That Elusive Cure 8

The vibrations concentrated on my torso for what felt like a long while. Just like Janie had said, the treatment, whatever that was, made my insides go all warm. The sensation was pleasant and if it had gone on much longer I’d probably have fallen asleep. Instead, the vibrations slipped up my body to my head then stopped.

For a moment nothing happened. In the absence of the machine humming, my ears rang, making up for the sudden silence. Then the woman spoke.

“Session complete. Next session in three days’ time.”

As she stopped speaking, the lid popped open and slowly rose back to the original position. I felt good, like I’d had a big dose of vitamins. I was relaxed and so comfortable I didn’t even make a move to get out. The foam hugged me as I stared out the end of the pod, the cross visible again and telling me to have faith, I would be cured. God I hoped so. Not sure if it was sacrilege or some other no-no, not really sure I cared that much about offending a God who had abandoned me to cancer, but I crossed my fingers and toes and hoped for that mystical cure being offered.

“How was that?” I’d forgotten Janie was there waiting. Startled, I felt a little of the calmness the machine had given me ebb away.

“Strange…” I thought maybe I’d have trouble extricating my body from the clinginess of the foam mattress, but as soon as I tried to pull my arms from its grip the foam flattened back down. I clambered out, slightly unsteady and holding onto Janie as she offered her arm. “Good but really strange,” I said as I found my stability and stood on my own.

“How many sessions do you need?”

“Um, a few. Five I think.” I frowned, trying to remember. “I was so relaxed I wasn’t paying enough attention.” Suddenly worried, I asked Janie, “Does it matter? Will I mess things up?”

Janie laughed. “No, I don’t think it matters that much. I forgot how many days to wait before coming back and came a day late. The lady in the machine told me I was late, but it didn’t seem to effect treatment in the slightest.” She put the laminated card in my hands. “Here, don’t forget this. It’s the basics – not that it’s particularly complicated. Climb in, place hand on lid. Let it do its thing, and so on and so forth. Hold onto it and give it to the person you choose when you’re done.”

“Am I kidding myself? Is this all a really elaborate joke?” I stared at her. “I’m not sure how much more disappointment I can take. Would you tell me if this wasn’t real? Would you tell me now before I get my hopes up too much?”

Janie stepped closer and took my hands in her own. “I swear on my life that this machine works. I would never do something so cruel as pretend to have a cure. This is as real as it gets.”

I nodded, seeing the honesty in her eyes. Maybe imagining it there, maybe I needed to dream for a little while. I hadn’t thought of anything other than my own demise for such a long time. Everything I did seemed to be tainted by the end date hanging over my head. Even the fruit trees I planted last year I did knowing I’d never see them grow larger than me, never see them covered in fruit. I’d never live long enough to see the asparagus crop fully. Stupid things, really. My hair would never go grey. My skin would never wrinkle. Never grow old. Never fade away. Who wants to live forever, anyway?