It didn't matter, because at that moment in time Zak Tran decided he was never going back to see Dr. Gibbons or any other oncologist for that matter. To Hell with it, he thought. All I want is something to ease the pain.
It was then that he noticed it. Had it been there everyday for the past two years? Had he been so preoccupied being pissed off that the sign he rested his back on held the key to relieving his misery? There on the bus stop bench, the one he had traveled to and from Dr. Gibbons' office for nearly three years now, was an advertisement for pain relief. Not an ordinary sign for pain relief, like you might find for aspirin. This was a special pain reliever, home remedy and guaranteed to take your pain away or ten-times your money back.
He thought it a gimmick at first, but then convinced himself he had nothing to loose. Zak jotted the address down, with every intention of visiting "Juanna's Remedies," on Baker Street today.
* * *
He made it as far as Baker Street before the pain got the better of him. Zak sat down and propped himself up against a trash dumpster. The pain was terrible, much worse than yesterday. Perhaps the worst it had ever been. He thought for a moment, between agonizing shocks. Perhaps I’ll die here now, finally. His grunts were coming quicker and louder as he leaned up against the dumpster. The people that did happen by Baker Street ignored him or made it a point to avoid him.
He was not alone, however - a voice called to him, one he likened to an angel. He looked up and he saw her, an elderly woman. Her wrinkled faced showed a life that must have been hard, and like his, lived far to long. Her eyes though, they were lively and showed much concern. He stared at her a moment longer, watching her aged lines with his stare before she spoke to him.
"Do you need some help young man?"
Zak tried to force a smile to be polite, but all he could do was grimace. "I-I am in..." He could squeeze no more out.
"Pain dear. I can see that. There is nothing more obvious than the pain that is eating up your insides."
"Juanna..." Zak slumped deeper into the rubbish he sat atop.
"Oh, she's not going to be able to calm your pain young man. She's all talk and new age. You need some real down home remedies."
Zak looked up queerly at the old woman that held out a bottle in her trembling hand. "Take it," she said.
He did as she said, but couldn't extend his arm too far. Each time it left his cramping abdomen, the pain would increase causing him to draw his hand back.
"Here," the old woman knelt beside him, "allow me." The old woman held Zak's head in her arm and gently poured the contents of the bottle into his open and willing mouth. Zak watched her as she stood, and about the time she had straightened herself up as much as she could, the pain was gone.
He sat for a moment, basking in the wonderment of the miracle. He stood, brushed the debris off his pants and began to thank the old woman. "Ma'am, I don't know how..."
"Hush now." She said, holding up an arthritic hand to halt his continuing. "You just be thankful and praise Jahobe tonight before you sleep."
"Jahobe?"
The old woman shook her head. "It is where that there cure came from. Jahobe is great and wonderful. Here, you take one more just in case the pain returns."
Zak took the small bottle from the woman's hand and thanked her again. She waved a hand as if to shoo him, be he a pest or something and carried on about her business. Zak watched the old woman as she slowly walked down the sidewalk.
* * *
The apartment was unusually warm that night. Comforting, Zak thought. He hadn't any pain and the chills that usually shook him were gone as well. Everything seemed that much more pleasant, even the stale dusty air was a pleasure for him to inhale, of which he did often and deeply.
He made himself comfortable in his bed, a warm smiled filled his face as he thought a good night’s sleep for once.