Radiotherapy Day 14

Today we were rung up as we were about to have lunch (outside! in the sun!) to say that there was such a queue in the radiotherapy waiting room that they were asking people to come later.
Righto, said Husband.
Will they ring Terry? I asked. We are giving Terry, our lovely friend and neighbour, a lift. She's doing her radiotherapy straight after I do mine.
Yes, said Husband.
Terry turned up at 2.30 for her lift to radiotherapy. It turned out that all her phone lines are down as BT are doing exciting things with broadband.
Oh, dear, we all said. And I rang the radiotherapy reception team who said there was an hour delay. Double that and put bells on it, I thought.
So Husband sportingly offered to take Terry down now.
I stay at home and decide to drive myself down for my 6pm appointment.
Husband and Terry ring at 5.30 to say I should get there for 6-6.15. They are leaving to go in the opposite direction.
Which I do. On the button.
I'm delighted to see that I don't need a parking permit after 6. Hooray!
And I wander down the corridor, tell the receptionist I'm here.
Thank you, darling, she says.
And I wait in B1 for the penultimate time.
No sooner have I got my lap top up and fired up the NHS wifi than I'm called in.
I'm so sorry you've had such a long wait, says the nurse, looking worriedly at me.
Don't worry, I say cheerfully. I only just got here!
Oh, she says with a relieved smile. That's good!
And I change. Only one more to go.
As I lie on the bed today I have a picture of Father God, waiting at the end of a running track. There are 9 lines down the field, and I am in Row 5. I run towards him, racing down the track. He is waiting at the end, arms outstretched, his face wreathed in a smile.
Then, he walks down the track towards me.
What?! I'm in a race! He can't do that!
But he does. He stops the race. Everyone is frozen in time. Except him and me.
What have you done? I ask.
Stopped the world, he smiles. And we sit by the side of the track.
And I realise he's stopped the entire universe as well. Everything, just for me!
We're back, say the nurses.
And I reluctantly get up. Smiling.
The journey home is easy and traffic free.
And on my return back, I pick branches of twisted willow for our Easter tree.
And hang my eggs and chicks on it. Place it next to a bowl of yellow tulips bought by my mother.
Thank you, Father God. Thank you.