Classes are back in full swing, which means our town's population is back to capacity. Hallways and roadways are clogged when classes change. At prime travel times, buses are packed to standing capacity. Even though I'm working off-campus I had to go in to see my doctor about two badly hurting feet--a nail infection (I could barely tolerate a sock) and a serious arch problem. The doctor was very good to me. I renewed a few more contacts. Then I went to the bus stop. Next port of call was the pharmacy for the prescription to deal with the infection.

I was a minute early for the bus so the wait shouldn't be too long. Minutes passed. My feet were hurting. Buses came and went. None of them were my bus. Lots of people were waiting for the same bus I was waiting for. I sat down on the sidewalk to relieve my feet. Then another bus came so I hussled to my hurting feet. Wrong bus. (With my low vision I can't see the number until the bus is right in front of me.) A young woman made a call on her cell phone. I heard something about a bus that didn't run.

Oh no! So many people waiting for the bus--we can't afford to have a bus just not running! More minutes passed and finally a Number 12 came along. It stopped but did not pull up to the curb. It was packed to standing capacity. I got on. Braced myself as best I could with muscles that were not hurting quite so much. Traffic crawled. The bus stopped every few blocks. My feet were hurting. The next stop was at an even larger school and large numbers of students always got off there. I would then push my way to a seat. The bus stopped briefly but the crowd did not give. I made the quick decision to get off right then and there.

There were nice big seats at that stop to accommodate me as I waited for the next bus. Were I not feeling so tired and discouraged and in pain, it would have been a most pleasant wait. There was a large crowd of students waiting at the stop. A bus was coming. I asked one young woman what number bus it was. "Twelve," she said. I did what no polite person does and took a spot at the very front of the crowd so that when the driver opened the doors I would be the first to board the bus. That way I would get a seat if there was one. There were a few scattered seats and I got one. Ideally I would have double-parked with my feet elevated. That was asking too much of this town with its back-to-school crowd.

When I got off the bus at the pharmacy (which is an eight-minute walk from my home), the traffic was heavy and I had to stand on my hurting feet as I waited for a space in the traffic to cross the street. I knew that inside the pharmacy I would have a place to sit down and wait for the prescription in comfort. The pharmacist was everybody's friend and the place felt like home. When I entered, what did I see but MORE PEOPLE. There were two line-ups at the prescription counter. I sought out the solace of the big comfy leather chairs in the back corner. I pulled one out so that I could put my feet on it. I waited till there was a spot at the counter for me. "How are you today?" asked the lady the way they always do. "Not..." I couldn't get beyond that word. "Not good," she responded sympathetically. "Just have a seat."

I fled to my nest, the tears pushing at my eyelids. SOMEBODY CARED. I took off my shoe and sock and relaxed. Of course, I could not totally relax because I did not know how much I had to pay. I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel and sometimes there's not too much there to scrape. Needing medication seems such a stupid waste of money. Why not just stick with food and get along with good old nature's remedy for the body's up-keep. (Lest any fundy reading this admonish me to "just trust in god" let it be known to all that the most expensive medical issues I am dealing with developed AS A DIRECT RESULT OF RELIGION. God tends to punish people for trusting him.)

As the minutes passed, the other customers were served and cleared out of the store, business slowed down, I felt rested, and my brain cleared. The pharmacist came along, handed me a small white bag stapled shut with tags attached, and said, "Here you go." I thanked him, put on my sock and shoe, and went home. As I limped along I reflected on how many hundreds of dollars worth of prescription meds he'd handed to me like this. He lives in this world without god or christ and serves his fellow humans out of love and the goodness of his heart.

[align=center]His deeds may be godless but they are golden all the same.
[/align]