The other night the Old Boy, the Son and Heir and I, went to see a play. We’d arranged special seating, due to me being in a wheelchair, but it wasn’t suitable. We were moved to another section, where one lady sat in the wheelchair section, on an ordinary chair, all by herself.  The usher asked her to move her chair to make room for me and the poor thing burst into tears. She tried to stand up and I could immediately see that she had real problems moving. She said she couldn’t move without her walker, which was now stored in the cloak room. She kept trying to stand up, while sobbing and saying, “I was promised I’d be okay and now this!” I felt like crap. Finally, while she was still trying to get upright, I said, “Please sit down again.” I said to the usher, “Is there any reason why I can’t be parked on the other side of her? Surely she doesn’t have to move?” After some hesitation, the usher finally agreed. Phew! The Old Boy and the Son and Heir sat in the seats in front of us, and I remained parked next to the lady who was still weeping. I stared straight ahead, to give her privacy, and was just thinking, Should I offer her a peppermint?, when she said, “Sorry for my meltdown. This was on my bucket list and I was promised I’d be looked after.” “Instead,” I said, “you got the family from hell.” “I have stage four cancer,” she said. “So do I!” I said. “Mine’s breast cancer, what’s yours?” “Same.” We then chatted about what a bummer having incurable cancer was, with the sword of “we can do no more” hanging over our heads. We also discovered we both have lymphodoema and we both have trouble getting around now. So frustrating. Then she told me about her drop-kick ex-husband and her 10-year-old son with “special needs”. Then I heard about the debt collection agency that’s hounding her for $130,000 owed by the previous tenant and how scared she was. Then I heard about … well, I got a broad picture of her situation. I realised how blessed I was to have a loving, caring family. Her tears dried up and we enjoyed the show. When it was time to go, the usher brought her the walking frame and my son helped her out of her chair and into the frame. I noticed she could get up a whole lot easier that time. So the evening, which began with some awkward, emotional drama, ended on a happy note. You just never know who you’re going to meet up with. In a huge auditorium full of hundreds of people, I sat next to someone with the same medical issues as me. What are the odds?