A Smile

She sat in the front seat looking straight ahead, as the car came to a stop in the unloading zone. Cautiously opening the door, she swung her legs around to touch the waiting pavement.  With great effort she moved to a standing position and reached for the arms of her helpful driver.  I knew by the tenderness of his touch that this gentleman was her husband.  Before taking her first step, she turned and looked in my direction.   I saw great sadness in her eyes and an agonizing weight on her shoulders, which she struggled to carry.  Our eyes did not meet, because of the tinted glass window separating us. 

All this witnessed from my seat inside the building as I looked out onto the parking lot.  I had arrived early in full anticipation of receiving the newest miracle drug.  The FDA had taken months and finally “fast tracked” it through the system to the anxiously awaiting MS community.   I had a bounce in my step, smile on my face and joy in my heart waiting for my 8-hour cocktail infusion to begin.

She came into the room very quietly with her head down, staring only at the floor.  Her husband made her comfortable in the chair opposite me, and quickly went to check in.  She fumbled through her handbag, searching for something.  Never a smile, never a word spoken, never a glance upward – only great sadness.

Yet, I felt drawn to her, a deep connection with this total stranger. 

Our journey to this waiting room was very similar.  The progression of her illness mirrored my own.  We looked to be the same age.  The swag of her gait and unsteady manner of balance made for a carbon copy of myself.  I knew nothing of her story other then what showed on the outside.  But there was a magnetic pull drawing me toward this kindred spirit.   I wanted to get closer, wanted to offer a light in her darkness.

Her name was called before mine and she left in the same quiet manner with which she had first entered.  The wait seemed forever but finally my name was called.  Upon entering the tiny infusion room – I noticed 10 chairs and only one remained unoccupied.  I made my way through the maze of medical equipment, gadgets and gizmos in the middle of the room, and stood before the empty chair.  I said a payer of thanks when I notice that my new friend would be sitting next to me.  

Turning toward her I said with a tone of authority, “Hey, I believe there’s been a mix-up – you are sitting in my seat – I called ahead and reserved the one with a view”.  For the first time, she looked up and into my eyes with a somewhat confused/startled expression on her face.  Ever so slowly her lips curved upward to form a smile.  Brightness radiated, warming my heart.        

** story dedicated to my MS swim friends - who share their smiles with me