That Elusive Cure 41
By lisa h
- 2003 reads
Thursday arrived and I woke up with the knowledge that at about ten o’clock a bunch of consultants and doctors would all be in a meeting room discussing my case. Dr Whoever-he-was who had subbed for our regular oncologist last week had mentioned surgery, and I still couldn’t believe it. Even if the pod never worked again I had options open to me.
Jimmy shuffled up the stairs and came into the bedroom with two cups of tea. “Good morning. Do you remember what’s happening today?”
He put one of the mugs on my bedside cabinet and stood by the door while I plumped my pillows and sat up.
“Yes, of course I remember what’s happening today. It’s the MDT.”
“When I spoke to Mr Noble’s nurse Jill she said she’d phone afterwards. Expect the phone to ring after midday. Excited?”
Still waking up, I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. I certainly wasn’t as anxious as I should have been. But that’s because in a mere twelve days whatever the doctors came up with wouldn’t matter anymore. I’d be cured and their proposed treatment would be moot.
“I might go out and ignore it all,” I said watching Jimmy for a reaction. “I got me a lover boy over at the gym. He texted me and maybe I’ll pay him a visit.”
Jimmy snorted. “You haven’t been to the gym in two years.”
I tried not to laugh. “Maybe I started going and didn’t tell you.”
“That reminds me. Do you know we’re still paying for your membership? Seems a waste. Could spend that money in better ways.”
“But how will I see my lover boy?”
Jimmy left, chuckling as he went into his study.
I lay there a while, sipping my tea and imagining a meeting room deep inside one of the Aintree hospital buildings, an unknown number of doctors and consultants giving my file time, studying my scans, deciding on my future. Jill would phone once she had news, but that wouldn’t be until the afternoon if past experience was anything to go by.
The book I’d been reading didn’t appeal. I did try, but the third time I read the same page and still didn’t absorb the words I gave up. A shower helped. I stood under the water, the temperature as hot as I could stand until my skin hurt and my head cleared. No point fretting. For all I knew, the machine would indeed finish recharging itself and I’d have no need for whatever the doctors were planning.
The phone rang as I dressed. I ran for it, my heart beating hard. Midday was a bit early, but maybe I was first on the list. I grabbed the handset and answered it breathlessly.
“Yes?”
“Mum, it’s me.” Cass, not the nurse, and she sounded like she was crying.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s the baby mum, I’m losing it.” She burst into tears.
“Oh no, Cass. Is Jack with you?”
Through her sobs I made out a yes.
“Sweetheart, I’m coming over.” I struggled with my socks one handed. “I’ll be over in half an hour. You hold on.”
I hung up and rushed the last of my clothes on.
“Jimmy, I’ve got to go to Cass’s. She’s losing the baby.”
Jimmy looked up from his computer. “Well, maybe that’s for the best. They are so young.”
“Jesus, Jimmy. Have a heart why don’t you.” I shot him a dirty look.
“Hey, just saying. It’s sad, but these things happen.”
Men. I turned and stalked off, grabbing my keys and leaving without so much as a goodbye. Jesus, how could he be so cold?
How far had things gone with Cass? Maybe the machine had charged up faster than anticipated. If the baby was still alive in her, maybe it could fix things. I veered off the route to Cass’s flat and stopped at the church. Since the fiasco with Jimmy I kept the key with me at all times. I opened up the church and ran inside. The panel opened and closed smoothly and the machine spoke the words that were now so familiar to me.
“Power restarting. Diagnostics initiating. Pressure in the nanoparticle chamber is 99% and functionality is restored. Nanoparticle density is 60% and not high enough for functionality. Estimated time to recharge nanoparticles is twelve days. Recommend recharging with MicroHealth nanoparticles. Please contact MicroHealth representative.”
I slammed my hand into the nearest pew. Shit. “Why can’t you be fixed?” I shouted at the pod.
Cass was waiting for me, and this stupid machine was useless. I locked up and drove too fast to my daughter’s flat. If only I hadn’t hidden the key at home. If only Jimmy hadn’t had to look inside the machinery. If only he hadn’t broken the damn pipe. I’d be fixed and I could race Cass over and mend the little baby inside of her. Tears welled up at the unfairness of it all.
I found Cass in a huddle on her bed. Jack attended her, playing a far better nurse to her than I could right now. The doctor had already paid them a visit, the advice given to let nature take its course. Feeling impotent I sat with her, listening to her cry and holding her hand.
As late afternoon drew in, Jack suggested I go. His usual goth makeup was absent and he looked ten years younger, like nothing more than a child playing at adults. I gave them both hugs and let them have their privacy.
The drive home was slower than the panicked race over earlier. But a deep anger was growing in me, anger at Jimmy for messing up, for breaking a miracle machine. I pulled in the driveway and a red mist descended over me.
Slamming the front door as I came in, I shouted up the stairs, “Jimmy get down here now!”
“What’s wrong with you?” He appeared on the half landing looking unsure.
“Your daughter is miscarrying your first grandchild and your reaction was a shrug of the shoulders. How can you be so fucking cold.”
He started at my words. “Just because I don’t break down in tears doesn’t mean I don’t feel. How dare you.” He turned to go back upstairs.
“Oh no you don’t. Get down here.”
He hesitated.
“Now!” I shrieked and lobbed my keys at him. “Cass’s baby has died and I could have fucking fixed it! If you hadn’t broken the machine, if you hadn’t been such a fucking meddler, then none of this would be happening!”
Jimmy recoiled, rubbing his arm where the keys hit. “I don’t have to listen to this. I’ll talk to you when you’re rational.”
“Don’t you fucking ‘rational’ me.” I took the stairs two at a time, chasing him down. He’d gone to hide in his study. I grabbed a file off the shelf and heaved it at him. “You fucked it all up! I could have been cancer-free by now. Cass could be fine, but no, you had to have a look. You had to have a fiddle. Couldn’t you have kept your big fucking fingers to yourself?”
He sat there silently, his expression dark.
“What if you hadn’t found Bob? Then what? You’d be completely in the dark. The machine wouldn’t have stood a fucking chance with you ballsing it up.”
I grabbed a pencil pot and hit him in the chest with it. Pens and pencils flew in all directions.
“You’re an idiot, you know that, a fucking idiot!”
Jimmy remained infuriatingly silent.
“Answer me!” I stepped towards him, and he flinched. “I’m not going to hit you, for god’s sake, I just want an answer. Why did you have to break my miracle?”
That was it. The tears started to flow. I stood there, weeping, feeling the sadness that seemed to root itself deep in my soul. Jimmy did nothing, just sat there, finger inked across his belly, his eyes narrowed into slits.
“Dad’s got prostate cancer. The machine diagnosed him,” I said between sobs. “What if it never works again and he dies?”
Jimmy didn’t move.
“Goddamn it, don’t you have any emotions?” I was reaching for another folder when the phone rang.
“You going to get that?” Jimmy finally spoke, his voice cold.
Wiping my eyes and dragging in steadying breaths I picked up the handset.
“Hello, may I speak to Kath Wyatt?”
“This is Kath,” I replied.
“Oh hi, Kath. It’s Jill here. I have news.”
I wiped at my face, trying to dry the tears while the nurse spoke.
“Mr Wright doesn’t feel he could successfully remove all the tumours. One of them is very close to the hepatic artery and he’s not convinced he’d be able to get clear margins.”
I slumped against the wall.
Jill continued, “There was a specialist in radiotherapy in the room when your case was being discussed. Dr Feldman says you’re an ideal candidate for a new kind of treatment called radioembolisation or SIRTs. His nurse will be in contact shortly to make an appointment with you.”
I thanked her for calling and hung up the phone. Not the news I’d expected. I couldn’t deal with anymore changes and went to lie down. My bedroom was cold and I threw the covers over me and hugged a pillow. The red mist had dissipated but the harm had been done. No matter how much Jimmy deserved my anger it didn’t help matters. Tears flowed again, and I pulled my legs close and cried quietly to myself.
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Comments
red mist' is a bit of a
red mist' is a bit of a cliche. apart from that a clean bill of health. I like the-jusifiable-anger and I like the knowing she could have fixed her daughter and her dad anger.
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So much going on here Lisa. I
So much going on here Lisa. I'm wondering if there is more to jimmy keeping quiet than we know yet. He was reluctant to try the machine and i'm also wondering if there was another reason he tried to find out how it works. Is he keeping something from her? Just a thought...
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I think when you're re
I think when you're re-writing this, structurally this anger needs to come earlier (perhaps as a slow boil?)
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I willingly take the blame!
I willingly take the blame! This is a cracking episode. I still want to kill Jimmy though.
Linda
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In this episodic form you're
In this episodic form you're missing out a lot of extra characterisations. I can only assume when you edit each part will be bulked out a lot more. I understand keeping them low on here to keep the readers, but it has so much more to say. I love the little sub plots here with the baby... she's beginning to realise that this machine could save a lot of people.
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