Six
Facing surgery was never going to be an easy thing, but facing surgery where they were going to cut open his skull and poke around his brain was probably the most frightening thing Ben could imagine in his present life.
He was feeling a little more perplexed, however, when he met with his doctor at the hospital early in the morning the day of surgery. Dr. Burke strolled into his room holding his laptop, his face drawn into a frown.
Without a word, the doctor opened up the computer and clicked a few buttons. Two images appeared on the screen, and he turned it toward Ben. With a frown, he managed to make out what looked like a skull, and a bunch of red and blue and yellow lines and smudges all over the screen.
“Do you see this?” the doctor asked.
“Uh yeah, though I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking at,” Ben replied.
Dr. Burke scratched his chin and stared at the screen for a long moment. “This, Benjamin, is the MRI scan we did of your head a week ago. And this,” he said, touching the second image, “is the scan we took two days ago. You see this?” he asked, putting his finger on a very large smudge on the first image.
“Yeah,” Ben said.
“This is the mass we found, the mass that was causing all of your strange symptoms. If you look at the second image, you’ll see the mass has gone. Not just reduced, but disappeared.”
Ben squinted and saw what the doctor was talking about. “What the hell? What does that mean? How is it gone?”
“Tumors don't just disappear overnight,” the doctor said. “We’re going to do our best to find out what’s going on, but as of right now, I have no answers.”
Ben rubbed his face with the hand that didn’t have an IV needle sticking out of it. “I’m freaking out.”
“There’s no need to panic,” the doctor said, “but I’ll confess, I’m as confused as you are. Maybe more so. I’ve gone over the scans with the neurologist who came in to help me with the surgery and even he has only a few weak theories. Either way, we’re going to get to the bottom of this.”
“And if you don’t?” Ben asked, trying not to sound frightened.
“Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it, shall we? I’ll let the nurse know we can start getting ready to prep your OR, and you should be ready to wheel back in about an hour. The neurologist should be in some time to introduce himself, and then we can get going.” The doctor gave him a short nod and left the room.
Ben looked over computer screen where the two MRI scan images stood; the original, with the large mass weaving in and out of brain tissue, and the second which showed nothing. Something was wrong, because tumors didn't just disappear. Brain cancer didn't just go away on its own, not like that.
His hands were trembling and the skin under the tape holding the IV in place was starting to itch unbearably. He scratched around the sticky edge until the skin on his hand turned bright red. With a sigh, Ben dropped his hands into his lap and squeezed them together.
“Okay,” he whispered to himself. “Okay. It’s only exploratory surgery, and I can do this.”
“You're a dead man,” came a harsh, angry voice from the doorway.
Ben's eyes snapped up and onto the face of his little sister, her brown eyes narrow and angry, her hands on her hips, her hair pulled back making her look even more fierce with her scowl. Ben sighed and laid his head back against his pillow.
“Abby, how the hell did you find out I was here?”
“The hospital called me, you idiot,” she snapped at him, her shoes making a faint tapping sound as she marched up to his bed. “They said they attempted to call your emergency contact, but the number was disconnected and being your next of kin, they called me.”
Ben rubbed his face roughly and struggled to sit up more. “Well, that's fantastic, isn't it? Did you tell anyone else?”
“I left a message with our mother, who hasn't returned my call, not that I expected her to,” Abby said. “What the hell are you doing, going in for surgery and not even telling me? Honest to God, Ben, this is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Why! Why wouldn't you tell me!” Her voice rose with a hysterical edge by the end of her questions.
“Because it's not exactly easy to tell someone you have cancer in your brain!” Ben snapped before he could stop himself.
Shocked, Abby clapped a hand to her mouth and took a step backwards. “What?” she asked, her voice muffled by her fingers.
Ben cleared his throat, glanced over at the MRI scan images again and then said, “It's... there's... I might have a brain tumor,” he managed.
Abby reached out blindly for the chair that was behind her. She pulled it up, wincing at the fierce squeaking it made being dragged along the floor, and when she reached his bedside, she plopped down. “Do they um... have any idea what kind? What the prognosis is? Ben... God... I'm scared.”
Ben reached for her hand and gave it a little squeeze. “The doctor was pretty sure it was bad,” Ben told her, deciding that she might as well know everything now. “The tumor had sort of wedged itself deep into the brain, and operating on it was going to be really difficult. Today was an exploratory surgery to see what parts of my brain could be damaged should they remove the tumor.”
“Oh...” Abby said, sounding quite far off. “I um...”
“Except, the other day I started feeling different. My vision changed and the headaches and seizures stopped.” He continued to speak, ignoring her obvious discomfort.
“Seizures? You were having seizures?” Abby asked, then put her hands up in surrender. “Sorry, not the point.”
Ben glared at her but continued. “I called the doctor and he thought the tumor might have gotten bigger, so he brought me in for another MRI scan which ended up revealing this,” he said, and pointed to the second scan which was absolutely clear of any sort of abnormal masses.
Abby squinted at the scans. “Wait, what?”
“Well, that was my reaction,” he replied. “The tumor is clear as day on the first one, but the second one revealed nothing.”
“Oh my,” she breathed. “So it's gone?”
“Tumors don't just disappear, Abbs,” Ben said patiently. “Something happened, but we just don't know what. The doctor is going in today for exploratory surgery to see what he can find. It's possible, but very improbable that the MRI scan was a mistake, or for some reason unable to pick up on the mass any longer. Either way, the surgery will let us all know.”
“What if it's gone, Ben?” she asked. “What if by some sort of miracle—”
He squeezed her hand, cutting his sister off. “Abigail, you know I don't believe in God, or any of that Catholic miracle crap, okay? I love you, but I can't take listening to this right now, not when I'm trying to find out how much time I have left to live.”
Abby pressed her lips together, trying to bear the weight of the idea that her brother might actually be dying, and she let out a shaking breath. “Okay. Okay, I'm sorry.”
He let her hand go and he tried to smile, changing the subject. “So how's it going over at Sacred Heart? Better than public school?”
“Oh yes,” she breathed. “The students are much better behaved and the lesson plans are stricter, and no more angry parent phone calls about why I'm failing their son or daughter. The staff is great, too,” she said, and her eyes went a little misty.
“You've met someone,” Ben pointed out.
Her cheeks pinked. “I... how did you know? How can you always tell?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Because I raised you, remember? Who is he? Not a priest, I hope?”
Abby rolled her eyes. “No, not a priest. I mean, sort of not a priest. He doesn’t hold mass or anything, he just teaches. I don’t know if he’s taken his vows or anything. I mean, don't know a lot about him, to be honest. He's been at Sacred Heart for about six months, came in from a Russian monastery. He lives on the school grounds, teaches the literary arts classes. And um, well, he's blind.”
“Blind? L
ike he can't see blind? Like white cane and a dog and Braille?” Ben asked.
“He hasn't got a dog, but yeah, pretty much everything else,” she said with a shrug. “I think he's always been blind, I don't really know. He's some sort of theological genius, though. He knows so much about the history of the church, it's like he's spent his whole life studying it or something. He's really quiet, but there's something about him I really want to get to know.”
“I have a feeling this isn't going to end well for you,” Ben warned.
“You always say that,” she muttered and smacked his hand. “Why can't you just let me be happy?”
“I want you to be happy,” Ben muttered. “I indulge you on your weird superstitions, and your religious fervor, and obsession with bleeding statues and whatnot. I took you to Rio when you were twelve to see the weeping statue, and to France to see the body of that weird saint who never decayed.”
“I know,” Abby said, and suddenly sounded choked up at the idea that her brother might not be around for anything else. She cleared her throat, but when she spoke, her voice was hoarse and thick. “So how long is this surgery thing going to take?”
Ben looked at her for a long time before he answered. “A few hours. They're just taking a look today. Any removal surgery will be done after all the tests.”
“Right yeah,” she said, and then unable to help herself, she burst into tears.
Ben shifted to pull her over to him, embracing her tightly and kissing the top of her head. His baby sister meant the world to him. He had practically raised her while their mother worked three jobs, dealt with their deadbeat, absent father, and eventually drowned herself in alcohol. This was exactly the reason he hadn't wanted to tell Abby, but he understood her anger and frustration with his decision to keep her out of the loop.
“It's going to be okay, I promise,” he said quietly.
Abby pulled back, wiping her face angrily. “You don't know that, Benjamin! You don't actually know if it's going to be okay! You could die today on that table. They could burst something, and you could just… die. They could find this tumor inoperable and I might have to watch you slowly waste away.”
Ben bit his lip, but said nothing. Abby was right, and she had always been blunt and frank with everyone around her, including him. All he could do was stare at her, helpless to make her feel better or ease her fears, because he, himself, was terrified and helpless. The MRI with the absent tumor was nothing but a confusing image threatening to give him false hope that this was all going to just blow over.
When the Anesthesiologist came in, Abby kissed his cheek and then waited by the door as they pumped a sedative into his IV. “You're not going to be unconscious for this surgery, okay?” the Anesthesiologist said as he adjusted Ben's bed down backwards. “You probably won't remember anything about it, but we're going to be asking you questions and testing your motor functions as we operate. It's a fairly routine, simple procedure, though it's a long one, but soon enough we'll have some answers for you.”
He nodded as the cool liquid flowed into his arm, and his head immediately went fuzzy, like was floating. The neurologist came into the room then, a smile wide across his face, and the only thing Ben really noticed was that he smelled heavily of cigar smoke. But there was something about him, something glowing deep in his eyes which gave Ben the shivers. His presence was soothing, and he said his name, but Ben was already floating away.
“…not going to let you die, Benjy, not you of all people.”
Ben let out a small giggle at the nickname and watched as Abby was ushered out of the room. The Anesthesiologist administered another drug into his IV. The drug hit him almost instantly, making his thoughts grow more erratic and vision start to weave in and out. The last thing he remembered as he was being wheeled out of the room and the neurologist grinning down at him saying, “Let’s get skull-crackin’!”
Seven
There was a small cafe just down the street from the hospital, and Abby made her way that direction. It was foggy in the city, and beyond the fog, the heavy smell of approaching rain. It was fitting that the dreary weather seeming to mimic her mood. She thought a sunny day would only be a mockery to the situation so she was thankful everything was bleak and grey.
She made it to the cafe without even realizing how quickly she was walking, and she stepped inside. It wasn't crowded, but by no means empty, and every time she saw people smiling, conversing, like nothing in the world was wrong, she wanted to scream.
Ben was a great guy, the best kind of guy. He was the only person who'd ever really been there for her, and the idea he could be taken away from her was probably the most terrifying thing in the world. Most people didn't have relationships with their siblings the way Abby did with Ben. It wasn't just the shared blood, but the fact that he was willing to be there for her no matter what, and that was something special.
Abby approached the counter, ordered a cafe au lait and when it was ready, she took it outside to a solitary table. It started to rain lightly, but she was able to take refuge under a large umbrella on the corner of the patio, and with her hot coffee, she snuggled deep into her sweater and tried to relax.
She felt so alone right then, absolutely terrified and without even really thinking, she picked up her phone, and dialed Mark. She regretted it almost instantly, afraid that the phone call would be unwelcome by the reclusive teacher, but she didn’t have anyone else to talk to.
“Hello?” came the rich voice after a few rings.
“Mark hi, it's Abby. I'm not interrupting you, am I?”
“No, I was just listening to the radio,” Mark said. “Is something wrong? Your voice sounds like you’ve been crying.”
She tried to keep herself composed, but it was hard. Tears were falling down her cheeks, but she wasn't falling apart yet. “I um, I'm not doing so well at the moment, and I wasn't really sure who to call. Normally I'd call my brother, but he's kind of in the hospital having brain surgery right now.”
“Oh,” Mark said, sounding surprised. “By the sound of your voice I’d say you just found out about this?”
“I didn't know he was sick until the hospital called me. Possible cancer, I guess. They're doing surgery to find out what's going on right now. They said it could be a couple hours, and I'm terrified, frankly. I don't know what to do with myself.” Her voice was trembling and she did her best to reign it in.
“Look, let me take you to lunch,” Mark said after a moment of silence. “You sound like you need a friend and it’s the least I can do.”
Abby smiled, despite her tears. “No, it's okay. I don't want you to trouble yourself. I just felt like I had to say it aloud to someone, you know? Because it was sort of festering in my head and I felt like if I didn't tell someone, I was going to break down.”
“I'll come to you then. Give me the address where you are and I'll hire a cab, okay?” Mark insisted.
While she didn't want him to trouble himself, she needed someone and the idea of having him nearby was welcome. She hesitated for a moment, because it was almost solely a selfish pleasure, but the hesitation only lasted a few seconds. “I'm at the cafe on the corner of California Street and Hyde.” She gave him the exact address after grabbing it off the menu, and then Mark hung up.
Abby continued to sit there, not touching her coffee, picking at the light purple nail polish on her thumb that had started to chip. She stared blankly at her phone, waiting for that call from the hospital telling her they'd lost him. Something had gone wrong, they weren't able to stop the bleeding and his heart gave out.
Shaking her head, she rested her arms on the table and dropped her forehead down atop them. Her day hadn't started out too bad, but then the phone call. Even when she stepped into the hospital room with Ben, she had half expected him to tell her it was no big deal and everything was going to be fine. She was used to those calls with Ben. He’d been shot more than once, and injured at least once a year out in the field. Those calls she could handle. B
ut this…
It took Mark thirty minutes to arrive, but Abby spotted him in the back of the cab the moment it pulled up. She was on her feet instantly, and jumped the shin-high iron fence to greet him at the curb. He got out of the cab after paying the driver, his white cane at his side, and he smiled in her direction as she said hello.
“You really didn't have to come all this way,” she insisted, but she was truthfully happy to have the company. He took her arm as they went inside, his hand so warm she could feel the heat spread up her arm, even through her layers.
She offered him coffee, which he declined, and they went back to her spot outside where she'd been sitting. “It's raining,” she said as they settled into chairs. “We can go in if you like.”
“I'm fond of this weather,” Mark said, turning his face up to the dripping sky. “In Siberia it snows all year long, impossible months of ice and wind. This is wet and warm and different.” He turned his face to her, his milky-white eyes fixing on her face. Though she knew he couldn't see her, it felt like he could.
“Have you ever had a close family member die?” she asked him.
Mark's face, which wasn't always very expressive, fell just a little, and he gave a solemn nod. “Unfortunately, I have had many close people to me pass,” he said. “It never gets easier. But your brother isn’t dead, right?”
“Um no, I mean, they don't even really know what's going on,” Abby said. “I guess a few weeks ago they found a mass in his brain, but when he went in for another scan, the mass was gone. The doctors say it's impossible, so they're going in to check it out.” She gave a harsh laugh and shook her head. “I went on for a minute about it being a miracle from God, but he got so angry. He's an Atheist, doesn't believe in the whole God thing, or Jesus.”
Mark smiled softly. “I've known quite a few people like that.”
“Does it offend you? I mean, you’re a priest, right? Been living in churches your entire life?”
The Awakening (The Judas Curse Book 1) Page 4