Page 124 of Something Like Forever
That sounded good! Maybehis body had pummeled cancer into submission. Soon he would be aposter boy testifying to the wonders of modern medicine.
“Theselatest scans—” Dr. Staples said, turning to the images hanging up.That’s all he heard. He swayed, his brain wanting to deny theevidence of his eyes. If he hadn’t been sitting down, he would havefallen. Those couldn’t be his latest scans, because he had studiedthe old ones and had them memorized. The scans hanging up wereidentical. Nothing had changed.
“Mistake,” Timmumbled.
“Are youokay?” Ben asked, eyes wide with concern.
“Sorry,”Tim said, shaking his head. “Those aren’t the newscans.”
“They are,” Dr. Staplessaid patiently. “Take a deep breath. I know it’s a lot to digest,but we can go over it slowly. If you have any questions, we canstart there.”
“Why does it look thesame? The tumor. You said it would shrink.”
“Not alltumors respond to chemo in the same manner. Some even start to growfaster, but that’s exceptionally rare. In your case, the tumorappears to be the same size, which—”
“So Iwas on chemo for nothing?” Tim demanded. “I feel like shit and myhair is falling out! I can barely eat!”
Dr. Staples held up herhands. “I understand your frustration, but we agreed to try thisinstead of an invasive surgery. Remember?”
“Yeah,” headmitted.
“Keep inmind too that the tumor might have grown over the previous weeks oreven metastasized, but it hasn’t. The cancer is controlled! You’restill at the same clinical stage. While we haven’t made progress,we haven’t lost any ground either. It also gave us time to exploreother solutions.”
Like the genetic test tosee if he had the EGFR mutation. If so, he could have popped somemiracle pill that might wipe out the cancer. He hadn’t looked intothat much, not wanting to get his hopes up, and he was glad becauseit turned out he didn’t qualify.
Dr. Staples sighed. “Ireally expected better results, but we aren’t out ofoptions.”
“Thelobectomy,” Tim said, mouth dry.
“Yes,”Dr. Staples replied. “There is a surgeon at MD Anderson I’d likeyou to meet.”
Tim nodded. “And if I gothrough with the lobectomy, after we remove that part of the lung,the cancer can’t come back? I’ll never have it again?”
“You’llbe in remission,” Dr. Staples said carefully. “That means we won’tbe able to detect cancer in your cells with any of our tests. Butthere is always a chance of recurrence, or even a secondary cancerelsewhere, so I can’t make that promise. No physician can, butconsidering your age and excellent general health, I feel veryconfident of your chances.”
Tim checked out mentallyfor the rest of the appointment. Ben had plenty of questions tocompensate for his silence. Afterwards, when Ben suggested they goout to eat or do something fun, Tim declined. All he wanted was tobe home, so that’s where they went. Currently he was in thekitchen, looking in the refrigerator for a beer. A single bottlesat there, chilled and ready to go. At least one thing had goneright today!
“It’s alittle early,” Ben said when noticing him opening it, optinginstead for a glass of water. Then he shook his head at himself.“Go ahead. You’ve earned it. I’m sorry the results weren’t what wewere hoping for.”
“It’sfine,” Tim said, taking a swig. Then he clenched his jaw, becausenothing was fine. “I don’t know if I can keep mypromise.”
“What?” Ben set his drinkon the counter and marched over to him. “What’s that supposed tomean?”
“You heard what she said!”Tim was on the verge of shouting. He didn’t mean to, but all theanxiety and doubt he had been holding back finally engulfed him.“Do you know what a lobectomy is?”
“They’ll remove part ofyour lung. I know it’s scary but—”
“Scary?”Tim spluttered. “It’s fucking terrifying!” He set down the beer andlifted up his shirt, pointing beneath his right pec. “They’re goingto cut me open starting here, and all the way around to my back!”He let the shirt drop. “Then they’re going to spread my ribs open.That’s what they call it, but if you haven’t noticed, our ribsaren’t too flexible, so what they really mean is a fracture. I’llhave a tube shoved down my throat so I can breathe and one shovedup my dick so I can pee. That’s just the beginning! How about onein my spine for the pain meds, or another in my chest to drain pussand air? Don’t forget that they’re doing all this to rip out achunk of my lungs and—” He couldn’t breathe. He felt too winded andhis hands were shaking, but he forced himself to continue. “Afterall that, they can’t even promise I’ll be better. Assuming theprocedure doesn’t kill me, I’ve got a—” He braced himself againstthe counter, still huffing. “I think it’s a one in twenty chance ofbeing in chronic pain the rest of my life. No wonder Eric didn’twant to fight! Sometimes I think I’d rather…” He shook his head,unwilling to say the words, but only because he knew they wouldhurt Ben.
“Breathe,” Ben said, coming closer and putting a hand on hisarm. “You have every right to be upset. I would be too. I am! Justtake a few deep breaths for a second. Okay?”
Tim nodded, but he wasn’tfinished. “I’m freaking out. I’ve always tried to be brave for you,but I’m a coward, Benjamin. I’d be running away right now if Ithought it would do any good. I don’t want to let you down. Ireally don’t, but I might. If that happens… I guess I shouldapologize now, just in case.”
“Youdon’t have to apologize,” Ben said, chin trembling. “You don’t haveto keep that promise. We’ll strike it from the record. You onlymade it to cheer me up. You were being romantic, and I took it tooseriously. So no more promise.”
Tim felt relieved. He wassurprised how much of a burden was lifted from his shoulders. Partof him would miss it, but right now, he was too weak to shoulderanything. “Thanks.”
“I love you,” Ben said,moving closer. “No matter what happens.”
