Go Canada.
www.sympatico.ca
What About Me?
Chapter Three
Notes: There is a lot of medical talk in this chapter.
I have no idea what I'm talking about.
Just to make that clear.
***
I'm so sorry... but your cancer has not been cured...
Wow. How do you feel when someone tells you that? Should you feel so empty and cold, yet bitter and mean as I do? What a damn shame, one part of my mind is thinking sadistically, while the other sighs, Why let yourself hope, Duo? Nothing in your life would be so easy.
"Duo?" G asks uneasily. "Are you okay?" At my hard, frustrated look, he looks chagrined and murmurs, "No, of course you're not." I make a 'duh' sound and we both sit in strained silence, with me musing over what I'm going to do now and him musing over God only knows what.
G sighs and settles down to business. "Well, Duo, I really don't know what to tell you," he says, flipping through the stack of papers once again. "I've tried every technique I know of. I've asked colleagues and consulted textbooks. The only option left really is chemotherapy, which you absolutely refuse to consider..."
I grab my plait of hair and glare at him. "You don't understand how much this hair means to me. Hell, I don't even know."
"So much you're willing to risk your life on it?" G asks quietly. I ponder the enormity of that decision for a moment before replying equally as quietly.
"Yes."
G gives a loud and hearty snort of derision which sounds more like the laughter of a constipated elephant. He walks over to a cabinet and removes a small pill vial from inside. It gets tossed into the air and caught as he shuffles back over to me and drops it into my palm. I stare first at him and then at the vial in surprise, turning it over so I can read the prescription. The only thing written on it is a name I don't think I can even pronounce, much less spell. G starts to speak as I look over the bottle.
"Well, Duo, I'd hoped it wouldn't come down to this, but this is really the only option left to us. Before you commit yourself to this procedure, let me warn you it is potentially dangerous and untested. However, I believe it better to take one last chance than to let yourself go quietly, without a fight." He waits for my nod, then takes the cue and continues. "In rough terms, what's in that bottle is basically a hormone. It comes from an endangered plant deep in the rain forests of South America. It's very rare and extremely difficult to gather and produce into medicine. The plant is also very... how to put this... unpredictable. Once a man suffering from a cancer much like yours ate the plant, and his cancer, rare and untreatable, I might add, was cured within a week. In another incident, a perfectly healthy man ate it and died within a few hours. Highly unstable, as you can see."
I nod. Jesus, does G expect me to take this plant as a treatment? I glance down at the bottle and am reminded it's really my last choice. I think G and I both know the cancer is too far gone for chemotherapy to cure. Is it better to put up on last fight or throw in the towel and let death come for my tortured, battered soul?
G goes on. "Scientists have been studying up on this plant, Dr. Gayo among them. You remember Dr. Gayo, I've consulted with him many times on your condition. Anyway, they noticed that a high ratio of people with intestinal cancers such as yours are cured of their disease after the eating this plant. Now they're doing a formal study on it. Most of their patients are people with no choices left to them, such as yourself. I think this may be your best chance of survival, Duo. I will warn you, there's a 64% chance the plant will either speed up your cancer or kill you outright. However, the risk of death otherwise is much worse."
No feeling shows on my face, but my hands rub the bottle steadily between them. I don't fidget as normal people do when they're nervous. If I'm not anxious about anything, then I won't be moving. No foot twitching, no plucking of hair, no cracking of knuckles. I'm just content to be still, a fact most people who know me find hard to believe.
"How long?" I ask. I leave it up to Dr. G to figure which one of two ways that question can be interpreted.
"Without treatment, you would die in about two years. By one year, you would be bedridden. It's going to spread fast, Duo," he warns. "One day you'll feel fine and the next you'll feel like your insides are on fire as the cancer eats away at your intestines. It won't be pretty or nice. Your type of cancer is a manifestation of the L2 plague. When you didn't succumb to it as a child, it remained dormant in your immune system for quite some time. I suppose with the stress of the wars, your immune system could no longer keep it at bay and it appeared, not as the lung sickness, but in it's extremely rare and dangerous cancer from. Only one other person has had it in recorded history."
I give a scornful laugh. "Lemme guess, they died."
"Painfully," G replies.
I roll my eyes in a sarcastic gesture of thanks. I really needed to know that if I die it will be a horrible agonizing death, just like I needed to know your nose produces 50 buckets of snot a day. Honestly! Who wants to know, who cares, and who really needs to know that? Not me, thank you very much.
I regard the bottle again. Fascinating little cylinder of death, and possibly life. Was I really willing to risk it all? Was I willing not to?
"How long?" I ask again.
"If you start the treatment now, theoretically, it would take about three to six months for the plant to kick in. Remember, the man who ate it and was cured of his cancer ingested it in it's pure, plant form, not the processed pill version. A positive effect will eliminate the cancer's spreading in about nine months. By the end of two or three years, the cancer would be totally erased from your body. However, with a negative effect, in which the plant would either act as a catalyst to the cancer's spreading or poison your bloodstream, you could die in any where from three days to three years. It all depends on the nature the pill takes."
I force my hands to stop their rolling movement with the bottle. I let out a fast, deep breath and relax my body. No use getting nervous over it. I need to calm down and think this over rationally. What benefits can I reap from taking the pill? An increased life span and total elimination of the cancer. What can I lose from taking this pill? Basically, my life. Yet, I can also lose my life if I don't stake a chance on this last ditch effort. Either way, I could die. But by choosing one path, I most certainly will die, but if I choose the other road, I could possibly live. Well, no hard choice there. At least I'll be helping the scientific community.
I toss the bottle up in the air and catch it, throwing G a jaunty grin. "Well, it looks like I'll be taking this pill after all." I then address the bottle, still being tossed in the air. "Please don't kill me." G doesn't smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkle up. I laugh for him. "So how do I take these?"
"Take two every week. I suggest one on Sunday and one on Wednesday or Thursday. Whatever you do, take your dose the same time on the same day every week. If it looks like the cancer is abating, we'll lower the dosage to once a week. Fairly large pills, so I suggest coming in about once every two months. If Hilde asks questions, tell her it's just checkups for post battle stress. I know how you want to keep your cancer quiet. Every refill I'll do a scan and let you know the results at the next checkup."
"Okay, then, sounds all worked out. I'd better go then." I glance at the clock. "I've been gone a while. I've got," my voice softens, "a baby to get back to."
G does that weird (freaky too, I'll admit) smile with his eyes again and motions me toward the door. "Then by all means, hurry home, boy. Can't leave your little princess waiting."
I shoot him an mock exasperated look as I head to the door. "Hold it, old man, I'm not a puppet dangling on strings from her fingers yet." G just laughs and holds the door open for me. I pause in the opening. "Hey... thanks," I say quickly, not used to thanking the lecherous old coot for anything, and leave before he has a chance to reply. God, that was embarrassing.
***
"'ello?" I call easily, stepping through the front door into the foyer. "Where's the princess and the old hag who calls herself her nanny?"
"Duo!" a voice calls out, pretending to be angry. "Don't call me that, or no playtime with Vicki."
"Wah, Hilde, you're so mean!" I tease, walking into the kitchen, where Hilde is getting an early lunch ready. I continue on into the family room, where Vicki is navigating the room by holding onto the furniture. Drooling all over the dark brown leather surfaces too, I note. Hilde's not gonna be happy about that. She just cleaned in here yesterday.
Vicki spots me standing in the doorway. "Da da!" she calls out gleefully, and my heart goes into my throat with love as she attempts to toddle towards me. However, she hasn't yet learned to stand without support and falls to her bottom. She lets out a piercing, painful cry, and quickly I walk to her, scooping her into my arms.
"Hey, hey, Peaches 'n Cream, no crying, or Da will have to sing," I tease, jostling her up and down playfully. "You don't want that, do you?" Baby Vicki immediately starts to laugh; she loves to bounce. Hilde comes and stands in the doorway, a bowlful of macaroni braced against her stomach.
"Please don't, Duo," she says. "By the way, what took you so long? It's almost eleven. Is everything okay?"
I look down into the chubby face of the cherub held in my arms. "Yup," I say softly, "everything is perfectly okay."
***
www.sympatico.ca
What About Me?
Chapter Three
Notes: There is a lot of medical talk in this chapter.
I have no idea what I'm talking about.
Just to make that clear.
***
I'm so sorry... but your cancer has not been cured...
Wow. How do you feel when someone tells you that? Should you feel so empty and cold, yet bitter and mean as I do? What a damn shame, one part of my mind is thinking sadistically, while the other sighs, Why let yourself hope, Duo? Nothing in your life would be so easy.
"Duo?" G asks uneasily. "Are you okay?" At my hard, frustrated look, he looks chagrined and murmurs, "No, of course you're not." I make a 'duh' sound and we both sit in strained silence, with me musing over what I'm going to do now and him musing over God only knows what.
G sighs and settles down to business. "Well, Duo, I really don't know what to tell you," he says, flipping through the stack of papers once again. "I've tried every technique I know of. I've asked colleagues and consulted textbooks. The only option left really is chemotherapy, which you absolutely refuse to consider..."
I grab my plait of hair and glare at him. "You don't understand how much this hair means to me. Hell, I don't even know."
"So much you're willing to risk your life on it?" G asks quietly. I ponder the enormity of that decision for a moment before replying equally as quietly.
"Yes."
G gives a loud and hearty snort of derision which sounds more like the laughter of a constipated elephant. He walks over to a cabinet and removes a small pill vial from inside. It gets tossed into the air and caught as he shuffles back over to me and drops it into my palm. I stare first at him and then at the vial in surprise, turning it over so I can read the prescription. The only thing written on it is a name I don't think I can even pronounce, much less spell. G starts to speak as I look over the bottle.
"Well, Duo, I'd hoped it wouldn't come down to this, but this is really the only option left to us. Before you commit yourself to this procedure, let me warn you it is potentially dangerous and untested. However, I believe it better to take one last chance than to let yourself go quietly, without a fight." He waits for my nod, then takes the cue and continues. "In rough terms, what's in that bottle is basically a hormone. It comes from an endangered plant deep in the rain forests of South America. It's very rare and extremely difficult to gather and produce into medicine. The plant is also very... how to put this... unpredictable. Once a man suffering from a cancer much like yours ate the plant, and his cancer, rare and untreatable, I might add, was cured within a week. In another incident, a perfectly healthy man ate it and died within a few hours. Highly unstable, as you can see."
I nod. Jesus, does G expect me to take this plant as a treatment? I glance down at the bottle and am reminded it's really my last choice. I think G and I both know the cancer is too far gone for chemotherapy to cure. Is it better to put up on last fight or throw in the towel and let death come for my tortured, battered soul?
G goes on. "Scientists have been studying up on this plant, Dr. Gayo among them. You remember Dr. Gayo, I've consulted with him many times on your condition. Anyway, they noticed that a high ratio of people with intestinal cancers such as yours are cured of their disease after the eating this plant. Now they're doing a formal study on it. Most of their patients are people with no choices left to them, such as yourself. I think this may be your best chance of survival, Duo. I will warn you, there's a 64% chance the plant will either speed up your cancer or kill you outright. However, the risk of death otherwise is much worse."
No feeling shows on my face, but my hands rub the bottle steadily between them. I don't fidget as normal people do when they're nervous. If I'm not anxious about anything, then I won't be moving. No foot twitching, no plucking of hair, no cracking of knuckles. I'm just content to be still, a fact most people who know me find hard to believe.
"How long?" I ask. I leave it up to Dr. G to figure which one of two ways that question can be interpreted.
"Without treatment, you would die in about two years. By one year, you would be bedridden. It's going to spread fast, Duo," he warns. "One day you'll feel fine and the next you'll feel like your insides are on fire as the cancer eats away at your intestines. It won't be pretty or nice. Your type of cancer is a manifestation of the L2 plague. When you didn't succumb to it as a child, it remained dormant in your immune system for quite some time. I suppose with the stress of the wars, your immune system could no longer keep it at bay and it appeared, not as the lung sickness, but in it's extremely rare and dangerous cancer from. Only one other person has had it in recorded history."
I give a scornful laugh. "Lemme guess, they died."
"Painfully," G replies.
I roll my eyes in a sarcastic gesture of thanks. I really needed to know that if I die it will be a horrible agonizing death, just like I needed to know your nose produces 50 buckets of snot a day. Honestly! Who wants to know, who cares, and who really needs to know that? Not me, thank you very much.
I regard the bottle again. Fascinating little cylinder of death, and possibly life. Was I really willing to risk it all? Was I willing not to?
"How long?" I ask again.
"If you start the treatment now, theoretically, it would take about three to six months for the plant to kick in. Remember, the man who ate it and was cured of his cancer ingested it in it's pure, plant form, not the processed pill version. A positive effect will eliminate the cancer's spreading in about nine months. By the end of two or three years, the cancer would be totally erased from your body. However, with a negative effect, in which the plant would either act as a catalyst to the cancer's spreading or poison your bloodstream, you could die in any where from three days to three years. It all depends on the nature the pill takes."
I force my hands to stop their rolling movement with the bottle. I let out a fast, deep breath and relax my body. No use getting nervous over it. I need to calm down and think this over rationally. What benefits can I reap from taking the pill? An increased life span and total elimination of the cancer. What can I lose from taking this pill? Basically, my life. Yet, I can also lose my life if I don't stake a chance on this last ditch effort. Either way, I could die. But by choosing one path, I most certainly will die, but if I choose the other road, I could possibly live. Well, no hard choice there. At least I'll be helping the scientific community.
I toss the bottle up in the air and catch it, throwing G a jaunty grin. "Well, it looks like I'll be taking this pill after all." I then address the bottle, still being tossed in the air. "Please don't kill me." G doesn't smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkle up. I laugh for him. "So how do I take these?"
"Take two every week. I suggest one on Sunday and one on Wednesday or Thursday. Whatever you do, take your dose the same time on the same day every week. If it looks like the cancer is abating, we'll lower the dosage to once a week. Fairly large pills, so I suggest coming in about once every two months. If Hilde asks questions, tell her it's just checkups for post battle stress. I know how you want to keep your cancer quiet. Every refill I'll do a scan and let you know the results at the next checkup."
"Okay, then, sounds all worked out. I'd better go then." I glance at the clock. "I've been gone a while. I've got," my voice softens, "a baby to get back to."
G does that weird (freaky too, I'll admit) smile with his eyes again and motions me toward the door. "Then by all means, hurry home, boy. Can't leave your little princess waiting."
I shoot him an mock exasperated look as I head to the door. "Hold it, old man, I'm not a puppet dangling on strings from her fingers yet." G just laughs and holds the door open for me. I pause in the opening. "Hey... thanks," I say quickly, not used to thanking the lecherous old coot for anything, and leave before he has a chance to reply. God, that was embarrassing.
***
"'ello?" I call easily, stepping through the front door into the foyer. "Where's the princess and the old hag who calls herself her nanny?"
"Duo!" a voice calls out, pretending to be angry. "Don't call me that, or no playtime with Vicki."
"Wah, Hilde, you're so mean!" I tease, walking into the kitchen, where Hilde is getting an early lunch ready. I continue on into the family room, where Vicki is navigating the room by holding onto the furniture. Drooling all over the dark brown leather surfaces too, I note. Hilde's not gonna be happy about that. She just cleaned in here yesterday.
Vicki spots me standing in the doorway. "Da da!" she calls out gleefully, and my heart goes into my throat with love as she attempts to toddle towards me. However, she hasn't yet learned to stand without support and falls to her bottom. She lets out a piercing, painful cry, and quickly I walk to her, scooping her into my arms.
"Hey, hey, Peaches 'n Cream, no crying, or Da will have to sing," I tease, jostling her up and down playfully. "You don't want that, do you?" Baby Vicki immediately starts to laugh; she loves to bounce. Hilde comes and stands in the doorway, a bowlful of macaroni braced against her stomach.
"Please don't, Duo," she says. "By the way, what took you so long? It's almost eleven. Is everything okay?"
I look down into the chubby face of the cherub held in my arms. "Yup," I say softly, "everything is perfectly okay."
***