Date: Tue, 06 Sep 2005 14:22:38 -0500 From: M Logan Subject: By The Way - chapter 3 By The Way Chapter 3 By Mark (yeah, Mark). Learn it, live it, love it. Now, name the movie. mlogan6969@hotmail.com I'm not sure how to explain how this story will go and I hope that it won't get too confusing to be interesting. Y'all are smart though so I'm sure you'll immediately know what I'm saying. Basically all of the stories on Nifty are flashbacks, or written in the past tense. For a little while I'll have to use flashbacks to explain some history, but eventually we'll get all caught up and you won't have to worry about "damn, when is he writing about now." Life goes on. . . . Paul * * * * * * * * * * * * Glen pulled up to my house in his Prelude. That damn car was seven years old but he loved it. I think there's an unspoken rule that if you drive a Honda you must either drive it A: like a complete moron, or B: a speed demon. Glen drove like a speed demon. I walked up to his car, opened the door and sat down. It always had a certain smell that I associate with Glen. Not bad, almost like a constant new car. Not that he smelled like a new car, his car did, but I always thought of him when I smelled that new car smell. Whatever. "Just drive," I said. "So what's goin' on," he said. "I have cancer and it's malignant." It was then that the floodgates opened. I don't know if the valium had finally taken it's toll on me after all that time. If so they should charge less for it because it was at least an hour since I'd been given that shot. I put my face in my hands and just started crying. "Fuckin' cancer. Christ almighty," I said. "Whoa," he said somberly. "My God, I can't believe it. I'm nineteen fuckin' years old and I have cancer." "What kind is it?" he asked. I could tell by his voice that he was stunned but trying to keep it together for me. "Hodgkin's disease. It's a cancer of the lymph system." "That's what they found in you neck?" "Yeah," I said sniffing. "Shit." "But you know, I always wanted a new hairstyle." At that I just burst out laughing. Sounds crazy I know, and I was feeling like a mental patient. "What do you mean?" "I have to have chemo, and my hair will more than likely fall out." Glen let out one of those "holy shit" kind of snorts, then said, "Holy shit." I started crying again. I had absolutely no control over my emotions and was an obvious basket case. "Oh my God," I moaned. "You know just when I thought everything was going so well and right in my life, and now this! Fuck!" I laughed again. "Dude, I feel like such a basket case inside." "So what happened at the doctor's office?" he asked. "They had to take bone marrow out of my hips because they wanted to see if the disease had spread into my skeletal system, or whatever. It hurt like a mother fucker." "Yeesh!" We sat there not speaking for a while and he just drove. I don't even know where we drove to. I'd been living there for much of my life, eight years, and Glen just drove and drove. I was actually lost. It must've been the emotions. I know we talked some more but it's all a blur now. I alternated from laughing to crying. What a great friend he was. Is. "So what's the next step. What do they do now?" "Well once we find out how far the cancer has spread we'll be able to treat it more accurately. He said that I'll have to start a sperm bank since more than likely the chemo will make me sterile." "Man!" he whispered. "Yup," I replied. "Of course we both know that doesn't matter." Glen knew I was gay and he laughed at that. "I'm sorry, man, I don't mean to laugh." I looked over at him for a second then I started laughing. Again. He laughed again. Then I burst out laughing as well. It was crazy and I think that we both needed some comic relief. He was laughing so hard that he had to pull over and stop the car so we wouldn't wreck. "I'm sorry," he said again, through tears of laughter. "Dude, I understand. It was kinda funny." "No. I'm sorry that this is happening to you. I really am." I looked ahead out the windshield. So much had happened to me; so many changes in only a few years that I wasn't necessarily thrilled about. Maybe I could take this as a fresh start to life, a new beginning. Maybe this was one of those challenges that we face in life that's supposed to be life changing. Maybe I should start smoking crack. Then and there I decided that I'd tackle this situation head on. I couldn't become a slave to raging sad emotions. No matter who was there for me for support, I had to be the one to personally deal with the tests, the results, the treatment...everything. I'd have to be strong. For myself. I resolved that this wasn't going to kill me, physically or emotionally. "Well are y'all gonna get a second opinion?" Glen asked. I hadn't even thought about that. "Huh. I guess so. I'm sure it was brought up this afternoon but I've been a bit out of it," I smiled. "Understood." I let out a long sigh. "Well man, I guess I'm ready to go back home." "Okay," he said, and we headed back towards my house, talking about everyday normal stuff. I was lucky to have him for a friend. We finally pulled up to my house and I started to get out of the car. "Thanks again man," I said. "I really appreciate it." "No problem," he smiled back, "let me know if you need anything." "I will. See ya later." "Alright." I headed into the house with a better attitude about the whole situation. Sure, I might lose my hair but it would grow back. I was young and knew I still had plenty of life left in me. I couldn't let something like this get me down, and keep me down. * * * * Thankfully the bone marrow tests came back negative, but we still had to find out whether or not the cancer had spread to the rest of my lymph system. This test would turn out to be a beaut. My parents requested that all of my medical records be sent to a Dr. Goodstein for a second opinion. In the meantime we had already scheduled the lymph system test (I'm sure there's a Latin bullshit name for it) with a doctor over at Emory University Hospital. I brought my walkman with me so I could listen to music because they said that the test itself would last for around forty-five minutes. Yipee. Dad and I finally saw the doctor who'd be performing that procedure. Woof! He was in his early forties, balding somewhat with dark hair and mustache. He wore glasses that gave him a bit of an intellectual look and his dark hair made him look kinda swarthy. I don't even friggin' recall his name now. Secretly I hoped that he'd climb on top of me during the procedure and hump me like a dog, but that would be hard to explain to any passers by, including my dad. Well, Dad already knew I was gay but I didn't flaunt it in front of anyone. Dr. Humpme sat us down and explained that he'd just spoken to Dr. Goodstein, literally just moments before we arrived at the hospital. The good Dr. G-spot (his hip-hop name) wanted to postpone the lymph system test so he could review my medical records with my folks and myself. Basically that day was a bust and we immediately went home. A few days later we all went to see Dr. Goodstein at his office and he explained that he had some good news and some not-so-great news. I like good news so I asked for that first. "Well Paul, it looks as though Dr. Kahn may have been mistaken about the disease spreading." "Excuse me?" I asked. "I had the opportunity to review some of the x-rays and c.t. scans that you had on your abdomen last year and found something interesting." God. Last year was a pip. Three times I'd been hospitalized for severe stomach cramping or something. I'll go into it more later but basically nobody could find anything wrong with me physically. It was actually mental, in my own opinion. No, the pain was really there and it was excruciating. I couldn't even hold water down in my stomach; I'd just throw it up. On one visit to the hospital I had a G.I. specialist check me out for ulcers and anything else that could be wrong. I had countless x-rays and c.t. scans of my upper and lower G.I. Those scans were the ones that Dr. G was referring to. "I found that what Dr. Kahn originally believed was the spreading of the Hodgkin's was actually a nodule [or something] that everyone has. The reason he saw it in the first place was because you have little to no body fat, which usually hides this particular nodule. Dr. Kahn saw this and thought it was, again, the disease." "So then, why do you think that it isn't?" I asked him. "Because those c.t. scans were taken thirteen months ago, and if that nodule was Hodgkin's affected then it would have had this long to spread and it didn't. Luckily you had those c.t. scans made last year or we wouldn't have had any time span to compare today's x-rays with and you would have most certainly been treated with chemo therapy instead of radiation." "So what your saying, doctor, is that Paul doesn't have to have chemo at all?" from my dad. "Well, there are still some more tests to run, including the lymph node test that you were scheduled the other day for." You know, the one with Dr. Humpme. "And we've also identified some tissue in your lungs that we'll have to examine. Most likely it's just scar tissue from the flu or a really bad chest cold, but we need to be sure. For now we just need you to reschedule you appointment over at Emory with Dr. McCoy." Good. So Dr. Humpme has a name. The next week dad took me back to Emory and we met with Dr. Humpme again. Oops! Dr. McCoy. This procedure would prove to be a real pip. What they had to do was, get this, give me a shot of zylocane between each toe in order to numb my foot. I guess knocking me over the head was out of the question. Then once my foot was numb Humpme would make an incision on the top of my foot, about an inch long. He'd find the lymph vessel, which ends near the top of the foot, and insert a needle into it. He compared this to threading the end of a hair with a needle. Sounds easy I'll bet. Then once the vessel was threaded I had to lay there for forty-five minutes without moving because if the needle slipped out we'd have to start over again. No thanks! Dr. Humpme started performing the procedure and I was extremely gun-shy from the last one (bone marrow aspiration) and was loaded for bear. But it didn't hurt as bad. Having a needle inserted between each toe was something I could do without, for the rest of my life. I guess I'll never be a candidate for heroin. Damn! Once he threaded up the vessel he came up to where I was laying and put his hand on my arm. "I'll be back in a few minutes to check on the progress of the pump," he said. I could fall into those eyes. Yeesh! "And what does this do?" I asked. "Basically the machine pumps, very slowly, a dye into your lymph system and we take c.t. scans from your neck to your pelvis. The dye helps the lymph nodes show up on the scans and we can see if the disease has spread to your system. Dr. Goodstein has a feeling that it hasn't but we need to be sure." The whole time he had his large hand on my arm. Please don't let me sport wood, I thought. That might look funny. "I'll be back in a little bit," he said, patting my arm. I watched as he turned his back to me and walked out of the room. You could see that he was a strong guy by the way his jacket fit his back. I saw a little bit of hair over the top of the collar. Yum! Daddy! I was left alone to my thoughts. That wasn't so bad if you're a genius, but I'm not so I had to just lay there and listen to my music. You know, I really had it pretty good up to then. I guess. Well maybe not. I wasn't one of those people who thought (thinks) that God is just sitting up on the Throne waving a wand, snapping his fingers or wiggling his nose. Okay, maybe that was a bit blasphemous, comparing God to Samantha Stevens on Bewitched. I was never really "churchy" but I absolutely believe in God. I'm not one of those people who believes in Divine Intervention on a daily basis. I don't think that I was being a turd and God gave me Hodgkin's disease. Personally, I thought that it was my opportunity to close some old chapters in my life and start a new book. Consider the c.t. scans the previous year when I had those unexplained stomach problems. Had I not had them, I wouldn't have had scans for the good Dr. G to compare whatever node they were seeing in me today, to the previous year. Though I wasn't really excited about the circumstances that led to the stomach problems in the first place, well, I was really thankful that they occurred, simply for the reason that it all was keeping me from having chemo therapy. You wanna know what happened, don't you. What sort of turmoil was occurring in my life that made me so mental that I wigged out and my body reacted so badly. Bitin' at your nails, ain'tcha. Oye! That's another story. Well not really. It's my story. And it certainly was significant in my life that I feel the need to include it here. So I guess I need to rewind back to my junior year again and talk some more about Don. * * * * * * * * * * * Welp! That's this installment. Things'll go kind of slow in the beginning because I need to set the stage, if you will. Lemme know. mlogan6969@hotmail.com Mark