The Magic of Healing
"How long does she have?" asked the man behind the counter, stooping in his lab coat as he assessed the prescription.
"The doctor doesn't know. Perhaps a few weeks."
The elderly gentleman empathetically smiled, his ocean blue eyes regarding his customer. "Cancer?"
"Yes. Quite advanced, I'm afraid."
"Your wife?"
"Yes," Owen responded. "Forty years."
"Quite an accomplishment. I'm very sorry." The pharmacist placed the medications in a bag. "Fentanyl patches and Percocet tablets for breakthrough discomfort. Read the directions, mind you. Be careful not to over sedate. Easy to do, you know."
"Yes sir." Owen collected the bag along with his insurance card. "So thankful you were open on the holiday. I should keep a sharper eye on supplies."
"Good to have Hospice." The pharmacist smiled; his cotton hair tangled in disarray. "Might I suggest something additional?"
"What exactly?"
"This." The pharmacist handed over a brown, inconspicuous container: It said, "Time in a Bottle Shower Balm."
Owen studied the packaging: 'Apply topically in a warm, moist environment.'
"What's this for?"
"It only works in the shower," replied the pharmacist. "Make it hot. Make it steamy. I think she'll like it."
A bell sounded in the back; a room hidden by double doors. It clanked like a phone from the early 1900's. "I need to get that," said the pharmacist, waving farewell. "It's probably God."
"But where does this stuff come from?" Owen inquisitively asked, ignoring the ridiculous remark. "How much does it cost?"
"From across the sea, Owen. Pay the man at the gate." The voice dissipated, hollow and distant, further than the building allowed.
"What man? What gate?"
***
Owen crossed the parking lot engrossed in the directions. Unlocking his car, he realized he had forgotten the narcotics. "Dammit!" he cursed, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. "How could I have forgotten the most important thing?"
He rushed back to the pharmacy only to find the door had been locked. The handle fell to the sidewalk, rusted and disfigured. He banged and he screamed to no avail. There was no answer. The windows were darkened with filth. Owen wiped away the dirt with his sleeve only to observe through the glass a wreckage fit for abandonment.
"What is going on? I need my medicine! Can't anybody hear me?"
His voice echoed across an empty parking lot.
***
Leah smiled upon Owen's return, perched in their bed like a wilted Orchid, pillows surrounding her emaciated frame. She was leafing through a Hawaiian travel guide.
Owen frowned. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Leah's hands trembled, flipping the pages.
"That we haven't enough money for the trip."
"It's my fault," she responded. "All the co-pays and deductibles. My sickness messed everything up. You've been saving since we got married."
Owen caught his wife's tear with a finger. "I don't need the trip. I'd rather have you."
"And soon you shall have neither." Leah bowed her head in anguish.
Owen raked his hand through his thinning hair. "What is that picture?"
"That's the Pua Lehua flower of the Ohia Lehua tree. It's only found in Hawaii, the official flower of the Big Island. It has a legend of jealousy and heartbreak."
"What would that be?" Owen asked.
"Legend has it, years ago, a warrior on the Big Island named Ohia pledged his love to a woman named Lehua. But Ohia was very handsome, capturing the interest of the goddess, Pele. She wanted him for herself. Despite her efforts to seduce him, Ohia remained true to Lehua and thus endured many tortures at the hands of the goddess. In the end, Ohia was turned into a tree, but his love for Lehua was everlasting. She was turned into a flower on the tree so they could be eternally united. Today it's called the Ohia Lehua tree."
Owen gently took Leah's hand, preparing for the worst. "I'm sorry for something else."
"What's that, Owen?"
"I messed up," he confessed, softly sitting on the mattress. "I forgot your medicine."
Leah looked confused. "How did you do that?"
"The pharmacist gave me some salve to use in the shower. I was reading the instructions on the way to the car. I accidentally left your medicine on the counter."
"Couldn't you go back to get it?"
"They locked the door, Leah. I couldn't get inside. I looked through the window. It was like nobody had been there for years."
"What?"
"I know! I know! It sounds so ridiculous. I don't understand it myself."
Leah reached for the shower balm. "Time in a Bottle?" She attempted to unscrew the top but couldn't get it open. Even worse, the dispenser wouldn't dispense. "What have you brought home? Magic beans? Owen, I'm hurting."
"I know you are, baby. Let's take you to Emergency. I'm sure they can give us something to tide you over."
"I'm not going to the hospital, Owen. I'm not going to Urgent Care. I'm not going anywhere. Can't we just call Charlie from Hospice?"
"Charlie can't give you anything long acting, Leah, only Morphine injections. Besides, hospice has already been by today."
Leah began to weep, crumpled in pain.
"Let me take you to the shower where it's warm, Leah. The heat will make you better." Owen turned on the water and carried his wife through their tiny apartment, dusty and disheveled from neglect.
As the steam began rising, he undressed her like he had hundreds of times before. Each time she was thinner. Each time she was lighter. A tiny bag of bones that he stacked neatly beneath the pelting spray. The warmth eased her pain only slightly.
Owen noted the balm in the shower alcove. "I'm glad you remembered to bring this, Leah."
"I didn't bring it," Leah murmured, too uncomfortable to argue.