"Life is beautiful,
We live until we die..."
-VEGA4
Judah Jackson was fifteen years old when they found the tumor growing along his spine. It was Osteosarcoma, a bone cancer. After seven rounds of chemo and ten rounds of blast radiation, they cut the sucker out and told him that he was in remission. But four years later when he was nineteen, it returned with a vengeance and he had to go through chemo and radiation yet again, by the time he was twenty they got him into a stable condition and cut the tumor out a second time. But it was different, the cancer had already spread into his bone marrow of his pelvis, the lining of his stomach and his kidneys. Even with the tumor gone, he still had cancer. They had him go through even more chemo, more radiation as they shoved pill after pill down his throat and Judah didn't bother to fight them. Instead he went to finish medical school. By the time he was twenty three he had graduated with honors in Oncology. It wasn't just coincidence that the cancer-riddled guy was an oncologist either, he wanted to help people whom he could relate too, Oncology fit that bill perfectly.
That was how he got an interview at Princeton-Plainboro, a teaching hospital that was rather close to his apartment. He'd already been interviewed by the director, a very beautiful and...well-endowed woman, who'd booked him an interview with a Dr. James Wilson, he was the Head of Oncology and was one of the men he'd be working with. The other man was Dr. Gregory House, the woman he'd been interviewed by, a Dr. Lisa Cuddy had told him that Dr. House's team was missing an Oncologist. Judah would take the available position if Dr. Wilson agreed. But as excited for the interview he was, it still took a lot of effort to drag his cancerous ass out of bed and into the bathroom on the day of. He threw on a nice-looking button down shirt, some slacks, and a lab coat before going along with his morning routine.
He grabbed a black ski cap with the words 'Cancer Sucks' in big bold yellow lettering, from a basket under the bathroom sink and he pulled it over his bald head, low enough so that the bare skin where his eyebrows would've been was covered. That way at least he looked semi-normal. Then he opened his medicine cabinet and grabbed his pill container, popping open Monday's slot and pouring the eighteen assorted pills into a small, clear cup. He did a mental checklist, making sure that he had the right number of blues, reds, greens, purples and the like, before throwing his head and the cup back, dry swallowing the pills as quickly as possible. He then proceeded to snatch up his toothbrush and quickly used it to scrub his teeth clean. But the only thing that resulted from that was for him to double over and spit mouthful after mouthful of blood mixed with mint toothpaste into the sink. Finally he managed to rinse his mouth clean and Judah sighed as he looked at his bloody sink and toothbrush, it looked like a murder scene had been committed there. Wonderful.
He just rinsed again and looked at himself in the mirror, taking in the slightly pallid and hairless features before shrugging and leaving the bathroom. He looked at the watch on his wrist and cursed fluently under his breath, he couldn't be late on the day of an interview! It was unprofessional. Instead of having a real breakfast, the young man just grabbed a pack of mini-frosted donuts, a surgical mask, and his satchel before hurrying out the door. The surgical mask was for obvious reasons, he was going to a hospital that was full of sick people and his body didn't exactly have the strongest immune system. A cold could make him seriously ill when he was on chemo regime that he was. He chewed his donuts thoughtfully as he headed towards the crowded bus stop.
Judah wasn't brave.
He wasn't the kind of brave that people expected from cancer patients. He was stubborn, that was why he fought his disease. What else was he going to do? If he didn't fight, he was going to die. If he did fight, he might die but at least he went down fighting. He wasn't going to die a wimp. In fact, he wanted to be buried face-down. That way the world could kiss his ass goodbye. He didn't quite understand when people described cancer patients as brave. There was nothing beautiful, graceful or even brave about cancer. It comes in, destroys everything that meant something to you and you just pray to whatever god might be out there that it doesn't take your life as well. Once again, Judah wasn't brave. "I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear." A quote from Nelson Mandala. Judah wasn't brave, he was terrified, smart and stubborn. Three characteristics that tended to keep him alive and kicking.
You know, for the time being.
-TimeSkip-
As Judah entered the building he slowly tugged the surgical mask over his mouth and nose and he observed everything around him. Like the red chairs that looked extremely uncomfortable and the way that everything in the room seemed to be baked in an irritating fluorescent lighting. But Judah paid no mind to that, as he walked towards the desk at the front of the lobby area. The young woman sitting there had long ginger hair that partly veiled her face and was wearing light blue scrubs that really made her eyes pop out. Judah would've flirted with her, if it hadn't been for The Look. Yep, The Look. It was the look that non-cancer patients would give him when they found out about his illness. Nowadays, he would get it on the streets. It gave off pity and sympathy, two things that Judah despised with all his being. He just proceeded to walk over to the desk and before he could open his mouth to speak, she was already doing so.
"Hello. Are you looking for Oncology?"
"Yes, is that where Dr. Wilson's office is located?"
The young nurse nodded in response and held out a soft hand for Judah to shake, which he did. He shook it with his right hand trying to avoid using his left because of his PICC line, the tube was corked in his hand instead of the crook of his elbow as usual. He didn't want to freak out the young woman anymore than he had too. But at least in a button down shirt, his central line wasn't as obvious. The chest tube was really easy to see in some of the t-shirts he enjoyed wearing. And yes, having a corked tube in your chest is just as remarkably awkward as it sounds. The PICC line, which actually stood for 'Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter' (kind of obvious why they shortened it), was intended for an IV substitute while his central line was for chemo and the assorted other poisons that they liked spewing into his body. It was kind of a good idea to keep them separated.
"Oncology is on the fourth floor, Dr. Wilson's office is on the left."
"Thank you. My name's Dr. Judah Jackson, I'm the new oncologist hopefully."
The woman looked taken aback by his statement and she just gaped at him in shock. He felt her eyes search him for any indication that he was lying, but when she found nothing and saw the lab coat draped over his arm, she had the decency to blush abashed and look downcast in embarrassment and an unspoken apology. She opened her mouth as if to say something, before snapping it closed and remaining quiet. Finally Judah had enough and he shrugged, a smile stretching over his lips.
"Hey, don't feel bad. I've got cancer too."
He explained, bowing slightly and comically before walking past the desk and striding over to the elevators. He walked past several conference rooms, a rather dingy chapel and assorted other rooms before finally reaching the lift and getting inside. He was about to close the doors when a cane suddenly came out of nowhere and stopped the doors from closing. Then a man in his late forties or early fifties got into the elevator, he looked scruffy with tousled uncut hair and an obvious five-o-clock shadow. He was also coughing and sneezing like there was no tomorrow, a box of tissues clasped under his arm. Judah mentally cursed, making sure that his mask was tight on his face. Sicky looked at the buttons before realizing that Judah had already chosen the floor he needed and he then proceeded to sneeze and sneeze and then sneeze again. Until finally Judah reached over and tapped the man on the shoulder.
"Hey, sick guy who is sneezing in my breathing space!? Do you happen to know where Dr. Wilson's office is on Floor 4? You know, directions? Like left, right, up, down?"
Judah huffed in annoyance and the man seemed to look at him in something akin to surprise. Before rolling his eyes, and feigning hurt. Before he exclaimed in an overly theatrical voice.
"I'll have you know that I could die!"
"Don't make me laugh, Sicky."
"Baldy, and it's Dr. Sicky to you."
Finally the elevator lapsed into silence as the doors opened and Judah was met by the wonderfully familiar scent of grape Benadryl and disinfectant. That was a hospital Oncology ward must, the smell of Benadryl and disinfectant was a constant, something that would never change. While Sicky on the other hand, just limped out of the lift only to look up as another doctor called out a name, 'House', and Judah's stomach plummeted into his knees. Just great. He'd only been there for five minutes and he'd already insulted one of his maybe bosses. Just delightful. While House just motioned for Judah to follow him, something that the young man did with a sigh and a look. The other doctor, a man in his mid to early forties with wavy brown hair and kind eyes, looked from him to House in confusion.
"Well, Wilson I think I've found one of your missing sheep. You can thank me later. I'm going home."
House turned and started to limp away but the other doctor who's name was Wilson, Judah's stomach plummeted even further at the name, moved to stop him and grabbed House's shoulder, roughly. Leaving Judah to just stand there awkwardly as they conversed with each other.
"I've got a nine year old girl with Alveolar rhabdomyosarcoma. Terminal girl trumps your stuffy nose."
"Not yet."
"She's hallucinating."
"So the Rhabdo's in her brain. Make her comfortable, she's got about a week."
"Yeah, except there's no cancer in her brain."
"The cancers in remission? Which means the hallucinations are unconnected."
"Fascinating huh? And not that it matters but if you fix whatever's going on in her head you give her maybe another year. Long time for a nine year old."
"No. It'll just fly by."
This House guy knew his stuff, a measly year to a sick kid wasn't going to do much, in fact it'll make things harder as they start counting, counting the days, the months, the minutes to their predetermined expiration date. It would be devastating. It sounds great to think that you gave a sick person another year, but it wouldn't help them, it would make it all the worse. At least this House guy knew what he was saying. While Wilson just looked confused as House snatched the file from his hands and limped away, leaving Wilson to turn to Judah. The young man hurried forwards and extended a hand.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Judah Jackson. I actually booked an interview. Dr. Cuddy said that I was going to work under you and Dr. House if you passed me."
Wilson blinked in shock then slapped his hand to his forehead and sighed, Judah assumed that he'd just remembered. Then he looked at Judah apologetically.
"I'm so sorry, I completely forgot. Do you want to come to my office?"
The young man nodded and followed the older as he led him down the hall. Wilson would look over every few moments as if to make sure Judah was alright and still following. If he would catch the older man's eye, the older Oncologist would give him an overly comforting and gentle smile. God...he was using his patient-smile. Nuh uh, no way. He wasn't this man's patient, he wasn't a sick kid to be pitied, he was a grown man and a doctor, he was going to be this doctor's fellow for Pete's sake! As soon as they were inside the older man's office, Judah turned to him and sighed. "Dr. Wilson, this isn't going to work if you keep doing that." A genuine expression of shock and confusion spread over the older man's features, and Judah had to smother his guilt. It felt like he'd just kicked a fluffy-haired puppy.
"Doing what?"
"...you'd still look at me like that, even if I acted like an ass, wouldn't you?"
That surely surprised the other man, who stiffened and gaped like a fish out of water. But Judah just smiled, standing up and slipping on his lab-coat as he did so. Before really extending a hand to Wilson, who took it with a genuine smile.
"I actually just passed off an Oncology case to House, you could sit in with his team if you'd like. A trial run before you commit yourself?"
"You sound like I'm committing myself to an insane asylum."
The way that Dr. Wilson remained silent after his statement, did nothing to alleviate the jumbled pile of nervousness in Judah's stomach. He just followed the older doctor out, an apprehensive smile hidden by his mask, decorated his face. Wilson couldn't see the smile, but Judah knew it was there. The last time that smile had been in place was when his little brother had come into his room when he was sixteen. He'd smiled at his younger brother from where he was laying stock-still on the bed, face pallid and drawn. The younger boy, just ten years old, walked closer only to lunge out of the way as Judah heaved himself upwards and blood gushed out of his mouth in a torrent. The blood had spewed everywhere and Chance, his little brother, had screamed. He'd smiled again then, trying to reassure the younger boy that everything was alright, but it didn't reassure anyone when his teeth were streaked red with blood. A vampire's lipstick.
It honestly felt weird to introduce himself as a doctor when he was so used to saying, "Hey I'm Judah, Recurrent Osteosarcoma." That was all that was needed by way of introduction in the cancer ward as a teen. Now he had to introduce himself as "Dr. Jackson, Oncologist." and that felt genuinely weird. He stiffened as he and Dr. Wilson entered a clear office-like room. He could hear the doctors around the table talking even if they didn't seem to notice the pair yet. The woman doctor, with chocolatey brown locks and a sweet smile was flipping through a file with her thumb and index finger, she was the first to speak.
"Five major surgeries, a bone marrow transplant, 14 rounds of chemo and blast radiation."
Well...that was unexpected. Who's medical file were they reading? A patient's? The man on the left side of her had dark skin and a goatee and he shook his head and winced as she exclaimed about the patient's treatments. Another doctor next to her spoke next, he was surfer-boy handsome with sun-kissed skin and wavy blonde hair, he had the end of a pen in the corner of his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. Then he sighed and spoke in an Aussie accent.
"If it was me I'd just stay home and watch TV or something. Not lie here under a microscope."
The Aussie's statement was cut-off by House who came out of his office with a flourish of dramatics. His cane hitting the edge of his whiteboard as he hobbled forwards. He sneezed loudly a few times, prompting all three of his fellows to look at him in surprise. Then to practically jump as Wilson cleared his throat and the pair of them entered the room fully. Even House looked mildly surprised at their entrance, more so at Judah's entrance behind Dr. Wilson.
"Wilson, you have a shadow."
"He's your new fellow, for a trial run at least. But he also answers to me, so don't pull seniority or the 'I'm your boss' crap." Wilson griped, prompting House to just blink in surprise before shrugging and gesturing to an empty seat at the table. Judah moved forwards and sat down, not even bothering to extend a hand to House. Even though they hadn't formally met. Wilson opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but then he thought better of it and left.
"Differential diagnosis on your marks, get set…"
The darker skinned doctor almost instantly moved to speak, "Hallucinations could be caused by...", he was quickly cut off by House's strangled 'WOAH!' And he had to get the nod to go forth from the older doctor, before he was allowed to finish his thought. Judah cringed in sympathy for him. "Latent neurotoxicity from the chemo treatments." The dark skinned doctor grumped, sending an unregistered glare towards House. Then the pretty girl doctor began to speak, feeding off of what her colleague had previously said.
"No, her last round of chemo was two months ago. We would have seen it by now."
"What about graft vs. host disease from the bone marrow transplant? Infection travels to her brain and she has hallucinations."
That was the Aussie again and Judah looked up from where his been flipping through the girl, Andie's file. That wasn't right, Graft-Versus Host Disease wouldn't present with her symptoms and the LP and blood work looked to be squeaky clean. He clenched his fists for a moment, feeling the scarred and toughened skin of his palms...his own battle scars from Graft v. Host. They had tried a transplant on him as soon as they'd realized that it had spread to the bone marrow of his pelvis, too close to his lilac crest for comfort. Most cancer patients had the Graft v. Host scars, just like rings on a tree, you could use them to tell how long somebody's been a patient before even asking.
"No that's impossible, G v. H wouldn't spread like that and her LP and Bloodwork were clean...I'm Dr. Judah Jackson by the way."
The darker skinned doctor reached over to shake his hand first, a obviously forced smile on his face as he grasped Judah's scarred hand and grunted, "Dr. Foreman." As a way of introducing himself. The pretty doctor was next and she had the same 'Look' on her face as Dr. Wilson. The 'oh-you-have-cancer-so-pity-party' look. He really hated that look. She introduced herself as "Dr. Allison Cameron." He had to bite his tongue to not give a nasty retort, she was speaking to him as if he were five. The blonde Aussie was next, he was the first doctor to give him a real handshake with a genuine smile to go with it. Even if it resembled Cameron's. He was "Dr. Robert Chase." House completely disregarded their introductions and instead just back into the differential.
"Ah, but where there's infection there's swelling. Check her brain."
"But the tox screen showed no involvement and neither did the MRI!" That was Cameron again, she was really started to grow on him.
"Oh who cares! She could be making it up for all we know. Tox screen, MRI and you," House pointed his cane at Cameron, "..stay away from our patient." The brunette seemed taken aback by his statement and Judah assumed that she was more than mildly insulted by the way she yelped, "What did I do?!" In response to House's statement. Even though Judah already knew that she was one of those annoyingly caring people.
"Because you'll just get all touchy-feely with the dying girl and end up in a custody battle, Foreman run the tests, Chase talk to the Mom and bring Baldy with you."
-TimeSkip-
He and Chase didn't talk at all whilst they were prepping the young girl for her MRI. She was really sweet already, he could tell even though he hadn't said a word to her yet. Chase was the one who'd been doing all the talking. Judah could see that the girl already had a cute little crush on the Aussie, him and his Cinderella good-looks. In fact, he didn't even know the girl's name. So when there was a lull in the conversation amid whilst thy were lying her down for the scan and attaching her SAT monitor, and they had tried the walls changing trick. It had been tried on him many times as a kid and he'd always hated it with bitter passion. He finally took the moment to introduce himself, slipping back into old habits as he did so.
"Hey I'm Judah, Recurrent-Osteosarcoma." She instantly smiled when she heard the cancer-kid intro. and she offered him the hand that wasn't bandaged and grunted in the very same fashion. "Andie, alveolar rhabdomyosarcoma. Aren't you supposed to introduce yourself like a doctor?" Judah allowed a scarlet blush to spread across his cheeks as he smiled happily. "Oops, I always forget."
"That's okay, it's kind of nice."
"Okay Andie, time to go in." Chase hit the button at the forefront of the machine, sending the little girl wooshing inside. It made Judah think of another time when he truly felt like a Hot Pocket. Ever try to read the label on one of those things? He would always try to insert himself into the equation. 'Insert Cancer-Kid...Nuke...Remove.' It was pretty simple equation and yet it still sucked when your face feels all weirdly hot and your mouth tastes like battery acid. Somethings are just better left unsaid.