Chapter 7
834 Words
7
Esther woke with a dull headache and stomach pain. She reached for her Bible. Which verses would speak to her fears? She turned to Psalm 46 and read it aloud.
“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change and though mountains fall into the sea …”
She read the verses again, praying through each line. The fear coiling and swirling around her heart slowly subsided.
Lord, thank you for reminding me you’re in control of everything, even my health. Help me to be like Gran, and seize any opportunities I have to talk about you. The highlight of last year had been sharing Jesus with the people at the clinic. The Holy Spirit provided her with the right words whenever she relied on him, and she missed the joy that had welled up every time she dared to open her mouth. Help Dr Webster to have made some progress towards you.
By the time Esther went to work, her heart was centred on Jesus rather than on fear.
When Esther entered Paul Webster’s office, he gave her a big smile which he tried to cover with his hand. Did he think it was inappropriate for a cancer specialist? He’d certainly changed since they’d first met. Back then he’d seemed a cold, silvery-grey kind of guy. All professionalism. No jokes, no laughter, no vulnerability. The pictures on the wall used to be cookie-cutter images. In good taste, but predictable. Now there were two new photos of the underwater world and of exploding stars.
Esther indicated the seascape. “Good to see your office looking less stark.”
He grunted. “I bought it after I took the kids scuba diving at Hayman Island last holidays. They seemed to enjoy it.”
“They’d be crazy not to.” From a parenting view, it was a win on all counts. His children could do something with their father without any need for talking. He’d said the children resented him for his marriage breakup. Maybe now that they were older—fifteen and seventeen, if she remembered correctly—they’d learned to cope with the realities of their life.
Dr Webster glanced down at her file. “Michelle will keep booking you in every three months for this first year. Mostly I’ll just check how you’re going.”
“I had expected blood tests or scans or something.”
He chuckled. “People expect these visits to be more whiz-bang, but we don’t waste money on unnecessary tests. You’ll only have tests if they’re clinically indicated.”
“Let’s hope they’re not ever necessary.”
“Fingers crossed.”
And he’d given her the opportunity she’d prayed for. “You should remember I’m not superstitious.” Esther grinned. Now it was her turn to get him back for all his playful attacks on her. “I would have thought a medical man wouldn’t trust in fairy tales.”
“I knew you wouldn’t let me get away with anything. Okay, you pray, and I’ll rely on the treatments. Now will you let me get on with my job?” His voice held no rancour. “How tired are you?”
“It’s variable. Some weeks I sail along, but I usually crash on the weekends.”
“Not much partying then?”
She made a face. “It’s success if I can get through the full week at work. I’m grateful to be living with my grandmother. She goes to bed early and hasn’t needed help until now.”
He looked up. “Have things changed?”
“She broke her hip a few weeks ago.”
The occupational therapists had made a home visit before Gran was discharged from hospital and were satisfied with the layout of the house. Esther had needed to move a few small items, as well as the mat in the hallway. They couldn’t risk another fall.
“Can you get others to help if need be?”
Joy had taught her how to spot small opportunities to talk about truth. If only Dr Webster would become curious enough to investigate some of his assumptions. “We go to a good church. They’ve already sent some meals around.”
“Lucky you.”
Esther opened her mouth, but her mind was blank. She closed it again.
“So you’re doing well. It doesn’t look like you’re gaining weight.”
“Is that sometimes a problem?”
“It is, if people are less active than they were.” He raised an eyebrow.
“I still cycle to work and swim regularly.”
“Great. Keep it up. Have you had any unexplained aches or pains?”
Esther shook her head, and Dr Webster closed her file.
“I know you’ve been dying to ask me if I’ve read the books you gave me.” She’d given him two books at the end of her radiotherapy in February as a thank you gift, one about the reliability of the Bible and the other about Jesus’s resurrection.
Lord, thank you for getting him to raise the topic. “I had wondered.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
Her heart sank.
“I put them in my to-read pile, and they got buried by the books I’ve been reading for a research paper I’m delivering in June.”
What a pity.
“But now they’re found again I’ll put them somewhere I’m more likely to see them.”
Where? The bathroom? But no matter. She must get back to praying for him regularly.
“Please make another appointment with Michelle for three months from now.”
Michelle had a busy role as receptionist for the numerous specialists in the centre. Esther had prayed for months during her treatment that they could have a decent conversation about Jesus. It had never happened. Along the way, God had answered Esther’s prayers for others. Why had he been slow to answer on Michelle’s behalf?
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