She asked me about the Children of the Rain the night before. I did my best to explain how those merciless drops and even the Blues showcased a sensitivity I was long attracted to on multiple levels. To highlight my poor explanations, I reminded her that Sting was the King of Pain and Adam was the Rain King. “It’s a big enough umbrella, but it’s always me that ends up getting wet.”

Ironically that next morning, very early that next morning,  the three of us ventured to the hospital for the “big test.” And in perfect poetic form – the skies bled grey and the undeterred rain followed us on our journey of revelations.

As we headed up the hospital steps I turned to her and smiled, “Children of the Rain!” She offered a weak grin herself, wrapped her arms around my now damp hoodie, and whispered that she loved me. My angel!

The specialists welcomed me with such genuine warmth and concern. I thought how admirable their work is, how selfless their pursuits, how strong their constitutions to help the anonymous infirm each day, and find avenues to lift those endless spirits, suggesting that hope was indeed a possibility. However fortunate I was to enter their orbit on this given day my gratitude did not include envy. I was either too weak or too broken to share such an optimistic spirit. Bless their hearts!

The prep necessitated a special room for administering as the contents about to enter by bloodstream were highly radioactive. I was taken to a trailer attached to the hospital that travelled the area for such procedures. My area was dark and somewhat sinister , emulating an evil laboratory of the classic mad scientist in a low budget sci fi flick. Roger Corman would be proud.

But she was so kind, so upbeat, almost unnaturally filled with compassion and even … joy. Especially for this fucked up world we currently inhabit. MHNFO – make humans nice for once? Regardless, I liked my little dungeon. I was completely comfortable and couldn’t wait for my sweet angel to leave so I could take full advantage and snooze. And once the toxins were successfully delivered – I did just that.

Less than an hour later I was awakened and taken to round II. The white beast – another giant space age scanner. I always liked this part and chose my music quickly as they strapped me in. The warm blanket provided was delectable icing on the cake as they transported me in and out while I imagined something far more heroic. Perhaps my transformation into a soon to be superhero with alien strength and powers. I began compiling a list of all my known scumbags (quite a list!) whose good fortunes were soon to be terminated, but also those of national and even international fame. Hey GOP – you’ve now been warned!

Unfortunately, the reveries ended soon enough, and the reality of my simple mortality hit home.  The test itself was a good indicator of how far the disease had spread and could help the good doctors determine the next plan of attack.

Back to reality indeed. A mere mortal and one with little powers or strength to combat the challenges ahead with the exception of love, faith, trust, and good old-fashioned luck. And maybe some science, too!!

We huddled in the waiting room, hugged against stifled tears, and collectively  shared our optimism that all would be good. And we would conquer all demons before us.

Once outside, the rain had stopped but the street and grounds still quite wet, the shades of gray still dampening the mood slightly as we gathered quietly inside the car. I watched a few other patients exit their own cars and head towards the entrance. Each with their own story, a history of life, and love, and challenges. Who was deemed to struggle and who were granted the ultimate hall pass? And where did I fit in the mix?

We were all Children of the Rain.