Mistress of the Game
Page 4
Chapter 3
June 1, Toronto, Canada
It was mid- morning and Toronto’s Bay Street was crawling with financial types out to have early business lunches and to make deals. Sarah and Philip Arthur-Beck sat a foot apart in the waiting room of the doctor’s office, south of King on Bay. They were not alone and as in many cases – if people would be honest with themselves – they wondered what others were there for. Being an Infectious Disease Specialist’s office, there wasn’t too much to choose from and this office, despite being the fourth such office they’d visited in the last two years was more tastefully decorated. She recognized a Teddy Dako photo hanging on the wall beside the receptionist’s desk and a very large Peter Van Rijn in the left hand corner. That last one was especially captivating; it was his classic fiery one taken very close to Mount FitzRoy and Mount Poincenot in Patagonia.
Sarah looked impatiently around her and noticed a neat rack of magazines. She leafed through the O Magazine, skipping several pages as if looking for a particular article. As her hands shook uncontrollably, she tried to look nonchalant and murmured a whispered sorry as she lifted her large purse off the chair next to her. A woman and her child quietly took the seat and murmured their thanks. Seated beside her and also looking painfully uncomfortable was her husband Philip. Tall, close to 6 feet tall with closely cropped blond hair and hazel eyes, he wiped his forehead every few minutes as the sweat appeared on his forehead in the fully air-conditioned office. Each time he coughed, Sarah reached over and rubbed his back. He had lost so much weight in the last year and they were hoping that today’s appointment would help them figure out a way to wellness. They didn’t have too long to wait.
“Philip Arthur-Beck?” the receptionist softly asked.
Philip got up without looking at Sarah but she got up anyway. They followed the nurse to a well-appointed room with oak chairs and a matching table. Again, more Peter Van Rhijn’s displayed on the walls. Dr. Franklin must be an avid collector of twenty first century photography, she thought. They were asked to sit in front of the C-shaped desk and before they knew it, they were left alone once again.
An uncomfortable silence ensued, broken only by the heavy breathing coming from both of them. A small car sped past the window, breaking the grip on their subconscious and forcing them to look in the same direction. As they tried to recompose themselves, their eyes met. Philip looked at his wife, almost as tall as him, black hair fashionably worn in a weave with carefully made up face, sporting a pair of black Capri trousers and a casual blouse and jacket. She looked stunning as always and could easily pass for a decade below her thirty-eight years. Sarah, looking at him, also caught a lot in that thirty second look – a man who was still good looking despite having been unwell the past year, distinguished looking even, dapperly dressed in a casual short sleeved shirt and khaki’s. His eyes couldn’t hide the fact that he was afraid.
“Are you ok?” she asked.
He nodded. He was lying and they both knew it.
“At least we’ll know what the problem is…you know? You won’t have to wonder why your nodes are always swollen and painful, not to mention the interminable fatigue.”
Philip was still quiet so she continued to talk to fill up the awkward silence.
“Its probably nothing – just some allergic reaction to something you’ve been eating. You know how you’re always drinking these weird concoctions my mother sends you from Ghana. Do you remember that one that came in a tightly wrapped bottle with absolutely no label or instructions? I remember mom telling you to mix it with water – again no measurements – and take one tablespoon twice a day!”
This made Philip smile and that seemed to set his lips free to talk.
“Hey, you’re laughing at indigenous African medicine – known to have cured thousands if not millions of people in the mother country for as long as people have walked the earth!” he said in defense of a land that he now lovingly referred to as his own. A spasm of coughing came over him. Sarah rubbed his back as she laughed with him, teasing while running her dark brown fingers through his straight blond hair.
“Whatever! Look who’s talking about indigenous African medicine, white boy! You’ve got to be careful with those things you know. Coming from a country where you don’t need a prescription for antibiotics – you can just get them from a street hawker and also tell them how many pills you want – I wouldn’t trust any unlabeled concoction within a mile of my body!” Sarah added.
This was the perfect time for Dr. Franklin to come in. He saw a happy couple, and he visibly relaxed also. He sat behind his desk and waited till the laughter quieted down.
“I’m glad to see you laughing and also to meet…”, he paused as he waited for one of them to continue.
“Dr. Franklin, this is my wife Sarah and Sarah, this is Dr. Franklin.”
They exchanged pleasantries and then it seemed it was time to get down to business. He shuffled a couple of papers in the folder he’d brought in with him, pushed his horn-rimmed glasses closer up the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat.
“Well as you know, Dr. Kendrick – Philip’s family doctor - was concerned with some symptoms that Philip was having – the fevers and chills, diarrhea, swollen lymph nodes and so he ordered some blood work. These indicated a very low white blood cell count. He thought it best to refer him to a specialist and this is when Philip and I first met, two months ago. We talked about what he was going through, did a full scale physical to be sure that the conditions we tend to see with his demographic – Caucasian, male, early forties, no known history of heart disease or blood pressure or diabetes – could be ruled out. I had to escalate the search for a cause and so we did some more blood work to try to find out if there was any significance to the symptoms you reported to me. The results are in and there is no better way to say this…”
Sarah reached for Philip’s hand and clasped it tightly. They both stared at the doctor like he held their lives in his hands, and in a sense, he did.
“You have a high concentration of HIV antibodies in your blood.” He waited for this information to sink in.
Sarah’s clasp loosened on Philips hand. He in turn started coughing. They both leaned in closer to the doctor as their hands, now placed on the edge of the table moved around frantically, but never touching one another.
“Excuse me?” Sarah asked softly yet firmly.
Dr. Franklin closed the file, took his glasses off and stared first at Philip and then at Sarah.
“Philip, you have HIV infection.”
What seemed like an eternity suddenly took physical, emotional, mental and spiritual residence between Philip and Sarah, a chasm so wide that looking at its invisibility was guarantee that you’d never come out of it alive. The lack of sound became oddly colourful, swirling in a mesmerizing mess around the three occupants of a room that had previously held laughter. Now, it held nothing. Philip and Sarah sat staring at Dr. Franklin.
“One of the important measures of HIV infection is the CD4 count and the magnitude of the count lets us know how best to treat it. What you are presenting is not so far gone that you cannot be treated for it and as soon as we are able to explain everything to let you know where you stand, we can start the paperwork for getting you the necessary medications including antiretrovirals to start the process of helping you live with the infection. Also, since your CD4 count tells us that your viral load is high, it will be a good idea to test Sarah for the infection and to try as much as possible to control it.”
A very deep silence permeated the room, so deep and stifling that Sarah had to do something sudden to break it and she did. She pushed herself away from the desk, stood up, pushed the chair back and marched out of the room, her heels clicking behind her as she sped out of the frightening situation she found herself in. Philip spun around, attempting to catch up with her but Dr. Franklin placed a vice-like grip on his wrist, stopping him in motion.
“Philip, let her go. Everyone reacts dif
ferently to such devastating news and she has to be alone for a while to digest the information. Don’t worry, she’ll be back.”
Philip looked up at the doctor, his eyes welling up with tears. Dr Franklin was almost getting used to this most awful part of his job but there was no denying that it never got any easier. He waited a while for Philip to vent whatever emotion he felt – nothing happened - so he proceeded.
“I know that telling you that I know how you feel is not going to make it any better, but please know that I have done this many times, more times than I wish. I’d like to help you work through this process but it can’t happen without you being very honest with yourself…and with Sarah. According to the questionnaire you filled out on the first day you were here, you said you’d never had any blood transfusions…correct?”
Philip slowly nodded. His tongue felt very heavy and he could taste the salt from the tears that were slowly dripping down his cheeks.
“And, do you have any idea how you could have contracted the virus?”
Philip didn’t look up but his body starting heaving. Dr. Franklin allowed the emotion to continue and when he felt he could ask the question again, he did. Philip shook his head slowly to indicate no.
“Several years ago, having HIV and AIDS was like a death sentence but today, due to the work of several hardworking scientists, we can prescribe a cocktail of drugs that will help you live with the disease. Of course with access to antiretrovirals, HIV hardly kills anyone - we now know this. In your case, my main concern is the CD4 count which is low and looking at the chest x-ray I think you have a chest infection, which is associated with a low count. This is therefore my main concern so we will start you with an antibiotic called Septrin and then we may need to add the steroid Prednisolone - this will work to decrease the inflammation due to the cysts in your lungs. You’ll have to be hospitalized for part of this process though…is that alright?”
Philip nodded.
“Alright? We’re going to start by scheduling some counseling for both you and Sarah. You do not have any children do you?”
Philip shook his head.
“Good. I mean in this situation it’s actually a relief to hear that there is no child. I need to let you know though that the low CD4 cell counts you have, do indicate that the infection didn’t just happen yesterday. Its been getting worse and this means that the most infectious stage is in the past, during which time I believe you have been sexually active with your wife?”
Philip nodded.
“Do you have emotional support or are you each other’s only support?”
Dr. Franklin had to wait a while to get an answer from Philip. He reached out to him with the tissue box and Philip grabbed a couple of tissues and cleaned his face up. When he did speak, it was very soft and slow.
“I have two sisters…one lives in Calgary and the other is in BC and my brother lives in Toronto…he’s currently out of work. Sarah’s parents are in Ghana and she has a brother in Maryland. Our family here is really the church – we’ve been a part of it for almost ten years – ever since we first met as students at U of T.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. It’s critical that you have a lot of support at this time. We are also here, my team of doctors, nurses, and counselors will be on hand to give you any support that you need. Much of your healing – physical, emotional, mental and spiritual will be helped by having loved ones around you who can support both you and Sarah, especially if her tests come back positive for the virus.”
Philip gave out an uncomfortable laugh. Startled, Dr. Franklin looked up.
“Support? Are you trying to say we’ve got to let others know?” Philip said startled.
“Well…within reason Philip. Keeping it all to yourself is okay at this early stage but what happens when the symptoms get worse? You’re already losing weight, you’re always tired and that persistent cough…it won’t go away overnight.”
“But Dr. Franklin… I can’t tell anyone…what will they think?”
Dr. Franklin sighed deeply. Clearly, he’d been here before and knew when he had hit a major roadblock.
“Philip, can you tell me one good reason why no one else…why no one who loves you shouldn’t know that you are battling this disease?”
Philip sat bolt upright. He had regained his composure and was ready to deal.
“Yes I can. There are many actually. First of all, I could lose my job. Some years ago, I lost my IT job in the recession. I had to go back to school for a Bachelor of Education degree and I’ve been teaching high school computer science successfully since then…almost five years. My students can’t know that I have AIDS – what will they think? What will their parents think? My mother is elderly and needs looking after and my older sister who was helping out has had to move farther away from her because her husband got another job in another province. My other sister is a widow with four children of her own. I can’t let any of them know that I have this dreaded disease. Back in Ghana – where Sarah comes from, it carries a death sentence as well as ostracization. There are even some who believe that it’s a curse from God…I can’t do that to them…can’t you see?”
Dr. Franklin nodded understandably. He really did not see but his professional conduct was always at stake in these consultations.
“You mentioned the church was like a family to you…can you tell someone there?”
Philip gave a very hollow laughter; one that grew in intensity and began to sound macabre in its falsetto tones. Dr. Franklin felt the hair on his forearms stand on end. This man did need support but how to make him aware of it…that was the sixty-four million dollar question.
“Ah…yes, the Church,” Philip admitted.
“And?” Dr. Franklin prodded.
Philip got up slowly and walked around to one of the Van Rhijn photographs on the wall. He ran his fingers over the pure white petals of the Trillium flower in the beautifully framed image. The dewdrops on the petals reminded him of the teardrops on his own cheeks.
“I could never tell anyone there,” he said softly.
“And why couldn’t you?”
Philip ran his hands through his hair in confusion. Just then, his phone rang. Dr. Franklin signaled that it was okay to pick it up and Philip walked towards the bookshelf to take the call.
‘Hello?” he softly asked
“Hey bud!” said a cheery voice.
Philip smiled as his younger brother’s voice worked its magic to relieve some of the stress he was feeling. He suddenly seemed stronger, standing up straight and wiping the errant tears from his eyes.
“Hey wassup?”
“That’s what I was gonna ask. Are you anywhere near downtown? I called you at work and that curmudgeon of a school secretary rudely told me you had taken the day off.”
“Yah, I’m on Bay at a doctors appointment. You want some lunch?”
“Hey, a loser won’t say no!” Jason laughed.
“Lets meet at Spinoza’s on College – remember where Chris and Tad had the fight with the cops that New Years Eve? It’s been refurbished so lets go chill.”
“Wild horses won’t be able to keep me! See you at 1?”
“Sure – one is good. Ciao.”
Dr. Franklin, ever the consummate professional didn’t ask for a debrief of the ever so brief conversation. Instead, he gently reprised the conversation they had been having before the call came through.
“And you both like your church right?”
“It’s a great place to be, don’t get me wrong – I always feel safe in there – my spirit is at peace and my faith in my creator continues to be unshakeable. We pride ourselves on the fact that though there are different cultures represented in the church, we are all one body.”
Dr. Franklin looked confused.
“Well if you are one body…and I presume this means you share each other’s pains and joys…wouldn’t it be the safest place to share your pain?”
“Yes, if you’re a member.”
&n
bsp; “Which…if I am not mistaken, you are?” Dr. Franklin was grasping at straws and Philip did not look like he wanted to help.
“Yes, I’m a member.”
“So what’s the problem?” Dr. Franklin said exasperatedly. He felt himself in danger of losing his professional composure.
Philip sighed deeply.
“I’m also the Assistant Pastor for Youth.”
It was obvious that Spinoza’s had had a complete makeover. Gone was the tacky outdoor café with the striped lawn type chairs. In its place, still outdoors was some art deco furniture that looked like it belonged in a loft in New York’s Tribeca. Jason arrived a few minutes after one, grabbed a seat close to the restaurant entrance so that Philip would have no trouble seeing him. Although they both lived in the Greater Toronto Area, they saw each other only about four or five times a year. Not because they didn’t want to – on the contrary - but Jason was always hopping from one engineering job to another to try to help pay for his student loan. Whenever Philip’s school was on Spring Break and wanted to meet up, Jason was off to Nevada, Australia or Chile for an engineering contract. His last gig had been in Porgera in the Enga province of Papua New Guinea.
The two brothers were close but like the true men they were, they didn’t make a big deal about it. Jason was shocked when he found out whom Philip was marrying but knew that his brother had enough common sense for both of them; Jason was always the reckless one who got away with murder. If Philip liked Sarah and honestly thought he could have a life with her, who was he to stand in his way? He was very anxious when he heard Philip planning a trip to Africa but was too ashamed to admit it – after all, he was supposed to be educated and therefore unbiased. How could he say he was afraid that his brother wouldn’t come back from Africa alive? All these thoughts run through his head as he got to the door of the restaurant and was shown in by one of the receptionists.
A waiter approached his table and handed him the lunch menu. A quick glance told him he’d be wise to start with a soft drink.
“A tall crushed orange please, with ice.”
Just then, a weak looking Philip could be seen crossing the road towards Jason’s table on the sidewalk of Justice Street and College. Jason was stunned. What happened to his tall strapping brother? The one who’d played point guard for the University of Toronto’s varsity basketball team? He was just coming from a doctor’s office…something was definitely wrong.
Jason took a sip of his drink just as Philip got to his table. The brothers hugged, slapping each other on the back and looking at one another.
“So where have you been? Or better yet, how have you been?”
“Whoa chill…have a seat and let me get you something to drink,” Jason insisted. He called out to the same waiter who’d brought his drink and ordered the same one for Philip. And then he waited for an explanation from his only brother about why he looked the way he did.
“So, how was Porgera?” Philip deflected the question in Jason’s eyes by focusing on his brother.
“Good. But I’m glad to be home to see you. Wassup bro?”
“Good, we’re good.”
Silence.
The waiter came back and they immediately placed an order for some Angel hair primavera, sausage and pepper penne with garlic bread. They sat looking at each and there was an uncomfortable silence.
Philip sighed.
“I have AIDS.” There, he’d said it.
The time-space continuum seemed to collide, as Jason’s drink fell out of his hand and spilled on the table, creating a puddle that was dangerously mixed with glass. He stared at Philip, pieces of broken glass still in his hands and drops of blood throbbing on the surface of fingers that had previously held a full glass of orange juice.
“What?”
Philip looked away, a pained look replacing the earlier excited one he’d worn on seeing Jason.
“Phil? What are you saying?” Jason demanded.
“Exactly what I said. I have AIDS.”
“Why?”
“What kind of stupid question is that? I have AIDS because I contracted the virus from someone or someplace…”
“And?”
“It was a someone.” Philip added softly.
A long pause ensued, after which Philip took a long swig of his orange juice. He swallowed painfully and then continued.
“She’s in our church and it happened just once – I’d never cheated on Sarah before. By the way, she knows I have AIDS but we haven’t had a chance to talk about the whole thing since…I just got the news this morning.”
The food arrived and Philip lost no time digging into it. Jason sat stunned, still blown away by everything: his brother’s body, his brother’s illness and lastly, his brother’s attitude. What the hell was going on?
“Are you going to die?” he asked. Gosh, what a stupid question, he thought.
Philip chuckled.
“That would be sweet….considering the pain I’m already in, both physically and mentally not to count emotionally. I have no idea if Sarah would have changed the locks by the time I get home and I am facing the prospect of never having sex with my wife again. That seriously sucks…the sex I mean. Hey, let’s talk about you – where’s your next gig going to be?”
Jason was glad for the reprieve. Philip dying of AIDS was the worst possible news he could think of and at this moment, his new job was worth nothing…nothing to write home about.
“I may be going to Africa, Ghana actually/”
“Really?” Philip just about jumped from his chair. He looked so happy and excited and this helped Jason shake off the blues that had so cruelly descended upon him.
‘Yah, but I’m not sure I should go anymore…you’re not well Philip.”
“I know. But, if you stay, there is no guarantee I will get better. The doctor will start me on some antibiotics next week and then some steroids and the antiretrovirals. You know, not many people die from AIDS anymore. Hey, tell me about the job…will make me feel better.”
Jason sighed.
“Well, it’s with a Calgary based company called KM Gas. They’ve started drilling for oil in the Cape Three Points area near a place called Axim in the Western region of Ghana.”
“Very cool. Wow…and the pay?”
“I’m almost embarrassed Phil. It’s not like teaching where you change lives. I’m just going to be lining the pockets of already rich people. $150,000 just seems too much.”
“GET OUTTA HERE! $150,000? But you’re only - like…twelve!”
Both men began to laugh. Jason finally felt hungry and reached for the Penne, eating four forkfuls as Philip kept muttering the amount over and over again. It was so good to see Philip happy even if it was for him.
“What will you do with all that money?” Philip wondered.
“Definitely paying off my student loan like pronto and then I’ll take a bloody long holiday to some far off island where the women haven’t seen men before!”
Philip looked pensive.
“Oh sorry Phil – I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
Philip brushed it off. They continued eating, each one in his own daydream.
“Did you ever meet Sarah’s parents when they came over for our Canadian Wedding?”
“Yah I must have but I don’t remember what they look like…except they were black.” Gosh that sounded dumb too. Why was he uttering things that sounded so unintelligent?
“They’re very well connected in Ghana so you must make it a point to meet them. Auntie Maggie – Sarah’s mother – is one feisty woman. Talks a lot and seems really bossy but she does get things done and she’ll look after you. Her father’s a consummate gentleman and will try to wheedle you into discussing philosophical theories with you. And of course they have tons of maids and the driver – his name is Mensah and he has these darting eyes. I hear he’s just shy or something.”
“What is it really like in Ghana?” Jason wondered.
They laughed at the observation.
“Remember when Mom got so mad because we were late by five minutes to pick her up from the airport when she last came to visit? She would split a blood vessel in Ghana by your account.”
“Ah yes…Mrs. Arthur Beck at her most frustrated best. When was the last time you spoke to her?” Philip asked
“Just last week. She sounded tired but then again, being in your sixties tends to do that to you. She’s joined a chess club actually – can you imagine?”
“Not really. Mom doesn’t come across as a Chess-y sort of person. Maybe when dad was alive but I sort of figured she’d be sewing quilts or something by now. Of course she still writes for Readers Digest. Amazing how her jokes for “Laughter the Best Medicine’ are hilarious but she is so-not-funny in real life.”
Jason nodded in agreement.
“So exactly what will you be doing in Ghana?”
“Not sure exactly but since they seemed impressed by my engineering degree and all the experience with Stanrick and Australian Petroleum Company, I would hazard a guess that it’s in the engineering aspect of petroleum drilling. I’m supposed to liaise with the government and make sure that the needs of the locals are met while ensuring that the work goes according to schedule. No doubt my project management experience will be put to good use.”
Philip took a sip of his orange juice and smiled.
“I’m so proud of you bud…seriously, I am. It’s like you got out of school just yesterday and look how far you’ve come. Very soon you’re gonna have to start thinking of settling down you know?”
“Not for me Phil – we leave the responsible ones like you to do that part for us. Hey, are you and Sarah still trying for a baby?”
“Were. I’m not sure what will happen now with the diagnosis I just had. I can’t imagine she’d want me in bed with her so yeah…not sure what we’re going to do next. Life seriously sucks sometimes.”
They both pondered that thought until the waiter came to their table to clear it. He asked if they wanted to order something from the dessert menu but they both declined. Philip asked for the bill and while the waiter went back to get it, he got up, reached into his pocket and took out his wallet. As he removed three twenty-dollar bills, a stamp fell out. Jason caught it just in time.
“Hey, this your latest baby?”
Philip reached to grab it.
“Give it back!”
“Make me!”
And for a good minute or so, the two grown men were transported back to a childhood where they’d fight over stamps lying around the house, in the street, in the school office, at MacDonald’s, anywhere. Philip looked exhausted by the playful episode so Jason didn’t drag it.
“Seriously Phil, where did you get this?”
Phil held it up to the light, cluck clucking with joy the whole time like a mother hen. Then he passed it to Jason to take a look.
“I met this girl –
Jason chuckled.
“ – nothing sexual about it – I taught her in Grade 12. She’d immigrated from Kosovo not long after Slobodan Milosevic ran his armies into it from Serbia and along with her family’s possessions was a wooden box containing stamps her grandfather had been collecting. Well she did so well in the course and at parent teacher interviews, her mother asked what she could give me in thanks – you know how it is. I asked if I could just take a look at the grandfather’s stamps – I’d heard so much about them - and she said why of course – not a big deal. So one day after school, she brought them in. As you can imagine, I was a basket case just at the sight of them. Many dated back to the 1900’s and there were a few from the late 1800’s. She asked me to take one. I refused…ever so weakly, but she insisted and because I didn’t want her to think I knew which was valuable and which was not, I just closed my eyes and picked this one!”
“And have you had it valued?” Jason asked
“Of course not. I’m waiting a while and savoring that moment when I will find out. In the meantime, give it back to me!”
“See why I should have been a teacher? No one at a mining site tells me to pick a stamp from a collection. Life just sucks!”
Philip paid the waiter and the two men walked out towards Union station. It was almost rush hour and several Transit buses were lined up outside the terminal.
“So when do you leave for Ghana?”
“In two weeks. I’m flying the new Delta route from New York. Apparently less mind numbing than flying KLM through Amsterdam where I hear there’s a killer seven hour layover.”
“Lets have lunch again next week?”
“Yeah, sure. And it will be my treat. After all I’m the Onassis of the family now aren’t I?”
Philip laughed and slapped his brother on the back as they walked towards the bus terminal. They waited in line till the Oakville GO bus arrived. Jason waved to his brother as Philip slowly climbed onto the bus. He made sure he sat next to the window and made stupid faces at Jason until the bus pulled out of the terminal. Just like when they were children.
For what seemed like an hour after the bus left, Jason sat silently at the bus terminal while everything seemed to move like slow motion around him. This job was likely to get him out of debt far quicker than anything he could dream of – well, except the lottery - and yet, it would take him away from his one best friend. Oh sure, he had other friends but none shared his passion for stamps. And as if that wasn’t enough to warrant ‘BFF status for males’, they both liked many of the same things and laughed at the same things. Many a school holiday had been spent scheming to rid themselves of their sisters or to swindle their mother out of more pocket money. Each time, Jason had known that Philip had his back and vice versa. For the first time in a long time, Jason had absolutely no clue as to how to deal with this new problem…Philip’s condition. So while he was loath to go, when it came down to it, it was probably easier for him to go. What could he do by staying anyway?