The Molly and me issue had to be put aside. My great grandfather has cancer. And I don't just mean in one area that can be cut out. What started out as bone cancer, it had spread to his pancreas, liver, and lungs. And it is so far along it is untreatable, so I guess he is going to die soon.
Cancer is a scary word to me. Well, Pops isn't the first person to have cancer in my life. Dad had a couple of brain tumors before I was born and Molly's mother had suffered with a mass behind her spine when Molly and I were five. She was lucky it was caught early enough to be treated within a few months.
But when you hear the word cancer you immediately think death. Or I think it.
"Mom," I ask over breakfast on Monday morning. "can we go and see Pops in the hospital later?"
"I'm not sure Harry. He's really unwell and might not be up for visitors." she answers handing me my pancakes and bacon.
"It might do him some good." Dad says. "Come on Bones, he's cooped up in that hospital room with nothing but ESPN to keep him occupied."
"Booth, I'm not sure they'll allow children though." Mom says again.
"I really don't think that Harry is going to mess about with the machines."
"I promise I'll behave Mom. I swear." I say taking a bite out of my bacon.
"Fine but I want you both back by six." Mom said firmly.
bxbxbxbxbxb
I got through school with the usual battlefront and Dad was outside waiting to pick me up and take me to the hospital. I hate them. I really hate hospitals. I always feel uncomfortable knowing that someone about ten or so meters could have died. Now usually I don't mind dead things but the dead bodies I see usually are in skeletal form. This is what you get when your mother is an anthropologist and works in the forensic department of the Jeffersonian. But there is something weird about them decomposing.
"Ok, Harry, I need to prepare you for this." Dad says when were in the elevator. "Pops won't look the same as the last time you saw him. He'll look thinner and out of breath. He might also look a little gray."
"I know. Dad, what if he is unable to talk to me?" I ask.
"He might still be able to but it'll be broken."
"Ok." I says under my breath. When we got into the hospital room, I got the biggest shock of my life. Pops was in the bed, but like Dad said he was different to the man I knew. He was blotched patchwork quilt of yellow, gray and white, he was hooked up to tubes and wires, and his face looked hollow.
For some reason I feel a bile of sick forming in my throat.
"Hey Pops." I hear my dad say though it is like those scenes in movies where the voices are drowned out after someone has received bad news.
"Hey Shrimp." Pops replies coughing. "Harry you look bigger every time I see you."
"Hi Pops." I say to him my voice laced with a croak as I try to hold back the tears. "You… you look well." that had to be the stupidest thing I could say.
"I feel well." he answered. For some reason my eyes divert to the heart monitor. That is another thing I hate about hospitals: the beeping because I worry when it is going to flat line. I think Dad can sense my discomfort because he placed his hand on my shoulder.
"Does it hurt?" I asked with a slight stammer.
"Not so much. Hard to breathe though."
"Ok, just take it easy Pops, we don't want you over doing it." Dad says sitting in the chair next to the bed. I just stand there dumbstruck.
"So how is everyone?" Pops asks.
"Well, Bones is great. Katy seems to be doing well, Izzie twisted her ankle while camping but she's fine now. Harry's grades are really improving. Parker is good." Dad answered.
"How are your friends Harry?"Pops asks me. I shift my feet a little but keep my head up.
"They're great." I say quietly. He has bigger problems than my little love dilemma. Well, he is very good with love issues but he looks too ill to even give me his advice. The strange thing is I think I may be having a panic attack. I cannot breathe. "Dad, can you get me some water please?" I ask tugging on my shirt collar.
"Sure buddy, are you going to be alright for a minute?" I nod as he gets up. He places his hand on my shoulder before walking out the room.
"Something up kiddo?" Pops asks. I sit on the bed trying to breathe. I don't know why I am complaining because Pops is stuck on a ventilator.
"I'm just a little shocked and confused at the moment." I say looking at my shoes. I should really tie them.
"You didn't expect to see me like this huh?"
"A little."
"What are you confused about?"
"It isn't anything related to this. I think I like a girl but I don't know if I really do."
"Well, how do you feel when you see her?"
"Like the world is suddenly better and vibrant. I understand things better when she is around and all I want to do is spend more time with her."
"You must like her or you wouldn't feel that way."
"I'm screwed aren't I?"
"Does she feel the same way?"
"She pretty much told me the other week. I don't think I took it too well. She's been silent with me for weeks."
"Why don't you talk to her about how you feel? I don't expect you to get a girlfriend at your age. You're only eleven."
"What if I'm too scared to?"
"Then you are a braver man than I. When I met your great grandmother I was petrified of talking to her then one day I did. If I didn't you wouldn't be here now."
"Can you just promise me something Pops?" I say with a very loud sob in my throat. "When you get to heaven, wait for me before you do something crazy?"
"Cross my heart."
bxbxbxbxbxb
Later that night, I was sitting watching television with Izzie when the house phone rang. Dad went and picked it up and carried it to the kitchen.
"Who could be calling this late at night?" Izzie asks me in confusion. I shrug my shoulders because l am no psychic but I have a feeling this has something to do with Pops.
Dad walks back in and we look at his face and just by that look I ran to the bathroom to throw up.