"Well, your blood pressure looks good and you say you feel okay-
that's as good as it's going to be for now, Mr. Simpson," Dr. Jones, a
doctor who made house calls to check on terminally ill patients, said.
"Thanks doc," Snake said, struggling to sit up in bed. Ever since he'd been diagnosed with leukemia, he'd lost all his strength and, at the moment, his will as well.
"Stay off your feet as much as you can, of course, and get a lot of rest." The doctor pushed himself out of the bedside chair and closed his medical chart. "The chemotherapy may start working. Give your body the time to recuperate."
"Yeah, yeah, I will," Snake said between gasps of air. "I'll rest."
The doctor smiled and turned to the doorframe where Spike stood, listening to the conversation between her husband and the doctor. Dr. Jones gave her a faint smile and took her by the arm into the hall. Spike shut the door behind them.
"I'm not a specialist by any means, Mrs. Simpson," the doctor said, "but in what I do, I have been exposed to numerous cases such as your husband's."
"And?" Spike asked.
"Listen, I've seen people make miraculous recoveries, recoveries that modern medicine probably would have deemed impossible."
"Again I ask, and?"
"Mrs. Simpson, you and your husband were high school sweethearts, correct?"
"We had some time in high school together, yes. Doctor, listen, I don't mean to be pushy, but I'm tired and the baby's spitting up and Emma's not home yet. Is there a point to the questions you are asking me?"
"It's just that I think you should be thankful you have a lot of memories of your husband to reflect on."
"So, you're telling me there's no hope?" Spike's voice dropped to a whisper, careful not to raise her it because Snake might be able to hear the conversation through the door. He'd been so down on himself lately, so sad and depressed, not the wise-cracking, smart-aleck Archibald Simpson she'd had a crush on in high school and wound up marrying. The last thing she wanted was for him to overhear a conversation about him not being able to make it.
The two made their way outside as if to search for the right words to continue their conversation.
"As I've told you before, there's always the possibility of a miracle. I see all types of patients and I've seen all types of miracles." Dr. Jones paused and bit his bottom lip. "But, Mrs. Simpson, I've also seen a lot of, um, how do I put this?"
"Tragedy? Dying? Hurt? Pain? Is that what you're getting at?" Spike found her voice getting louder, but she managed to catch herself before she got too loud.
"Yes ma'am, that's what I meant."
"Why would you sit here, in my home, and tell me this? Why would you, someone who is admittedly not a cancer specialist, sit here and try to tell me my husband is dying?" Spike's whispered screams were scathing in tone.
"Listen, Mrs. Simpson," Dr. Jones said, collecting himself, "I didn't come to hurt you. I only want you to know something."
"Make it quick, my daughter is on her way home, and I don't want her overhearing anything. She doesn't need to worry about this."
"I want you to know how lucky you are that you have the memories of your husband that you do. I want you to remember those memories and share them with him. If you have anything to tell him, I suggest you tell him soon. That's all I'll say."
Dr. Jones seemed to vanish after he finished his spiel to Spike.
Spike stood on her front porch for a few moments, attempting to gain her thoughts. She had been aware of that Snake's days were numbered. At first, she told herself he'd beat it, but in her heart, she had a sinking feeling that he wouldn't. She kept a positive exterior, but inside, she had been torn up from the beginning.
"School's out!"
The sharp voice opened Spike's eyes. It was Emma. She had never been happier to see her daughter.
"Hey, Em! How's it feel to be in grade 10 now?" She reached out and hugged Emma.
"So good!" Emma said with a smile. "It's been a long year, you know?"
Spike sighed, smiled, and nodded. "Yes, I know."
"Oh, and look at this," Emma said reaching into her backpack. "My marks this term were fantastic."
Spike reached out and took Emma's report card and smiled. "I'm so proud of you."
"Me too," Emma said.
She took her report card back and stuffed it in her backpack. "So, mom, how was the doctor's visit?"
The question took Spike by surprised and even caused her to shudder a bit. "Oh, it was, well, okay. He's just a general doctor anyway, he doesn't really know what he's doing besides taking vital signs and things like that."
"What'd he say, mom?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing."
"Mom!" Emma said, tilting her head sideways, scrunching her forehead, and giving her mom a demanding look.
"Okay, okay, why don't we go inside?" She placed her arm around Emma's shoulder and took her through the door.
As they sat on the couch, Spike took a deep breath, something she seemed to be doing a lot since Snake had gotten sick.
"Mom, tell me." Emma touched her mother's hand that was noticeably trembling.
"Emma, sweetie, it's his opinion that Snake doesn't have much time left. He told that he, um, thinks that if we have anything to say to him, we should now." Spike began to rapidly blink to hold back her tears.
Emma looked down at the floor and then closed her eyes. She'd been waiting for her mom to tell her that news and she'd tried to prepare herself. It wasn't working.
"Well, you said yourself that this guy doesn't really do anything besides check vital signs," Emma said trying to ease the mood. "I mean, really, what does he know? Yeah, he checks on sick people, but what does he know about them?" She was searching for things to further her denial.
"Yeah, I mean, he doesn't really know anything. He's probably a quack. Maybe he isn't even a real doctor. Maybe he just carries that bag around. I mean, even I can take blood pressure, right?" Spike's weak smile tried to illuminate the mood, but it couldn't. Emma was young, but far from ignorant. "Well, hey, mom, I told Liberty that I'd come hang out with her some tonight. She's been lonely since her and JT broke up." "Sounds fun, Em." "Will you tell Snake I'll talk to him later? I have a great story about the new media immersions teacher that he'll love to hear." "Yes, I will." Spike smiled. Emma opened the door to the front porch. Standing there, she peered over her shoulder, tears welling up in her eyes, and gently spoke, "I love you- dad."
"Thanks doc," Snake said, struggling to sit up in bed. Ever since he'd been diagnosed with leukemia, he'd lost all his strength and, at the moment, his will as well.
"Stay off your feet as much as you can, of course, and get a lot of rest." The doctor pushed himself out of the bedside chair and closed his medical chart. "The chemotherapy may start working. Give your body the time to recuperate."
"Yeah, yeah, I will," Snake said between gasps of air. "I'll rest."
The doctor smiled and turned to the doorframe where Spike stood, listening to the conversation between her husband and the doctor. Dr. Jones gave her a faint smile and took her by the arm into the hall. Spike shut the door behind them.
"I'm not a specialist by any means, Mrs. Simpson," the doctor said, "but in what I do, I have been exposed to numerous cases such as your husband's."
"And?" Spike asked.
"Listen, I've seen people make miraculous recoveries, recoveries that modern medicine probably would have deemed impossible."
"Again I ask, and?"
"Mrs. Simpson, you and your husband were high school sweethearts, correct?"
"We had some time in high school together, yes. Doctor, listen, I don't mean to be pushy, but I'm tired and the baby's spitting up and Emma's not home yet. Is there a point to the questions you are asking me?"
"It's just that I think you should be thankful you have a lot of memories of your husband to reflect on."
"So, you're telling me there's no hope?" Spike's voice dropped to a whisper, careful not to raise her it because Snake might be able to hear the conversation through the door. He'd been so down on himself lately, so sad and depressed, not the wise-cracking, smart-aleck Archibald Simpson she'd had a crush on in high school and wound up marrying. The last thing she wanted was for him to overhear a conversation about him not being able to make it.
The two made their way outside as if to search for the right words to continue their conversation.
"As I've told you before, there's always the possibility of a miracle. I see all types of patients and I've seen all types of miracles." Dr. Jones paused and bit his bottom lip. "But, Mrs. Simpson, I've also seen a lot of, um, how do I put this?"
"Tragedy? Dying? Hurt? Pain? Is that what you're getting at?" Spike found her voice getting louder, but she managed to catch herself before she got too loud.
"Yes ma'am, that's what I meant."
"Why would you sit here, in my home, and tell me this? Why would you, someone who is admittedly not a cancer specialist, sit here and try to tell me my husband is dying?" Spike's whispered screams were scathing in tone.
"Listen, Mrs. Simpson," Dr. Jones said, collecting himself, "I didn't come to hurt you. I only want you to know something."
"Make it quick, my daughter is on her way home, and I don't want her overhearing anything. She doesn't need to worry about this."
"I want you to know how lucky you are that you have the memories of your husband that you do. I want you to remember those memories and share them with him. If you have anything to tell him, I suggest you tell him soon. That's all I'll say."
Dr. Jones seemed to vanish after he finished his spiel to Spike.
Spike stood on her front porch for a few moments, attempting to gain her thoughts. She had been aware of that Snake's days were numbered. At first, she told herself he'd beat it, but in her heart, she had a sinking feeling that he wouldn't. She kept a positive exterior, but inside, she had been torn up from the beginning.
"School's out!"
The sharp voice opened Spike's eyes. It was Emma. She had never been happier to see her daughter.
"Hey, Em! How's it feel to be in grade 10 now?" She reached out and hugged Emma.
"So good!" Emma said with a smile. "It's been a long year, you know?"
Spike sighed, smiled, and nodded. "Yes, I know."
"Oh, and look at this," Emma said reaching into her backpack. "My marks this term were fantastic."
Spike reached out and took Emma's report card and smiled. "I'm so proud of you."
"Me too," Emma said.
She took her report card back and stuffed it in her backpack. "So, mom, how was the doctor's visit?"
The question took Spike by surprised and even caused her to shudder a bit. "Oh, it was, well, okay. He's just a general doctor anyway, he doesn't really know what he's doing besides taking vital signs and things like that."
"What'd he say, mom?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing."
"Mom!" Emma said, tilting her head sideways, scrunching her forehead, and giving her mom a demanding look.
"Okay, okay, why don't we go inside?" She placed her arm around Emma's shoulder and took her through the door.
As they sat on the couch, Spike took a deep breath, something she seemed to be doing a lot since Snake had gotten sick.
"Mom, tell me." Emma touched her mother's hand that was noticeably trembling.
"Emma, sweetie, it's his opinion that Snake doesn't have much time left. He told that he, um, thinks that if we have anything to say to him, we should now." Spike began to rapidly blink to hold back her tears.
Emma looked down at the floor and then closed her eyes. She'd been waiting for her mom to tell her that news and she'd tried to prepare herself. It wasn't working.
"Well, you said yourself that this guy doesn't really do anything besides check vital signs," Emma said trying to ease the mood. "I mean, really, what does he know? Yeah, he checks on sick people, but what does he know about them?" She was searching for things to further her denial.
"Yeah, I mean, he doesn't really know anything. He's probably a quack. Maybe he isn't even a real doctor. Maybe he just carries that bag around. I mean, even I can take blood pressure, right?" Spike's weak smile tried to illuminate the mood, but it couldn't. Emma was young, but far from ignorant. "Well, hey, mom, I told Liberty that I'd come hang out with her some tonight. She's been lonely since her and JT broke up." "Sounds fun, Em." "Will you tell Snake I'll talk to him later? I have a great story about the new media immersions teacher that he'll love to hear." "Yes, I will." Spike smiled. Emma opened the door to the front porch. Standing there, she peered over her shoulder, tears welling up in her eyes, and gently spoke, "I love you- dad."