The Flower That Could

“She’s here, doctor,” the nurse said as she wheeled Josie through the door. Dr. Rayman smiled. “It’s lovely to meet you, Josie,” he said warmly, “how are you today?” The young girl barely looked up as she muttered, “Good.” Anticipating Josie’s arrival, Dr. Rayman had spent the morning reviewing her file. She was a six-year-old girl, the victim of a car accident two years prior that left her legs paralyzed. Her parents tried every possible avenue available, exhausting their financial resources on the hope that some cutting-edge process halfway around the globe would help their little girl walk again. He looked at the list of procedures – seven, by his count – that she had undergone in a two-year span. Dr. Rayman looked away to wipe a tear from his eye. Children were his passion, and knowing the painful surgeries Josie had undergone at her age hit him hard. He was Josie’s last resort, as he had been for countless children before her, and he was ready for the challenge.

The doctor helped lift Josie onto the hospital bed, ensuring she was as comfortable as she could be. “So, Josie,” he began, “you’ve been to a whole bunch of hospitals, haven’t you?” Josie nodded, unable or unwilling to look up. He placed his hand gently on her shoulder and asked, “and I bet it hurts every time you go to one, doesn’t it?” Josie did look up into Dr. Rayman’s eyes very briefly, taken aback at this, the very first time an adult had asked her such a question. “Yes,” she said softly, “yes. It hurts lots.”

Dr. Rayman smiled. It was a small moment, but it meant something. “I’m sure it does,” he said reassuringly. Not wanting to lose the trust he had just gained the doctor phrased his next words very carefully. “I looked at what the other doctors wrote about you, and they say that you should be able to walk now,” he said, “but I don’t always believe what other doctors say. I want to know what you think. Do you think you can walk?”

The response was a little harsher than he had expected, but not uncommon. “No!” Josie yelled. “No, I can’t! It hurts to much when I try!” “That’s okay, that’s okay,” the doctor calmly said, “I understand. I know it hurts.” He waited a few moments for Josie to calm down before starting again. “Can you do me a favour,” he asked, “and look out this window here. What do you see?” Josie turned her head to look, and answered, “there’s a flower.”

“Not just any flower, Josie,” Dr. Rayman beamed, “that is a marigold flower. And it is special.” Josie looked at the flower again, then back to the doctor with a quizzical look on her face. “Special? How?” she asked. Dr. Rayman leaned in. “That flower,” he explained, “is small, kind of like you. But no matter what happens, it stands there, looking bright and beautiful as ever.” Josie allowed herself to smile as she began to question the doctor. “What if it’s really cold, or really hot? What if it gets covered in snow?” The doctor shook his head. “It looks like it would be in trouble, doesn’t it?” Dr. Rayman replied, “but it is much, much stronger than it looks. And I think that you are like that marigold flower. I think you are stronger than you look.” Josie smiled a little broader, and asked, “do you think so?” The doctor laughed and said, “I do think so. I know so!” He watched her face, catching the briefest glimpse of joy skirt across it, before saying, “It sounds funny, doesn’t it? But every morning I want you to look at that flower when you wake up. I want you to see how brave that flower is, how it stays beautiful and strong even if the weather is awful. That’s all. I’ll ask you what you saw later this week. Is that a deal?”

Josie was a little skeptical now, but agreed that she would do as Dr. Rayman asked. For the next few days, she woke up and looked at the flower. When it was really windy outside, the marigold didn’t fall. When the snow fell, the marigold peeked out from under it, still bright and yellow. When she looked through the frost-covered window and out into the bitter, freezing cold, the marigold shook it off.

As he had promised, Dr. Rayman came back, a large teddy bear in his hands. “This is for you, Josie,” he said as he passed her the bear. He loved seeing the smile on her face as she held the bear in her arms, so he waited a few minutes before he started talking. “Well, sweety,” Dr. Rayman began, “did you look at the marigold every day like I asked you to?” Josie beamed, answering, “I did, mister doctor! And you were right. It was really cold and really snowy but it still looked nice!”

He had her, right where he needed her to be. “So if that marigold can be strong, do you think that maybe you can be too?” he asked. Josie thought a moment before replying, “Yes, yes. I think maybe I can!” “Okay, that makes me very happy to hear you say that, Josie,” Dr. Rayman said, “Then today we’ll start with some little exercises. It will hurt, and every day we will do more exercises, and those will hurt too.” He stopped to make sure Josie understood what he was saying before continuing. “But just like that marigold, you are beautiful and you are strong, and even if it hurts you can do it. And it might take some time, but you will walk again. I promise.”

That afternoon, Josie was wheeled into the rehabilitation room. It was a little exercise, just like the doctor said, where they asked her to wiggle her toes. It did hurt, but Josie tried her best and was rewarded with the slightest of movement from her left pinky toe. And every day she would wake up, look at the marigold, do some more exercises, then look at the marigold one more time before falling asleep. As the weeks wore on, Josie got stronger and braver, until finally the day arrived that she prepared to leave the hospital. Not in a chair like how she arrived, but on the strength of her own two feet. As she walked out of the doorway, Josie saw Dr. Rayman down the hallway. Without a word, she ran towards him, leaping up to give the doctor a big, heartfelt hug. They stood like that for a few minutes, a grateful young girl squeezing with joy the doctor that believed in her. When the moment had passed, she let go of Dr. Rayman, looked up at him and asked, “Doctor, do you think I could take the marigold home with me?” Dr. Rayman smiled as he shook his head. “No, Josie,” he answered, “I need that marigold to help other children like you. Help them to see how strong and brave they can be.” Josie was a little disappointed, but understood.

Dr. Rayman watched as the family walked away, his eyes welling with tears of happiness, his heart full of joy. He’d seen the same story play out with so many other children, so many other families, yet it never grew old. Still warm from Josie’s embrace, Dr. Rayman wandered into the hospital room, looked at the marigold through the window, ruminating on their long history together.

“You,” he grinned as he pointed at the marigold, “you are the best, damn $2.99 I ever spent at the craft store.”