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How Surgery's Prospect Brought Maria Hope
 Maria* eyed her watch nervously, hoping her Samaritan Center appointment wouldn’t take too long.
Nowadays it felt like she spent more of her life at appointments than at work—especially with the doctor, who insisted that she needed surgery as soon as possible if she wanted to head off her cancer at an early stage.
“And what about my job?” she had asked. “How long would I need to be away from my job for recovery?”
When he had answered “six weeks,” Maria’s jaw had dropped. She couldn’t get off work for six days, much less six weeks. If she left her job for six weeks—even if it were for a good reason like surgery—there would be no job waiting for her when she returned.
And now was no time for her to lose her job. One year before, her husband had left her and the children behind for another woman. Unsurprisingly, that woman had not encouraged him to pay child support to his ex-wife.
That had made Maria’s job become her four children’s sole source of support, the only assurance that hearty food would fill their hungry bellies, that sturdy clothes would cover their shivering backs, and that a solid roof would shield them while they slept.
More than anything, Maria wanted to get a second job. But the doctor had slammed the door on that desire.
“Your health is precarious as it is,” he had chided her. “For you, a second job would be the equivalent of a death wish.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” Maria had demanded desperately. The doctor had had no response, and now she found herself asking her Samaritan Center case worker the same question. She dried her eyes on her already-damp sleeve. “I just don’t know what to do.”
Sylvia, her case worker, gently passed Maria a Kleenex, pausing for a moment to let Maria collect herself.
“We’ll do our best to find a solution together,” Sylvia assured her.
They started by going through Maria’s finances and determining that the Center could help with her water and light bills for this month. Both ladies, though, wanted something more—a long-term solution.
“You need that surgery,” Sylvia echoed the doctor, and Maria sighed. “Don’t worry—we’ll do all we can here at the Center to help you through it. We’ll even talk with other agencies and your church about partnering with us.”
For the second time that day, Maria’s jaw dropped. “Do you think they would?” she squeaked incredulously, for the first time in a very long time cracking a watery smile.
“I do,” Sylvia nodded, smiling back. “You’d better go, or you’ll be late—but be in touch soon so we can make arrangements.”
Catching a glimpse of the clock, Maria gasped. As usual, she was pressed for time, but even so, she couldn’t help but notice that her heart felt lighter now. Sure, her problems still existed, but they were no longer a dead end—now she had options that could encourage her and give her hope.
Flashing one last grateful grin to Sylvia, Maria rose to go.
* For confidentiality's sake, this individual's name has been changed.
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