Writing for Fun
May 2022
The Appointment - Pete Norman
In the beginning it was all my idea – and I have to admit that it was a very good idea – but then Martin got hold of it and ran with it . . . and what he produced was absolutely brilliant.
The Community Centre was rammed. I have never seen that many people in there before. The only space in the centre of the hall was that surrounding a solitary chair . . . on which I sat . . . rather nervously.
Martin made a very good Master of Ceremonies; he knew how to play the crowd. He called for silence and then, when the crowd had finally settled, he held up Bobby’s hand.
‘This amazing, brilliant and incredibly brave young man is only 7 years old but he is about to face the biggest challenge of his life.’ He paused for a moment to let the surge of the crowd to subside. ‘And . . .’ he put his hand on my shoulder, ‘this man here – his loving father – is going to be with him every single inch of the way.’ He paused again for effect – he was really getting into this now; this was what Martin did best – he was a true showman.
‘Now, young Bobby is about to embark on a course of treatment which will cause him to lose these beautiful locks of his . . . and so, this man,’ he indicated me, ‘is going to be completely and utterly shorn to support him and to show him that there is no stigma attached to a hairless head.’
There was a sustained round of applause which reddened my cheeks and quickened my heartrate. Then Eddie, Martin’s best mate, stepped forwards with his electric clippers in his hand. There was no going back now.
He took it down in stages, a little bit at a time, slowly and theatrically, giving the crowd their money’s worth and then he finished off with a cut-throat razor until my head was as smooth as a baby’s bum.
After he had brushed me down, he helped me to my feet. It was all over. I did an embarrassed twirl for the paying customers and turned to Martin but I saw that he had a mischievous grin on his face.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, some of you might remember the old cinema days when you had to sit through the boring old ‘B’ movie before you can see what you had really came to see. Well, folks, your ‘A’ film is available to view now . . . but first I want to see if that is really what you want.’
I had no idea what he was up to now, we had only spoken up to this point but when he raised Bobby’s hand again, I suddenly twigged and, from the roar, it was clear that the audience had too.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, you have been wonderful so far and thanks to your generosity and the donations made locally and through the social media we already have over a thousand pounds to donate to Great Ormond Street . . . but if I can see enough folding paper in the air . . .’
The crowd was amazing, almost every hand in the room went up, waving a paper copy of her Majesty’s face in the air.
A red-faced Bobby was helped into the seat and Martin performed the most gentle defoliation in history.
The Evening Echo photographer finally gave his camera a rest, promising that the article would be in Wednesday’s copy. The public gradually drifted away until only the three of us were left in the huge room. I hugged my brave little man and rubbed my hand across his smooth head.
‘We’ll have to call you Baldy Bobby now!’
He grinned and ran his fingers across mine. ‘And you are Baldy Daddy!’
* * *
However, all of that was a long time ago.
I stood outside his room, as silent as a wraith, peering in through the gap.
The sound of his breathing was so quiet as to be almost imperceptible. However, the gentle rise and fall of his chest was reassuring. I wanted so much to enter his room, to wake him with a kiss . . . but I could not allow him to see me in this state . . . not now . . . not today . . . my role in life was to give him support, to give him the strength to come out the other side.
I waited until my own heart beat had settled to normal, until my eyes had stopped watering, until my smile could remain natural. I wiped my eyes and stepped up to his bedside.
Faster than a Maserati, a seven year old can accelerate from deep sleep to full throttle in just a few short seconds and, as I kissed the smooth surface of his head, his eyes sprang open.
I whispered, ‘Morning Baldy Bobby.’
His fingers traced the soft down growing on my own smooth head. ‘Morning Baldy Daddy.’
The warmth of his gentle smile would melt steel.
He truly is the bravest kid in town.
‘Are we going to see Nurse Barbara today?’ he asked.
I laughed. ‘You little chocoholic! You only love her for the KitKat!’
He grinned but I knew that he genuinely loved Barbara – she was the kindest, loveliest, most compassionate person I had ever met.
The bravest kid in town?
On the days when he was physically able to attend school, he wore his baldness like a trophy – and because of his courage he was never teased, even the some of the more troublesome kids were supportive.
He never once mentioned the reason for today’s visit, or the appointment with Doctor Harvey, or the file on his desk that he would open, or the words that he would utter which could mean – quite literally – the difference between life or death.
The bravest kid in town?
Damned right he is! * * *
Breakfast was excruciating, with everyone trying desperately to appear happy, nonchalant and normal, when every nerve in our bodies was screaming out in agony – but Baldy Bobby sailed through it all as if he was going off on a trip to the seaside.
The car journey I could almost drive now with my eyes closed – I have done it so many times. The car park was mercifully only half full for a change. The sun was shining down on the small family group as we crossed the road and followed the wiggling line of painted footprints that led up to the hospital door . . . but the only ray of sunshine amongst our little group was the one who was hurrying through the entrance doors to Nurse Barbara.
Her desk was along a corridor on the first floor but she always seemed to be there at the top of the stairs, as if she had pre-cognition.
Bobby ran to greet her and gave her a massive hug. She whispered, ‘Right or left, Baldy Bobby?’
He always made a such drama of guessing which pocket the chocolate was in but he had actually worked out very early on that this was a ‘no lose’ situation, because he knew that she kept a bar in both pockets just in case.
She took his hand and walked him along to the waiting room. As we sat, she said, I’m afraid that Dr Harvey is unwell today so you will be seeing Dr Agrawal instead – I don’t think you have seen him before.’ She smiled at Bobby and added, ‘But don’t worry, he is really nice.’
The next half an hour on hard, uncomfortable chairs passed slowly and painfully. We did not have the mental strength to make conversation, we resigned ourselves instead to watching our brave little man destroying aliens on his tablet, seeming completely oblivious to the enormous significance of today.
It was half an hour past the appointment time when the door finally opened and a small family group emerged with the weight of the world on their shoulders. Nurse Barbara scooped them up and led them away down the corridor to her desk and I fixed my eyes on the doctor’s office door as if my own world depended on it – which, of course, it did.
Eventually the door opened and we filed silently into the holy inner sanctum.
Dr Agrawal looked down over the top of his glasses and said, ‘Hello, young Robert and how are you today?’
A disgruntled little voice replied, ‘I am Baldy Bobby and I’m very good thanks.’
The doctor snorted and opened up his file. ‘I’m afraid I have not been able to read through your case notes yet but . . .’ He scanned through the last few pages one by one. ‘I see here that you are eight years old and that you have been coming here for . . . eight months and that you have had . . . five sessions of chemo . . . and . . . and . . .’
He turned towards me and fixed me with a significant look. ‘We should really give Robert a rest from this aggressive treatment.’
A small voice fired back, ‘Am I going to die?’
Dr Agrawal leant forward and said quietly, ‘Young man, I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening.’ He flicked through the notes to the pictures of the latest scan and shook his head. A deep chuckle passed his lips.
Outside, Nurse Barbara was almost pressed against the door, determined to hear the news first hand and she later said that the scream of pure unadulterated joy was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.