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There was a backup outside the radiation therapy room.  Two patients were rolled up in their 
wheel chairs and left outside while their nurses went to check on the schedule.

He was sixty-five.  She was twelve.

Sitting there in their humiliating hospital gowns they looked wherever they could to avoid the 
other’s eyes.

When, in the awkward silence, their eyes finally did meet, she simply stated:

“Stage 3.”
He replied, “4”.
“I finally shaved my head last week,” she blurted out, matter-of-factly.
He pointed to his bald head and stated, “Four months ago.”
“I was headed in this direction any way,” he added.
“Looks nice,” she lied.
“Yours, too.”  For the first time they both smiled.

She casually stated, “I’m probably going to die before my next birthday.”
He shrugged his shoulders and said, “Don’t say that, you have a lot of life ahead of you.”
“As for me?  I hope I do die before my next birthday.”
“It’s okay,” she said.  “I can’t say that to my parents, it makes them too sad.  Just thought 
you’d understand.”
“I do.”

“Radiation sucks.”
“Big time.”

“I’m pretty sure I am going to heaven,” she said.
“I bet you’re right,” he replied.
“I really haven’t lived long enough to be a bad person.  How about you?  Where do you 
suppose you will go?”
“Hmm,” he shrugged, “Well,” he motioned his arms indicating the space about them, “Seems 
like I am already in hell.”
“Yeah,” she agreed.
“But then again,” he said smiling, “I do find myself talking to an angel.”

The nurses returned and started pushing their patients in opposite directions.  She reached 
out and grabbed his hand as the wheel chairs passed next to each other:

“It’s okay to be afraid.  Just don’t be afraid to live, too”, she said in tones far too wise for a 
twelve year old girl.

Each subsequent radiation session he had, he looked for that little angel who gave him 
inspiration to live on but he never saw her again.

On his last oncologist visit he saw a wall full of photographs.  He immediately recognized the 
smile, bright eyes and bald head of his little angel.  He walked over to arrange the pictures to 
see if the girl’s name was printed at the bottom of the photo.  There he saw three letters that 
brought a tear to his eyes: R.I.P.

He raised his eyes up toward heaven and said in a voice a bit too loud, “Thank you and 
Damn you.”

Patients in the waiting room looked up at the strange man as he opened the door and walked 
out of the doctor’s office in good health.
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