All that money wasted! What am I going to do now?
I have no place to stay when I arrive; no relatives on the west coast.
Who do I contact?
This is worse than when they told me I had cancer.
Man! I must be the most unlucky person in the universe!
****
Just before they took off, the stewardess helped the last passenger into the seat beside Gemma; a scrawny, unsteady younger woman.
The new arrival didn't lower into the seat gracefully; she plunked down heavily, as if her limbs were unreliable, almost falling against Gemma. The stewardess fastened her seatbelt for her, then went forward to seat herself before takeoff.
As the plane began to ascend, this new seatmate made an attempt to introduce herself.
"My...name's...Ly...di...a," she stammered.
"Gemma," acknowledged the other.
When she reached out to clasp the proffered hand, Gemma was shaken to the core, experiencing a sudden kaleidoscope of images, as they flooded through her mind.
She gasp, as if her hand was on fire, abruptly letting go. It was like the static shock, when sticking your finger in an electric socket; like being mentally flash burned.
Whoa! What just happened? It seemed like I just saw her whole life pass before my eyes.
But, the younger woman appeared not to have noticed anything amiss. She sat back against her seat, going quiet until the takeoff was over and they had leveled off. Then, with the release of the seatbelts, Lydia turned to Gemma, determined to do her best to carry out a conversation.
And...she seemed inclined to expose her whole past history.
Oh, well. At least, it will take my mind off my own situation.
Lydia revealed, she had a six week old baby daughter, who had been left behind with the husband. In the middle of her pregnancy, the young mother had been diagnosed with a brain tumor, but rather than have her baby harmed by the treatments, Lydia had chosen to delay them until after giving birth.
By then the tumor had spread to cover the top of her head; Lydia was stage four, end stage Cancer. They operated, then went for aggressive, simultaneous Chemo and radiation therapy.
The physicians felt they had been successful. This trip west was to do tests to determine whether further treatments, if any, were necessary.
Wow! No wonder she's so weakened. And I thought I had gone through a lot.
"My tumor," Lydia revealed in apology. "Damaged the cognitive center of my brain. Normally, I can think of what I want to say, but can't get the words past my lips."
"Well, you are doing just fine with me."
"Yeah, that's what's so unusual. It's so easy with you; it's like you anticipate the words I want to say, before I have to say them."
Gemma felt a cold draft run down her spine.
I can't be reading her mind? No way!
"But," continued Lydia, proclaiming optimistically. "I intend to be a survivor. I'll be back to raise my baby soon as these tests are over."
"Way to go, girl! We don't give up. Just hang in there!" Gemma encouraged. "I'm a survivor, too. I just conquered my beastie."
"Really?" Lydia smiled excitedly. "Oh, forgive me. I am so sorry. Here I've been talking all about myself, and not even considering what others might be going through. Were you going on a vacation, to celebrate?"
Gemma sighed in disappointment. "Well...that was my original plan, but...I think the airline has kinda screwed me there. I just realized before we boarded, because of the time difference, my cruise ship is leaving port at just this moment."
"Oh, my. What will you do now?"
"Six months ago," Gemma stated. "I thought I had a death sentence; I couldn't even see how to get through my Chemo treatments. All around me were strangers, foreigners with different colored skin, unfamiliar belief systems, some with no belief at all. I realized, the only way I could survive was if I believed there was a personal God, a higher Power in control, and that He would do what's best for me. My maker got me through all that, even healed me...I'm sure, He'll help me through this one, too."
"Oh golly, I wish I had your faith..."
****
While they had been talking, the drone of the engines had changed in pitch. Gemma could feel it, a shift in position, as if the plane was turning or losing altitude, or even both.
From two seats forward, a woman passenger began to irately address no one in particular.
"What the heck is that stupid pilot doing? We are not suppose to be going over water. He just turned the plane, and we are heading out across the ocean. What on earth does he think he's doing?"
Even the stewardess stood up to look. All over the plane, passengers in the aisle seats leaned over to peer out the windows. Gemma didn't need to do that; she had a window seat.
Sure enough, it was true, they were now way out over water with no land in sight. The original plan was they were to cross over the middle landlocked provinces to get to the west coast.
Is the man asleep...or drunk? Did he put us on auto pilot?
This whole experience was beginning to take on the feel of unreality, like a dream sequence gone wrong.
Maybe, I am still in the hospital? I'm in a coma, and this is something my own imagination has conjured up.
Or maybe, I just dozed off in the airport terminal, while we were waiting for standby?
The other passengers were now considerably upset, so the stewardess went forward to pound on the cockpit door, to find out what was really going on. After considerable time with no answer, she sought out help to push the door open.
It was then Gemma realized, all the passengers were women; and there
