He is sitting with his mother outside the outpatient clinic, waiting to sign in. He faces me straight on. Looks me square in the eye. You really know how to pray, right? he demands.
ALN: Well, I don't know, I start to stammer. I mean, I try, but who knows if I actually succeed.
M: I need you to pray for me. Right now. Because I'm about to have my blood test, and you need to pray that my white blood counts are high enough to start chemo today, because otherwise I'll be stuck here in the hospital over Sukkot.
(ALN recites an on-the-spot, spontaneous blessing, that M's counts should be healthy and strong so that he can begin chemo TODAY).
M: Don't worry, lots of people are praying for me right now. So if your prayer doesn't work, all the other ones will.
* * * *
Half an hour later, I am passing by M in the clinic hallway, when he announces, full volume: I want someone to come and stab me right now! (Translation: I want someone to come and insert my port needle already, so I can get my blood counts as soon as possible).
Everyone, including M, is spinning with laughter.
An hour later, M shouts gleefully across the treatment room: [ALN! ALN!] It worked! It worked! I'm being hospitalized today!
M, I guess we'll be laughing with you again tomorrow...
Keep the balance,