate to, such as a worry about children that I do not have.

By the time the movie was over I felt normal again, so I stirred the chili and went back to the garden. Robert’s treatment had been scheduled for ten that morning so once I’d eaten lunch I called the hospital to ask when he might want a visitor. I was told that he didn’t want visitors until after three o’clock.

I called Nathan’s cell phone telling him that I was going to the hospital that afternoon and that if I wasn’t back by the time he got here, he was welcome to come in and get a bowl of chili.

I went up to my office to start the paperwork early. I had two appointments for Friday and they were both going to be tough. I wrote out receipts for both of those appointments as well as a deposit slip with the checks I’d already collected this week. It wouldn’t be difficult to add two more Saturday morning if I wasn’t up to it Friday night. I also started organizing my receipts for my accountant: I had to take her the quarter’s receipts on Monday. Since I work out of my home I have to attempt to differentiate between expenses for my home and expenses for my business. Or at least Penny wants me to do that. I keep telling her that it’s too much work to try and figure out how much of my cleaning supplies go to clean work spaces or how much water I use to serve tea and flush the toilet while clients are here. I’d finally convinced her to be happy deducting ten percent of my home property taxes since there are about ten rooms in my house and I use one specifically for my business (I didn’t tell her about the dark drawing room, which she would try to convince me is a business room). She also wants me to keep track of my pro bono work and deduct that. I think she just really hates taxes and looks for any way for her clients to pay less. It gives me a headache and since I have more than enough money to take care of myself, even after taxes, I don’t have any desire to try and keep more for myself. Whenever she asks me about pro bono work, I always tell her that I did about ten hours worth, about a thousand dollars. In reality, the one time I’d counted the hours, I’d worked for free almost as often as I worked for pay.

My phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Oh, Scarlet, I’m glad to reach you. It’s Stacy.”

“Hi Stacy. What’s up?”

“No emergencies,” she laughed. “I just finally found time to say thank-you for saving Charlotte.”

“You’re welcome, though you know I’d always help if I’m physically able.”

“You sure are a good Christian woman, I don’t care what my husband says.”

“Thank-you for those sentiments. I don’t hear that much in this town.”

“Are you going to be free this weekend? I’d like to visit and bring Charlotte. Ralph is going to a football game Sunday afternoon with some of his buddies, so it will be easy to get away.”

I looked down at my calendar. “Yeah, I’m free Sunday. Feel free to come over whenever you can.” I didn’t like that she had to sneak behind Ralphs back, but in the world we lived in, it was required.

“Awesome. Well, I need to feed Charlotte. I’ll see you Sunday.”

“Alright. Bye.”

I finished checking the figures in my accounting ledger and put the receipts into an envelope. It was two o’clock and I decided to go to the hospital early.

Natalie cornered me as soon as she saw me walk in.

“I don’t kiss and tell.” I said automatically.

“You’d better!” and she dragged me to her office and pushed me into a chair, hovering over me. “Spill.”

“There is nothing to spill. You know that we’ve been together. Is it really so shocking that we’ve kissed each other?”

“Oh, I guessed that you two have kissed before, but what’s really important is knowing what kind of kisser he is. That wasn’t just a peck of friends saying goodbye; that was a sneak attack kiss. And it curled our toes, too—that is mine and the nurses. Come on. We’ve all fantasized about Nathan—is he as great a kisser as he looks?”

“Yes?” I told her, emphasizing the question mark. “I really wouldn’t know, seeing as how he was my first real kiss.”

“Well, does he make your blood boil?”

“He makes your blood boil when he kisses me—do you really think that he doesn’t make mine?”

“Point—stupid question. Does he slobber?”

“What? No. Definitely not.”

“Is he gentle? Or does he show his dominance?”

“Gentle, I guess, but that’s because of the problem.”

“Oh, right.” She looked disappointed. “So you haven’t gotten a fully passionate kiss from him? That sucks. You need to work through that problem quick because inquiring minds want to know what that man looks like naked.”

“Natalie!” I blushed and decided that she did not need to know about our potion make-out session.

“If you can’t tell us, then just take a picture—I’ve heard that they’re worth a thousand words.”

“NATALIE!”

She giggled. “Weren’t you planning on visiting Robert this afternoon?”

“Yes, that’s the only reason I came here today—not to be interrogated.”

“Well, he should be wanting visitors now,” she stepped back, allowing me to stand up. “You may go.”

Robert was napping when his mom let me into his room.

“I’m sorry you came all this way to visit him,” she whispered.

“Actually, I was wondering if you would let me help him feel better. I have a special talent and many people have benefited from my services.”

“You’re that Scarlet?” she looked shocked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We can’t pay you. Our insurance is barely willing to pay for the treatments we’re currently getting.” Her expression was actually one daring me to demand payment.

“I don’t expect you to pay me. I’m volunteering my services because I can help.” This was not the first time I’d had this conversation and when I’ve put myself in others’ shoes, I’ve had the same level of skepticism. “This is my standard contract, for legal purposes,” I told her, handing her the form. I’d already filled it in for her.

She read it over rather thoroughly. “So you’re going to take away the symptoms of the chemo?”

“Yes.”

“But not the cancer?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“My talent doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid. I wish that it did, but I can only take away symptoms.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit convenient for you?”

“It’s as convenient for me as it is to the American Cancer Society that there isn’t a cure for cancer. When a cure for cancer is made, the ACS will no longer be necessary and how many people currently working in the organization would be out of work then? I’m not the only person making a living off cancer and other illnesses, but trust me when I say that I would cure it if it were physically possible, but it’s not. I do what I can.”

“What help do you give? You do not do anything to heal the disease.” She looked furious that I wasn’t the immediate fix that she would give her life for.

“I help people want to live. I know that the side-effects of chemo can be worse than the symptoms of the disease it’s supposed to fight. Many people give up the will to live purely because they tire of the pain and fatigue that comes from the treatment that often has poor results. I make them feel good so they can get out and live when the alternative is to lay in bed and wonder if death is better.”

Robert’s mother had tears in her eyes. “Do it. Please. I know he’s in pain, no matter how he tries to hide it. I just want my son back.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I walked over to Robert and laid my hand on his. Like I’d done hundreds of times before I pulled out the pain, the nausea, the fatigue that so many people pray will give them life. I don’t belittle the benefits of chemo and I know that it’s greatly extended, and saved, many of my clients’ lives. But for many people who get the treatment, their quality of life is lessened because of the side effects. I wish that I could help more cancer patients get more out of their treatments—help more people get the energy to get out and enjoy the world, but I’m only one person who can’t really leave this town.

Robert’s eyes opened as I took my hand away. “Woah. I feel great.” I smiled down at him, trying not to let him see my pain. “Mom, that’s the best treatment I’ve had so far!”

“Yeah, honey. It was experimental. I’m glad you’re feeling good. No. No, don’t get out of bed yet.” The tears that had been threatening finally did spill out of her eyes. She quickly wiped them away and moved to keep Robert from jumping out of bed. “Thank-you.” She murmured to me. I took that as permission to leave and nodded to her as I walked out of the room. I leaned against the wall with my eyes closed, debating whether I could work up the energy to find an empty couch or bed. Someone took my arm, and led me away from the wall.

“Come on, let’s find you a place to lie down.” I recognized the voice of Dr. Vickers.

“Thanks.” I said, leaning against his arm.

“Sorry it’s not more private, but all the rooms are in use right now.” He’d brought me to the EMS lounge and helped me lay down on one of the couches. He brought me a pillow and blanket from the nurse’s station and I fell asleep quickly.