This is a little trio of drabbles I wrote off and on during the last week or so. I've always been a sucker for some medical drama in fiction, but not constant doom and gloom.
These Drabbles heavily reference cancer and medical treatments, so do be forewarned if that makes you uncomfortable.
He'd been discreet about everything, from putting in the request for an extended leave to who he told and how. Or moreso, he simply told Scrooge he was on medical leave, told him not to disclose the circumstances to anyone and said absolutely nothing to anyone else.
Gyro didn't need anyone to know he was sick.
Of course, those he worked with closely would get curious. They'd been the ones to notice his decline of energy, his fatigue and his weight loss faster than he did. And Fenton and Manny both had suggested to him that he see a doctor about his persistent itchy feeling he was complaining about.
It's true that he hadn't been feeling well, but he didn't think too much of it, and he didn't think the doctors would either. But after just two weeks and several appointments exams and diagnostics later, he was having to make all of these decisions by himself, and he was left staring towards the future with uncertainty.
He wasn't going to tell anyone about this. He didn't need the fuss. He'd had to hold his hand up to halt Scrooge from doing anything when he finally relented and told him why he needed medical leave. That face of concern...of fear...of sadness. He hated seeing it.
"I don't need people worrying over me. I just need the time off."
Thankfully, his employer didn't argue and was able to grant him the time off he needed.
"You can take longer if you need," Scrooge had said as Gyro walked out. "I know how these things go."
Gyro knew the duck meant well, that his situation could always take a little longer or shorter than what doctors' predicted, but it really just made him imagine the worst possible outcome.
It hadn't exactly sunk in yet that he had cancer.
His doctor had given him all the reassurance he needed, that it was stage 2 Hodgkins' lymphoma , something highly treatable with a good prognosis rate in his age bracket. All the best possible outcomes, they'd said as he left the office that final time.
People my age don't get cancer and just walk out of it with no harm done , Gyro thought to himself. And even with a good prognosis at the end of it, he still had to rearrange his whole life around just to assure he wouldn't die at the end of this fiasco.
Duckburg's hospital was restructuring their cancer ward and wouldn't be able to treat him. It didn't help that they were offering to waive any extra fees from transferring his medical information to another hospital. He'd still have to miss work to move.
He'd been in the middle of packing his second suitcase when he heard a knock on the door. He glared into the peephole to tell whoever it was to go away.
"Dr. Gearloose?" the voice on the other side piped up. "It's just me, Fenton."
"Now isn't a good time," he'd called through the door at his nosy former intern. "Come back later."
"...How much later?"
"I don't know, like six months, how's that?" Gyro huffed.
"...Can I please come in?" Fenton almost pleaded.
Taking in a deep breath, figuring he could get him to leave within a few minutes, Gyro opened the door and stared down with annoyance at him. "What."
It wasn't that he didn't like Fenton. On the contrary, he didn't mind him at all. But he knew that duck wore his heart on his sleeve, and he'd probably be a crying snotty wreck over Gyro telling him he was sick.
"I just wanted to see if you were okay. I heard you were taking time off work."
"Who told you that?"
"Y-Your replacement, Fethry."
Gyro didn't answer, deciding instead to show a lot of vivid interest in his kitchen sink as Fenton asked questions.
"What happened at the doctors?"
"It's nothing you need to worry about." Gyro waved him off, voice distant. "I'll be returning to work...and Duckburg, eventually."
"Can you please just tell me what's wrong? Otherwise, I'm going to be up all night and wondering if it's something that I caused, and-"
"I have cancer," Gyro finally blurted, voice flat. He just wanted Fenton to stop rambling.
"...What?"
"I'm not coming back to work because I have cancer. And now you know. Is that all you wanted to hear?"
"I-"
"It's stage two Hodgkins' disease, and as a result, I have to receive an aggressive mix of radiation and chemotherapy to try and eliminate it. So, yes. I'm not coming back to work until it's cured, or I die. Whichever happens first."
"...Oh my god, Gyro," Fenton spoke up, sounding horrified. "I'm so s-"
"No no no, don't go and give me sympathies," Gyro shut him up. "I don't want anyone else getting involved in this because I don't need anyone worrying about me or feeling emotional over me oranything , alright? Just pretend I'm on vacation and that you'll see me in a few weeks...or months."
"Is that why you're packing suitcases?"
"Duckburg's hospital can't help me while they restructure, so I'm transferring my records to the one in Hawkhill. I'll be staying with my sister there. Train leaves tomorrow morning."
"Are you going to visit Duckburg during th-"
"I don't know. There will be at least a week between each treatment cycle, so I suppose I would have time to make a visit, but…" Gyro stared at his last suitcase, still half packed. "I don't want to visit when the feathers on my head are falling out, and I look like a half-dead zombie. Because then everyone will know."
"Oh...okay. Do you want me to get your mail for you and water your plants while you're gone?" Fenton looked at the apartment that would be collecting dust for the next several months without its owner.
"I have a neighbor doing that, but thank you." Gyro looked rather forlorn in that moment.
"...Do you want me to help you finish packing your last suitcase?" Fenton offered, trying to smile reassuringly.
It didn't take long to pack it. The suitcase's contents were mostly just clothes and a selection of books. Fenton had taken a bit of time to admire each book that Gyro had picked. He recognized several of them from the communal library at the money bin.
"I packed all of my tools and equipment in the other suitcase. I felt it was most important I take those," Gyro explained as he settled at his kitchen table and stared into his mug.
He'd made tea for himself and Fenton after finishing packing. For some reason, he didn't mind letting the other stay a little longer. And the tea was a little relaxing on the nerves.
"Maybe you can create something for hospitals to use," Fenton had suggested, trying to be ever the optimist. "Like...I don't know, a robot helper for nurses? Speaking of which, are you taking Lil Bulb?"
"Oh, no." Gyro shook his head. "I couldn't let it worry over me. It's so sensitive, you know?"
Fenton tried to not bring up the robot's enjoyment of kicking his shins on the daily and just smiled. "Yeah. I understand. But it might be nice to have someone to help you while you're-"
"No," Gyro cut him off, adamant. "I refuse to be a burden on anyone, even Lil Bulb. I'm probably already asking too much by staying with my sister." He shook his head. "I can deal with a little dizziness and whatever else these treatments will do to me."
"Gyro...it's okay to need help."
"I know that," the chicken snapped, glaring into his tea, "but I hate that I might get to the point where I can't take care of myself like I should." His throat caught tightly. "Because then what happens after that? I'm dead. That's what."
Fenton put his teacup down. "Hey now, don't talk like that. You're doing fine now, and you'll keep doing fine! The type you have is one of the most treatable kinds, and the outcome gets better every year it seems! And you've got the best statistics for it, so you could be back home in less than three mon-...Gyro?"
The inventor was screwing his eyes shut as he tried to make the tears that were burning at his eyes disappear. His breath hitched as he rubbed at his eyes and sniffled. He didn't cry much. He tried not to. But this was a really trying time, and his body wasn't going to listen to his mind.
"G-Gyro, I'm sorry if I-"
"N-no no, you're right. I have the best statistics, but if they really were the best, then I wouldn't have this at all!" Gyro lamented into his hand. "I have to leave my job, my home and probably lose whatever is on top of my head from this and not be able to work when I get too tired. And then with my luck, everything could go wrong!"
Fenton watched Gyro grab for a napkin and furiously rub at his eyes, then tear the paper up.
"I don't want anyone worried about me, and I don't want this! "
There was a long, uncomfortable silence between the two for at least several minutes. Fenton knew there really wasn't anything to say that would make Gyro's worries go away. That might not happen for some time.
"Hey...uh...if you want, and if your sister doesn't mind, maybe I can come visit you on the weekend?"
Gyro glanced upward at him, silently trying to gauge if he was being serious.
"I know you'd be nervous about people seeing you back home when you're in the middle of your treatments, so I could just make it easier and come to you. Then you don't get too lonely," Fenton offered with a half-hearted smile.
"...Oh...mmm." Gyro averted his gaze back to his teacup. "Just don't tell anyone else where I am, if you can at all help it."
"Oh, don't even worry! I won't," the duck assured, finishing off his tea. "Well, I should get back to the lab before Manny gets too suspicious. Good luck with your trip tomorrow, and...I'll see you soon, okay?"
Gyro seemed to deflate a little as he walked Fenton to the door. "Alright," he spoke up, voice hoarse. "See you later then, I guess."
Fenton sensed something was off. Maybe it was too soon to really say goodbye.
"...Do you want me to see you off at the train station tomorrow? I don't mind."
Gyro didn't respond before he shut the door, but the small glimmer in his eyes at the offer seemed to answer the question perfectly fine.
Hodgkins lymphoma, or Hodgkins Disease, is a cancer of the lymphatic system, which is a part of the immune system. This cancer affects the lymph nodes which makes it harder to fight off infection. Luckily, this type of lymphoma is, with modern medicine and treatments, highly treatable with good prognosis rates in early stages.