Waking Anastasia

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Waking Anastasia Page 19

by Timothy Reynolds


  “You’ve got quite the strong women on your team, Manny, what with Mika and Lee-Anne blowing my expectations out the window.”

  “Our team, Jerr. Besides, in case you haven’t noticed with that whirling dervish of a wife of mine, I prefer my women strong, funny, and able to stand beside me, not lean on me. My daughter is the same way, though sometimes she’s more like her koala bear of an old man than the dervish of her mother.” He got the fire going in the hearth and sat down next to Jerry on the couch.

  “Now, a few things you’re not going to argue with me about.” He took a business card out of his wallet and handed it to Jerry, who read it, front and back. It belonged to a local cab company and had an eight-digit number hand-written on the back. “I have an account with these fellas. We use ’em for post-party rides and out-of-town clients, but now you’re gonna use ’em if you don’t feel up to driving to your appointments, or wherever. You said before that Ana doesn’t drive, and as much as I’d love to be there for you, I can’t always, so use the corporate account and no bloody arguing.”

  Jerry turned the card over and over in his hand, unsure how to respond. He had no desire to argue with his boss over such a generous offer. “Deal. You don’t have to do this, but as solid on my feet as I feel today, I’m smart enough to know that’s not always going to be the case. Thank you, Manny. I promise not to abuse it.”

  “To hell with that. Use it, abuse it, I don’t care. It’s deductible, so no playing ‘Captain Strong’ or ‘the hero’, or whoever.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Use it, Jerr, or I’ll sic Carmella on you.” They both glanced quickly toward the kitchen but laughed when they saw that the women were too caught up in their own conversation to hear the fireside chat. “You’ve got that appointment with the oncologist tomorrow right?”

  “Yeah. Ten o’clock. And then a scan on Monday at one. That’s the long one, I think.”

  “I assume Ana is going with you, but do you need anyone else? I can skip church tomorrow and take time off on Monday.”

  “Thanks, but you really can’t, Manny. Don’t skip church—I probably need a few prayers said for me, and as for Monday, we’re meeting with the accountant at twelve-thirty. It’s important, but you’ll have to handle that one without me, I’m afraid. Tax season is coming up and he wants to get us organized before the last minute. Mika has a good idea of what I wanted to bring up with him about some ideas to reduce the payable tax, so I suggest taking her along. I’ll have Ana with me, and I promise to take a cab there and back. As soon as I’m out of the meeting and have any news at all, I’ll send you a text to tell you to call when you can.”

  “Your word?”

  “Of course.”

  “Done.” He stuck his hand out and Jerry shook it.

  Carmella spotted them out of the corner of her eye. “Manuel James Werinick, you had better not be talking business with this young man.”

  “Not at all, Lovey. Strictly personal.”

  “Good, because it’s time we leave these two alone. Jerry needs to rest and Ana wants to get going in the kitchen.”

  “Carmella has given me a wonderful recipe that will fill you—us—up and give you strength, too. I had no idea that food was divided into groups and it was important to eat from each of them.”

  Jerry stood and looked from Manny to Carmella. “Thank you, both. I’m sorry I’ve been so sluggish. I’m pretty sure it’s more mental than physical, but knowing that you’re only a phone call away is going to make all of this so much easier to handle. You have your own lives to keep up with, too, though, so get the hell out of here and go do whatever it is you would be doing on a Saturday evening. Dine, dance, toss dwarves . . . whatever. I’m in the best hands with Ana, here, so git.”

  Plucking their jackets from the coat tree, Manny held Carmella’s out for her and she slipped into it. “That’s the Jerry I know. We’ve got all the confidence in the world that you’re going to beat this thing.”

  Jerry managed a weak laugh. “I appreciate your optimism, Manny. Over the next few weeks I may have to borrow some of it.”

  “As much as you need, boyo. As much as you need.”

  With final hugs, and cheek-kisses with the ladies, Manny and Carmella were out the door and gone. Gently, quietly, Jerry pushed the door shut and leaned on it until the latch clicked. Ana kissed him on the cheek and flitted into the kitchen where she started working on dinner like a chemist preparing a formula.

  JERRY PLACED THE signed consent form on the doctor’s desk and laid the pen gently on top. “‘Anaplastic Astrocytoma and the Brain Blood Barrier’. It sounds like the name of a Rob Zombie-Yoko Ono tribute band.” Jerry tried to laugh at his own joke, but Dr. Kelly simply smiled patiently. “Sorry, Doc. I imagine you get a lot of patients who try to crack wise right about now.” Jerry wanted to jump up and dance and joke and be the smartass he was in every other situation, but he couldn’t even bring himself to let go of Ana’s hand.

  “It’s a very common response to the situation, Jerry. That was quite an obscure reference, but I got it. Nicely done. I personally prefer jokes like yours to the anger some patients respond with. It doesn’t happen often, but when the reaction is uncontrolled rage, my concern shifts from the patient to their loved ones. Someone that angry with me for simply being the bearer of the news is usually someone who will take that anger home and act it out. We offer counselling for all reactions, even denial.” Dr. Kelly gestured at the computer screen the three of them faced. He had moved his chair to Jerry’s side of the desk and spun the monitor around.

  “As you can see by the blue lines and clumps, your tumour is extremely widespread.” A 3D digital representation of Jerry’s brain rotated slowly on the screen. “It’s working its way through most sections of your brain, although it’s largest near your brain stem. The technology that allows us to detect even the smaller gliomas may also allow us to treat it.”

  “You make it sound like there’s a hope in hell that this alien-looking tumour can be beaten.” Jerry waved in frustration at the screen.

  “The hope is thin, I admit. I’m waiting to hear from a firm in Calgary. I’ve sent them a copy of your images to get their opinion.”

  “And in the meantime, what? Surgery?”

  “No. It’s too late for that. If we removed the entire tumour there wouldn't be enough of your brain left for you to function, and we still wouldn’t know if we got it all. There are a few things we’ll start with, but most importantly, as we discussed on Friday, we’ll get you in on Monday—tomorrow—for a planning CT scan and then begin a course of radiation as soon as possible. The planning scan itself takes at least thirty minutes and it literally maps out your tumour for the radiotherapy. After the planning scan, it might be a week or two before we’re ready to actually start the radiation. The computer plans the course of your therapy and when it’s as complicated as yours, it can take a few weeks. This is unavoidable.”

  “Lovely.” Except he didn’t think it was. “I guess it will give me time to write a will and tie up loose ends. Doc?”

  “The truth, Jerry? Yes. This is an aggressive form of cancer. The prognosis is rarely positive. The survival rate is measured in decimals below zero. If you’re a stats person, I can get them for you. Many people need to hear the numbers to drive home the reality.”

  “Nah, I’m good, thanks. Let me summarize how I see it, and you tell me if I get anything wrong.” He took a deep breath and squeezed Ana’s hand. She remained silent but squeezed back. “I’m dying. Sooner rather than later. Since you can’t amputate my head, a crani-ectomy isn’t possible, so you’ll be trying to find something that is. You’ll be looking at everything anyone has ever tried with any degree of success, but this late on, the odds are so slim they’ve never really been measured. I’m game for anything you want to try, just so long as it doesn’t make me worse or kill me faster. I guess that without a real, God-given miracle, I need to say goodbye to people, forever.”

  “It sounds like you und
erstand perfectly. Any questions?”

  “With or without treatment, what can I expect in terms of possible symptoms rearing their ugly heads?”

  “This is your brain we’re talking about, so predictions are tough, but you can probably expect more of everything you’ve already experienced, including memory loss, pain, nausea, seizures, even personality changes both permanent and temporary. I have an information sheet for you with links to every resource I use. The Internet is a great source of information but a massive source of misinformation. I’ve vetted these resources myself and even contribute data and articles to two of them, so my recommendation is both personal and professional.” He slid a sheet of crisp paper out of Jerry’s file and placed it on the desk in front of Jerry. “Seizures are my biggest concern right now because you haven’t really had any. You’ve had some blackouts and that one minor episode at your work, but nothing in comparison to what I’ve seen in other patients. With the extent of your tumour’s growth it’s only a matter of time.”

  “So avoid long road trips as the driver.”

  “Avoid driving. Period. Let Ana drive you where you need to go.”

  “Unfortunately she hasn’t got a license.”

  “Not a problem. There’s a network of volunteers who will gladly drive you to and from your appointments. Even without the potential of seizures, sometimes the treatments can hit you pretty hard and you need assistance. The phone number for that is on the sheet. There’s also public transit and taxi. Some people don’t like bothering strangers with what they see as silliness, but please know that some of these volunteers are cancer survivors themselves, or people who’ve lost someone to the disease, and they just want to give back or help out. It is a great service run through the Canadian Cancer Society. I know you’re new to town, but cancer is part of your life now, and it levels the field and makes friends of complete strangers. There is support here. Make use of it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m not just saying that to make it easy on you. The more you make use of the resources we have available, the easier it is on your family and friends. Some of them might be willing to trade places with you in an instant, but they all wish they could wave a magic wand over your head and make the cancer go away forever. You get to fight this disease through willpower and anger and desire to not let it win, but your loved ones can do nothing but learn about the disease, try to keep your spirits up, and help you when you need them. That’s a lot of pressure for them. They’ll spend more time in tears than you will because they feel so helpless.”

  The oncologist leaned in, to emphasize the importance of his point. “You don’t have to look in a mirror if you don’t want to, Jerry, so you can form a thin barrier of self-denial mixed with hope. They can’t look away from what both the disease and the treatments will do to you. Some days, inside, you’ll feel just fine, but hair loss and weight loss and other changes will be right out where they see them and tear them up and make them feel like the weight of the world is on their shoulders. Terrific staff and volunteers will help, if you let them. Be strong, but don’t let pride get in the way.” He leaned back, again.

  “Now, speaking of staff to help you, your Palliative Care Specialist should be here in a couple minutes. She would have been here from the beginning but, well, last minute calls are part of her duties.”

  “Palliative Care?”

  “‘Palliative’ means ‘relieving without curing’. Elizabeth can explain more succinctly what she does, but in short, while my team and I are trying to cure you, Elizabeth and her staff will be concerned with a more holistic view of your situation. In addition to your physical well-being, she’ll offer professional advice, help you to understand options, offer a support system to help with the stress, and, should the disease win, help you to face it in comfort and dignity. Heck, she can even find you a lawyer to help you settle your affairs.

  “You may be shocked to hear me admit that you might well lose this fight, Jerry, but you’ve seen for yourself how widespread it is. I plan on winning this fight with you because that’s the only approach I know. I will give it everything I’ve got, because, frankly, I’ve seen miracles happen. I’ve seen a dying woman given six months to live only to get pregnant and have the cancer lose the battle as her baby grew inside her and their combined systems fought back. I’ve seen congregations pray and priests give last rights only to have a patient sit up and ask for a beer and a steak.”

  “That sounds like a great idea, right about now.”

  The doctor laughed. “Then as soon as Ms. Puleo is done with you, go have a steak and a beer. You’re in for the fight of your life, literally, so you’d best start it with a full belly. In the meantime, though, I’ll go confirm that Elizabeth is on her way. Would either of you like something to drink? Water, tea, coffee? We have one of those one-cup machines so my assistant has built up quite a selection. Chocolate-raspberry medium roast? Caramel decaf? I’m going to make myself a green and white tea.”

  Ana looked at Jerry and raised an eyebrow. “Anything, my Sweet?”

  He thought about it for a second and caved to temptation. “One of those chocolate-raspberry ones sounds great. Black. Please.”

  “You got it. Ana?”

  “Thank you, no, doctor.”

  “Back in a minute or two, then.”

  ELIZABETH PULEO—THE Palliative Care Specialist—pretty much reiterated everything Dr. Kelly told them, so Jerry was ready for a ten-hour nap by the time the cab dropped them off at the loft. Ana helped him up the stairs, and once he was settled on the couch she made him a banana smoothie, like Carmella had taught her.

  Jerry stretched and yawned. “Who knew a one hour meeting could be so draining. I feel like I’ve been run over by a train.”

  “You had best text Manny before you fall asleep.” She ran the blender briefly. “Why not suggest he telephone after six o’clock this evening. That will give you time to have a nap.”

  “Good thinking. You must need to recharge, too. You’ve been up as long as I have.”

  “Do not fret about me, Mr. Powell. I am quite capable of looking after myself. As Miss Puleo said, I am your caregiver.”

  “She also said you weren’t to wear yourself out.”

  “I will rest. I promise.” She brought a tumbler of smoothie over to him. “Now drink this and I will go turn down your bed.”

  “Yes, boss lady,” he said to her back as she stepped behind the screen. He drank the smoothie down.

  “Exactly. Miss Puleo is a very wise lady and she put me in charge. You shall do exactly what I say or—”

  “Or what, Shvibzik? You’ll report me?”

  “Not at all, sir.” She peeked around the screen. “I will spank you.”

  “Then I’ll have to report you, for physical abuse of someone under your care. I could sue you for damages. Bring you up on charges.” His wink belied his words.

  “You may try, sir, but the only thing I have of value is my love for you, and you already have all of it.” She came to him on the couch, took the now-empty tumbler and placed it on the coffee table, then helped him up with the other. He started to protest but she silenced him with a quick kiss on the lips. In silence, Ana led Jerry to the bed. Slowly, gently, she lifted his sweatshirt up over his head and placed it on the chair. Then she undid the buttons of his flannel shirt, exposing his Property of Barenaked Ladies t-shirt. She suppressed a giggle when she read the words on the shirt, then gave him another quick kiss, handed him his pyjamas, and turned her back out of politeness.

  “While you change, I will tidy up and send that text to Manny for you, if that is acceptable, my Sweet.”

  Jerry brushed her long braid aside and kissed the nape of her neck, his lips lingering, tickling. “That’d be perfect. Thank you, Shvibzik of my heart.” She wiggled under the touch of his lips and then skipped away, to find the phone, he assumed. Exhausted, he finished changing and crawled into the big bed.

  As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered how
the hell he was going to have the strength to fight a battle he was probably going to lose in the end; and then he felt the sheets lift and fully-clothed Ana slipped into the bed behind him. He fell asleep with her arms around him and a silly, lopsided grin on his face.

  “MANNY, I MIGHT as well come in for an hour or so tomorrow. I can double-check Mika’s prep notes for the meeting with the accountant.”

  “Jerry, lad, you’re both needed and not needed. I need you or I wouldn’t have hired you, but I don’t need you so badly that I’m going to put the station before your health.”

  “My CT planning scan thing isn’t until just after one. We can make sure you’re ready for the meeting, and then maybe I’ll take Lee-Anne out for lunch.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “If I have to sit at home and do nothing, I’ll drive Ana crazy. Worse still, if I have to sit on my ass and stress over everything, I’ll snap.”

  “Right, then. Nine o’clock, for two hours, max.”

  “Two hours. Then lunch with Lee-Anne.”

  “I’ll have to confirm that with her, make sure she’s not over on the mainland tomorrow. To make it easy, though, assume the lunch is a go unless I send you a text otherwise.”

  “Done. See you then.”

  “Only because you insist, mate—and because your smiling face seems to have a positive effect around here. Make sure you take a cab, too.”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “Smartass brat. I’d ground you, but you’d ignore me anyway. See you tomorrow.”

  “Will do.”

  Ana took the iPhone out of Jerry’s hand almost as soon as he ended the conversation, and plugged it into the charger. “Now, if you please, send an email to your friend Isis. Maybe you will have time to use the Spike-thing to speak with her.”

  “Skype. S-K-Y-P-E.” He smiled. She was right about needing to call Isis, and Skype was the only way to do it. Casual conversations were once okay for TDD telephone for the Hearing Impaired, but with the advancements of Skype and FaceTime and camera phones, there was little need for a touch-typing translator to be an intermediary in a long distance conversation with the deaf. Even when they lived twenty-feet apart, Isis Skyped Jerry whenever she couldn’t drop by in person.

 

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