Author's note: Oh my gosh you guys, thanks so much for the reviews! They were a big help in the direction this story went. I'm glad you all liked it. This has been interesting for me; I've really tried to do a little research about cancer and chemotherapy. So I hope this is believable. So with not much else to say except, the powers of be, please don't sue me….
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The next week the three Epps men sat once again waiting in a doctor's office. Don not thrilled that they had to be there at all, but was thankful that he could be there for his brother. It had taken some doing at work to get some time off to be with his brother. Don had had to haggle and beg, and he suspected that if this hadn't been Charlie, who had helped them so much as of late, that the FBI wouldn't have let him go so easily. As it was he was still getting daily reports from his team on the drug scandal. It seemed at least for now that work wasn't going to be too much of a problem, they were still fact finding to work their way to the top of the drug ring food chain.
His current concern though was Charlie. Don hadn't been able to attend the meeting with the doctor after the biopsy. The news hadn't been good. The slap in the face was when Alan and Charlie learned that the biopsy had indeed been positive, his lymph node in his right leg had been infected and cancer had been growing there. That enough had struck both men speechless. But the punch in the stomach had been to find out that the cancer hadn't originated there, but rather had grown from the primary source. More tests had been needed to deduce where the cancer had started.
Don had come over to his brother's house and learned the crushing news. He couldn't understand why they were going through this again so close to losing their mother. The mood in the household had been tense. Charlie brooded for days. Alan wouldn't let him escape to the garage, so he sat on the floor in the living room, pouring over things for school and equations for Don as he tried to ignore the fact that his father kept checking on him every 15 min. Alan had confided in Don that he felt like he didn't want Charlie out of his site for fear that he might actually disappear and they would never see him again.
All this had brought them back to the doctor's. Charlie had gone through several tests to find the primary source of the cancer and they were waiting for the results. It was a very tense situation for them. Don was more nervous than he had been in awhile, he couldn't imagine how Charlie was feeling. He scanned the room again for the umpteenth time, searching for anything to distract him from the fact that his baby brother was sick.
Alan was sitting on Charlie's right, with Don on his left. He had placed a fatherly hand on Charlie's shoulder, partly for support and partly to make him feel better. If he could feel Charlie, then he knew that he was still alright. It made him feel a bit childish to think that something so simple was keeping him going. The hardest part about losing his wife was not being able to touch and feel her. Charlie was a lot like his mother, and now Alan was afraid that he wouldn't be able to feel him either.
Finally after what seemed like ages, the doctor returned to his office and greeted the Epps men.
"I've got better news," he began. "We've located the primary source of the cancer. It seems to have originated in your colon and then from there traveled to your leg. We're very fortunate. It seems that we've caught the cancer pretty early. Now that we understand what it is, I can recommend an aggressive treatment."
"How aggressive?" Don asked.
"We can perform a surgery to clean out most of the cancer, and then I recommend chemotherapy treatments. I believe it's the best way to clear out the cancer. If all goes well, you could have a quick recovery. Of course there'll be side effects to the treatment, but the end results will be good."
"So he has a good chance of recovery?" Alan asked.
"I'd say about 90, yes, that's an excellent chance. Like I said, we caught this early, and that's giving you a big boost on your chances."
Alan felt more relieved than he had in the last week and a half, everything was going to be okay, and he wasn't going to lose his son. "When should we schedule the surgery?" he asked.
"We can set it up in the next couple of days. I recommend that Charlie take at least a day or two to prepare, get affairs at school and such in order while he's recovering. We will also give you all some literature to read, so you are more informed as to what you can do to support Charlie."
"That shouldn't be a problem, shouldn't it, Charlie?" Don looked at his silent brother. He had just realized that Charlie hadn't been speaking since they got there, and now he had that concerned look in his eyes, the one that said 'I'm nervous or scared about something.'
"Charlie?" Don asked again.
"Huh? What?" Charlie came out of his thoughts.
"School, can you take care of your classes at school?"
"Oh, yeah, we're at the end of the semester anyways. Amita has the finals already, and we worked it out that she can administer them and grade them. Larry will send the grades in for me. I'm free till the fall." Charlie explained.
"Good," said Alan. "We can concentrate on you then."
"Mmm," mumbled Charlie. "Can we go now?"
"Yes," said the Doctor. "We'll see you soon for the surgery."
Charlie got up and exited the room quickly. Don and Alan thanked the doctor and hurried after him. They waited till after they had scheduled everything and were back to the car to confront him on his mood. But after a few attempts they realized that he wasn't ready to open up to them about his feelings, so instead they inadvertently distracted him with an innocent question that resulted into a full blown math explanation that neither of them understood. And while it was confusing to hear Charlie talk, it was also comforting to know that he was still their Charlie, cancer or none.
XXX
Charlie thought this is what dying must be like. He was four days into the chemotherapy treatments. The doctor explained that the treatments would last 5 days and then he would get a two week break. Because the surgery had gone so well, the doctor was hoping that Charlie would only need two or three rounds of the chemo treatments. The surgery hadn't been so bad, and Charlie had started to think that he was going to be able to handle all this with no problems, but even though he had been warned about the side effects of the treatments, it wasn't until he started to experience them did he realize the pounding his body was taking.
Every day for the five days of treatment, Charlie would go to the hospital and they would hook him up to an IV that would give him the treatment. He was kind of tired of people prodding him after all that had happened, but tried to remain calm. It was only their jobs after all.
The side effects were awful. At first it was just fatigue, but then he started feeling very nauseous. Occasionally he'd brake out into coughing fits that were extremely unpleasant. But the real insult to injury happened after day two. The doctor had explained that there was a chance that he wouldn't lose his hair. Charlie wasn't a vain person, but he loved his curly hair, it made him different from everyone else in the family. He had really hoped that his hair wouldn't fall out, but after the second day it started to come out in chunks and Charlie had been crushed. His father and brother insisted it would grow back and tried to reassure Charlie that it'd be okay in the end, but it was hard to keep things in perspective when your hair was falling out.
Now on day four as Charlie lay in the hospital, he closed his eyes and concentrated on something other than what was happened to his body. He wondered how finals had gone. He thought about the current drug case Don was working on. He calculated problems in his head. He just didn't want to dwell on what was happening. He didn't want to think about how weak he had become or that his insides seemed to be staging a mutiny on him or that his hair was gone and he was covering his very bald head with a bandana. He thought about good things and math and knew that he only had one more day to go and this stage would be over.
He was very thankful when Don entered the room. His dad and Don had taken turns taking Charlie to the hospital. It gave Don a chance to go to work every other day and Alan took the time cleaning the house or resting when Don drove. His older brother walked up to where Charlie lay and smiled.
"How's it going buddy?" he asked his little brother.
"It's no day at the beach, or a math conference," Charlie replied.
Don laughed, "Only you would think going to a math conference would be fun, and besides the beach is so crowded this time of year with tourists."
"Yeah, I'd probably sun burn my head too," Charlie said. He tried to continue but was cut off by a fit of coughing and sickness.
"Are you okay?" Don asked.
"I guess so."
Charlie could feel his brother's gaze upon him. Suddenly the guilt welded up in him and he dared to ask a question that had been on his mind since the first time he had his dad had gone to the doctor's.
"Hey Don?"
"Yeah Charlie?"
"Do you think I'm being punished?"
"What? No! Why would you think such a thing?"
"I just thought maybe I was being punished for not seeing mom before she died," Charlie's voice died off into a whisper. At the time of his mother's illness and death, it seemed so logical to hide away and work on math, but now he wondered if somehow not being there for his mom had created some divine retribution.
"Charlie," Don didn't know where to begin. "Charlie, this has nothing to do with mom. Don't even think that. Mom understood you. She would never want this for you, no matter what you do. Don't even think that."
"I just…" Charlie began.
"Shhh," Don placed a hand on his brother's head. "Don't think it. Now try to rest. I can take you home soon."
"Okay," Charlie replied. He closed his eyes again and tried to concentrate on the numbers.
XXX
It was the second Monday since the first round of Charlie's chemo. Don walked into the office on that bright Monday prepared to get in a full week of work before Charlie started the second round of treatment. The drug case was still progressing at snail speed and Don hoped to make some headway this week. Some big busts could really help them with the brass upstairs, who had cut him some slack due to Charlie's illness, but now were ready to see results.
He walked into the office to find David and Terry already there. They were having a heated discussion about the computer program they were using to plug information of flow of drug distribution into Charlie's equations. When Don entered the room, they both looked up and greeted him.
"Don, hi! How's Charlie doing?" Terry asked.
"Better this week, but he's not looking forward to the treatments again. I'm going to go see him at lunch time if you'd like to come with," Don offered.
"That would be nice," Terry accepted.
"My dad would like that too. I think Charlie's starting to drive him nuts, he's a little cooped up with nothing to do."
Terry laughed as Don looked in on what they were working on. The work progressed quickly and before they knew it they were both in Don's SUV driving to his house.
When they got there they found Alan making lunch in the kitchen. They could hear Charlie's animated voice floating down from upstairs.
"Hi Dad!" Don greeted his father.
"Hello Don, Terry," Alan replied. "I'm just finishing packing lunch for you two; I know how busy things are."
"Thanks so much, Mr. Epps," Terry said.
"Alan, please."
"Alan then, thank you."
"You're very welcome," Alan smiled at Terry.
"Dad, that isn't Larry up there bothering Charlie when he's suppose to be resting, is it?"
"No of course not!" Alan replied. "It's Amita."
"That might be worse!" Terry joked.
Don and Terry made there way upstairs to Charlie's room. They peeked through the half open door. Charlie was propped up in bed, the covers over his lower half, math notes and books scattered the room. Amita was half sitting, half leaning on Charlie's pillows and they were having a disagreement about a particular equation on Amita's thesis. Don and Terry entered the room unbeknownst to the two, and Don cleared his throat to get their attention. Immediately Amita shot up and away from Charlie. Charlie got a 'busted' look on his face and did his best to straighten up. Terry had to stifle a laugh.
"Is this resting?" Don asked.
"The cancer is in my butt, Don, not in my brain. Amita came over to drop some things off from my office and we kind of got carried away," Charlie quickly explained.
"I need to be off anyways," Amita excused herself. "I'll call later?"
"Sure," Charlie replied and smiled. "Thanks for the things."
"Anytime!" Amita retreated down the steps.
"What is this anyways?" Terry asked.
"It's the notes from the drug case," Charlie explained.
"Charlie, you don't need to be worrying about this," Don scolded.
"No, Don, its okay. I had an idea. We're tracking the flow of the drugs, right? That way we're hoping that we can trace them back to the terrorist. Then I started thinking, why not track them through money too? Here, I set up some equations," Charlie started pulling sheets of paper out of a notebook.
"Wait a second, Charlie. I'm not following you," Don said.
Terry seemed to understand though, "We're not finding money at every bust, right? That means the money exchanges hands differently than the drugs!"
"Right!" Charlie exclaimed. "So if you track the exchange of money and the exchange of drugs, you've got two paths to follow to the terrorists, not just one."
"This is good!" said Don. "You should still be resting, but this is good. Are these completed?"
"Yes," replied Charlie.
"Then we'll take them back and have David input them into the computer program. Thanks buddy! Now, maybe you should get some rest?"
"Okay, I'm really not tired though…"
"Charlie, close your eyes and be quiet!" Don commanded. Charlie sidled back down beneath the covers and begrudgingly closed his eyes. Within minutes he was fast asleep, to weak and tired to do anything else. Don and Terry quieted excused themselves and collected their lunches from the kitchen.
Once outside Terry ventured to comment. "He doesn't look to good, does he?"
"Not really."
"He'll be okay," it was more of a question than a statement, but Terry wasn't sure what to think.
"I hope so. He's such a big help, and he's my brother. Even though I spent all that time away after high school trying to get away from him, I don't know what I'd do without him now."