Angel of Mercy by Jackie McCallister Page A

Chelsea hearkened back to her psychology section when she was in college.
    “Have you tried the non-medication techniques? You probably have. But did they do any good? Some people say that meditation, yoga, Tai-Chi, prayer, even diet changes can help.
    “I saw a civilian herbalist just before I was deployed. I didn’t want anyone at work to know that there was anything wrong. She recommended that I completely do away with processed sugar. She said that the sugar heats up the nervous system and makes it more vulnerable to anxiety for people who are already prone to that kind of thing.”
    Chelsea nodded, hoping that they were on to something. “Did getting rid of sugar help?”
    Wendy laughed ruefully. “Not that I could tell. And the next time that I went for a complete physical they said that I was a touch hypoglycemic.”
    Chelsea smiled. “Low blood sugar. Gee, I wonder why?”
    Wendy looked at her new friend. ‘Thank you for listening, Chelsea. It actually helps a little to have someone to tell. I still don’t know what I’m going to do, but thanks anyway.”
    Chelsea went back to her own CHU. People stateside don’t have any idea what being in a war zone is all about. They think that it’s getting shot at—or not in our case—and going home when it’s time to go home. There are a lot of people like Wendy, though. There are lots of lost souls that are just trying to get by.
    Just as Chelsea drifted off to sleep she thought about Tim Giacomo and his brother. She couldn’t get the sight of Tim asleep with his head on his brother’s bed out of her mind. There was something so simple and yet so profound about the scene. Part of Chelsea was glad that she had the opportunity to see it. But another part of her wondered if she should have been privy to such a private moment.
    I’ll go and see Tim’s brother tomorrow , Chelsea thought as she drifted away. It’s been a few days. I wonder how he’s doing?
    She found Tim at one of the vending machines in Glynnis the next day, and told him what she had witnessed. Chelsea quickly found out that there was no issue with her having seen Tim and Gerald that night. In fact, what she thought had been Tim asleep was, in fact, Tim in prayer.
    “I knew that you were there, Chels. I was just thanking the Man upstairs for keeping Gerald alive and me safe so far. You know the old expression, ‘There are no atheists in foxholes.’ Well, I guess it was really true for me. Don’t get me wrong. I was never a full-on atheist. But until this happened to my twin brother, I hadn’t given any time to God or prayer or anything in months…maybe years. But ever since he got hurt I can’t stop checking in with Him.”
    Chelsea put her hand on Tim’s arm. “I know what you mean. The sick and dying people have made me find my spiritual center too. Would you like to join me some time for prayer? Just the two of us, I mean? We can pray for your brother.” Suddenly Chelsea realized that she had left out a very important part of the beginning of her conversation.
    “How is he doing, anyway?” Tim smiled widely. “He’s doing great. He developed an infection just like we were told that he would, but the antibiotics that they gave him have it just about completely whipped. Do you want to go see him? He was flirting with a nurse when I left the room just a little bit ago.”
    Gerald Giacomo had indeed perked up since Chelsea had last seen him. Chelsea had learned to detect the signs of a patient in real recovery, and Gerald had all of the earmarks. His eyes danced, and there was no hint of tremor in his movements. She was so glad for both Gerald and Tim that Gerald was going to be fine. Tim introduced Chelsea and told him the role that she had played in his treatment. He shook Chelsea’s proffered hand and invited her to sit down in the chair that had been recently occupied by Tim. “It’s okay,” Chelsea said. “I’ll go get another chair from the nurses’