Chapter 66
Let me take some of the punches for you tonight
His legs were heavy as he trudged down the hall, the chart tucked firmly under his arm, on his way to have a second difficult conversation. Medically he knew where he was but emotionally he was feeling out of his depth and there was only one person he could consult with.
Standing before the door, he inhaled sharply as he raised his hand to knock. Pushing open the door, he smiled at the older man behind the desk.
"Doctor Drake? Do you have a few minutes?"
Looking over the top of his glasses and seeing the strained look on the young man's face, Noah sighed silently and waved him in. There could only be one reason why Eric would come to see him and he knew they were about to have an inevitable conversation – one he had been dreading since his son's diagnosis.
"How bad is it Eric?"
"Bad" he admitted as he lowered himself into the chair on the other side of the desk. "Doctor Drake-"
"Noah" he corrected gently.
"Noah. Pants- Patrick's tumour is growing."
"May I see the films?" he asked, motioning towards the chart under his arm.
Flipping on the light box that sat on the corner of his desk, he carefully pulled the film from the folder and set it against the box. He stared, expressionless, at the image before him and tried to ignore the persistent pitch and roll in his stomach. Despite the number of times he told himself that it wasn't happening again, that he wasn't about to lose the only other person that mattered to him, he knew now it wasn't true.
"Are you going to operate?" he asked, feeling the quiver in his lips as he did so.
Eric nodded. "I don't have much choice. There is one treatment option left and I had not wanted to go there given that it's hit and miss most of the time but this is my last chance to get us close to optimal conditions."
"Chemo?"
"Yeah."
"How did Patrick react when you told him?"
"I didn't get a chance. Did you know he was taking Botox injections to quell his tremors?"
Noah's hazel eyes widened in shock. "I had no idea. What the hell was he thinking?"
"Said he did it for Robin."
Stifling an anguished cry, Noah cradled his head in his hands. "This is my fault."
"Noah – this is not your fault."
"It is. I had breakfast with him a while ago and I told him he needed to look out for Robin, he needed to be aware of the impact of illness on the caregiver. I never…I never dreamed he would to this. I just wanted him to be sensitive to Robin. I …. Oh god. What have I done?"
Leaning forward, towards the desk he tried to catch his eye. "Noah, listen to me. Patrick was going to go down this path regardless of what you told him. He's not thinking clearly – he's afraid and the tumour is inhibiting his capacity for objective reasoning."
Letting out a slow, steadying breath he dropped his hands to the desk and sat back in his chair. "Robin and I had an argument."
"What?"
"About a month ago. She asked me – she begged me – to tell Patrick the truth about his mother's last days – last months. About what the disease did to her – and to me. About the pain and the mood swings and violent outbursts. The last three months of her life were terrible Eric. In her lucid moments, rare as they were, she was still my Mattie but most of the time she was in agony and behaving irrationally. We did our best to keep it from him."
"Even if Patrick didn't witness all that, don't you think he on some level, especially now, knows it happened?"
Picking up the pen that lay by his keyboard, he began to run it through his fingers. "I don't believe so" he told him quietly. "We worked very hard to limit the impact of Mattie's…of all it… on him. Mattie wanted him to have only good memories and I guess we succeeded. Robin thinks if I tell him the truth that he may cut himself some slack, that he won't try to hold himself to the standard that he thinks his mother set. Eric, it is embarrassing to admit but I think you know my son better than I do – what do you think?"
Exhaling, the young doctor tiredly rubbed his hands over his face. "He loved his mother very much Noah – and he loves you" he added, "but no one wants to live with a lie. Death has a way of turning people's lives into myths – all bad traits disappear and all good traits are exaggerated. I can't say if knowing his mother suffered and how both of you struggled will help him deal with what's ahead of him, but I do think it may help him in general."
"Now may I ask you something?" he ventured, "I know it's a very sensitive subject but I need some advice and I think you may be the only person who can give it to me."
Noah nodded, anticipating where the question was headed. "Fire away."
"How did….how did you stay objective when it came to operating on your…on Mrs. Drake?"
"I believe the case has been made that I wasn't," he replied quietly.
"That's not true" Eric said quickly. "I read the post-op report. Your technique was textbook, every action you prescribed was on the money – it was the tumour that was too far gone."
Folding his arms across his chest, he eyed the young man carefully. "How did you get a copy of the post-op report?" he asked tightly.
"Patrick had one. All through med school, a couple of times a semester he would pull it out and review it, looking for mistakes or errors – some way to place the blame on the surgery and not on the disease."
Noah gasped. He had missed so much – big moments and small details. And while they were working their way back into a relationship – or stumbling their way back into one – he had not asked his son to fill in the blanks of the last decade; partly because he didn't think it fair to do so and partly because he was afraid of moments just like this one. The image of his son reading and re-reading the clinical evaluation of the last hours of his mother's life stopped him cold.
"Eric, maybe it's better if you aren't the surgeon," he suggested.
"Doctor Dr- Noah," he amended, "There is a part of me that agrees with you but Patrick trusts me and he has asked me to do this for him. After everything he did for me how can I say no? He is not asking for something beyond my capacity or talent."
"Take his name off the file."
"Pardon?"
"Take his name off the file" Noah repeated, "put another name - a name you don't know – so that when you open the chart you aren't flooded by memories."
"Does….does it work?" he asked, wringing his hands nervously.
"Not totally," he admitted, "but it's a start." Feeling suddenly overcome with the need to see his son, Noah pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. "You say you didn't get the chance to tell Patrick about the next steps?"
Eric shook his head as he stood up. "He took off"
Pursing his lips together, Noah nodded as he reached for his coat. "I think…I think my son needs me."
"Noah, I have no idea where he went."
"I think I do. Thank you for coming to see me Eric, I appreciate it."
Oblivious to the cold, his hands tucked up under his arms, Patrick sat on the bench and stared down at the small outdoor rink. His heart was racing so fast, he could feel the blood coursing through his veins. His mind was racing even faster than that.
As an adult he had always thrived on control. He did not let go easily and give over to flights of fancy. Even when he was giving Robin a hard time, before they were dating, about her inability to just be in the moment he knew he was being a hypocrite of the worse kind. He only ever existed in the moment once he was sure he could. He did things, like racing, that brought him to the ragged edge but never over. He had never just lost control.
But with the reality of what was going on with his brain, control was now excruciatingly out of reach. Whatever happened going forward he had no power over it. He had never been more frightened in his life.
He looked up in surprise as a paper cup with steam escaping through its lid was thrust in front of him.
"It's too damn cold for you to be sitting out here" Noah said as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
"How…" Patrick wrapped his hands around the cup. "How did you know where to find me?"
Peeling back the plastic tab on his lid, Noah brought the cup to his mouth and blew on the hot chocolate sending the steam billowing into the air. "I may not have been around much for you in the last years but some habits die hard. I'm just glad that Port Charles is smaller than Manhattan. I only went to three rinks before finding you."
Patrick said nothing and stared back at the young boys playing shinny. The wind carried their voices and he smirked as one called for the puck, sounding very much like he did at their age. He could hear their blades cutting through the ice and remembered when he used to spend hours at the local rink. Any problem he had as a kid vanished the minute his blades touched the ice. He wished that was still the case.
Taking a drink of the hot chocolate and feeling immediately warmed, he tilted his head and looked at his father. "I suppose Eric talked to you."
"He did. He told me about the Botox."
Patrick sighed and dropped his head. "I know it was dumb but….but Robin…I heard Robin tell Mac that she hated my tremor because it reminded her of how sick I am and that it made her sad and I just….I just…"
"Wanted her not to be sad?" he finished for him.
"Yeah. Dumb, I know."
"It's not dumb – well, it was medically dumb but Patrick there is nothing wrong with wanting to make another person happy. You just can't do it at your own expense."
"I know" he agreed quietly. "Did he tell you the rest?"
"Yeah. That was some rough news –I wish I had been there with you when you got it. So you wouldn't have been….alone."
He didn't speak for several moments as he gazed into his cup. He wanted his mother. He wanted his father. He wanted Robin. He wanted everyone to just convince him it would be okay.
"I'm going to die" he croaked, a tear spilling into his hot chocolate. "I finally find someone who I love in ways I never knew possible and I'm going to die."
Setting his drink down on the bench in front of him, Noah inhaled sharply and draped his arm around his son's shoulders. "No you are not" he told him confidently.
"Dad-"
"Patrick – you are facing a tough road ahead, there is no doubt but this is not a death sentence. The surgery is scary and I would give…" his voice trailed off as he tried to steady himself, "I would give anything to take your place. You are not going to die."
"That's what Mom said before she went into surgery and we know how accurate that was."
Sucking in a breath, he cupped his son's chin and turned his face towards him. "Patty there were so many other factors there. It's been more than a decade; the advances in microsurgery are substantial. You have a much better chance than your mother did."
"I think Eric is going to put me on chemo," he said quietly as he turned his gaze back to the rink.
Noah nodded. "He is."
"I can't do this to Robin" he said hoarsely. "I can't let her watch me fade into nothing – she….she deserves someone who….." he shook his head unable to finish any of the multitudes of thoughts whirling around in his brain at warp speed.
"Son, you aren't doing anything TO Robin. She loves you and wants to support you through all of it."
"That's the thing" he snapped angrily, "she has already been through all of it; with another boyfriend. She shouldn't have to go through it again. It would be better if I left-"
"Running solves nothing."
Patrick scoffed. "You should know," he countered bitterly.
"Yeah I should and I do. Patrick, do you honestly think that Robin's worry about you will be less if you were somewhere else?"
Like an out of control roller coaster, he continued to ride the peaks and valleys of his temper. He sighed heavily, wishing he had more self-control. "If she were free she could move on – to someone healthy."
"But she wouldn't be free" he reasoned. "Son, it isn't physical proximity that determines a relationship. The heart neither recognizes nor understands distance. You could live on Mars and if she's in love with you then she isn't free."
He cradled his head in his hands and clenched his eyes shut. Nothing in his life had felt as difficult as this did. He thought back to the day he stood on the roof of the hospital, after pricking his finger in the OR and he remembered feeling helpless and afraid then. That paled in comparison to the abject terror he was living with now. Robin had showed him the way then, demonstrating grace at every opportunity and offering him the safety of her heart.
Though not ready to admit it then, he was already in love with her and now wanted to kick himself for the moments he had wasted chiding her about her insecurities, pushing her free herself of what he felt was too much self-restraint. Instead of enumerating her failings, as he saw them at the time, as a way to keep emotional distance between the two of them, he should have found the courage she had to be honest. If he had been honest from the start he would have had more memories with her, more moments, and more experiences. He had cheated himself and it made him sad.
"I don't know how to tell her" he admitted.
"Do you want me to go with you? I could be with you while you tell her tonight."
Patrick shook his head. "I can't….I don't want to tell her tonight. We're…we're doing a Valentine's thing at midnight and we have the gala tomorrow. I don't want to ruin that for her."
"Sport," he began softly, "if you are waiting for the perfect moment, there isn't one."
"I know and I'm not. I just…I want her to have this because once I tell her then everything will change."
"So you'll tell her Sunday? After the gala?"
He nodded. "Do you… could you…would you still be willing to be with me and help me tell her?" His tone was tentative. He loved his father but he didn't always like him and he was still unsure about trusting him.
"Of course I will. I will be with you every step of the way Patrick."
The two men sat in silence again, each lost in their own thoughts and concerns over what was to come. For Noah, this was an opportunity for atonement. He could never undo what he had done but he could ensure that his son never felt abandoned or alone.
"Dad?"
"Yes Patty?"
Patrick turned to face his father, his brown eyes brimming with tears.
"I'm scared."