During my last week of radiation therapy my schedule called for an early morning appointment as the machine was to be serviced that day. The appointment was for 7.30am so I got there at 7.15 and was chatting to the only other patient who had arrived from Ashburton. Naturally we discussed our respective conditions and when I mentioned that I had also had secondaries in the liver, the man interrupted very excitedly and advised me not to give up hope. He said that he had met a man who had extensive secondaries in the liver and was now clear and that he had been telling all his mates and others about it around Ashburton. Kept referring to it as a “bloody miracle”. I informed him that I was the person he was talking about but he maintained it was someone else, finally insisting that the man he was talking about was “a bloody preacher-man from Hanmer Springs!”
I recalled talking to the man on one occasion when I was about to start my treatments but had not seen him since. Why did he not recognise me? Perhaps because I told him we live in Nelson and also I was wearing glasses, where at the beginning I had my contact lenses.
I was delighted to hear his excitement about my liver’s response and to hear of his missionary zeal in spreading a testimony of hope to others. The only part that saddened me was who the glory went to. As the therapist called me for my treatment, the Ashburton man was still muttering, “It’s a bloody miracle of modern science: it’s amazing what they can do nowdays!”