“I just had my second session and something is happening, I swear. My liver aches so much less. I can’t even feel it right now. It scans me and tells me the size of my tumors, they’ve reduced so much.”
“Oh, Kath. You can’t let yourself believe this. It’s a fairy tale, a joke this woman is playing on you.” Jimmy knelt in front of me and took my hands. “When you get your next scan and you find out nothing has changed, you’ll be devastated. Do you remember when they cancelled your surgery last year? Do you remember how bad you got?”
How could I forget. The liver consultant was going to operate on my liver and then I’d be free of stupid cancer. But they’d grown and multiplied between scans. I went into hospital that morning for the operation, changed into a hospital gown, hair in a special net, all my jewelry off, my feet in those throwaway shoe covers, and those tight stockings on my legs. The doctor was late, and when he showed up told me I’d gone from operable to inoperable, then left me on my own as I began to sob. The weeks afterwards were among the darkest I’ve ever lived through.
I nodded at Jimmy. “But I feel it working.”
“Kath…”
“No, Jimmy. You told me to do whatever was necessary. This machine feels necessary. Even if it doesn’t fix me, at least I’ll have had a few weeks of the dream, because if this doesn’t work then the alternative is simply to wait until the end.” I felt a tear slip down my cheek. “All of this freaking sucks. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I’ve tried your ideas, eating low carb until my breath stinks, then the juicing detox that lasted weeks. Total avoidance of sugars and processed meats. All those vitamins that each suggest they might help my odds. I’ve HATED it. I just wanted to be normal. But I did it all for you because you hoped it would fix me or help or something. Well this time I want to do something that I think might help. And what the hell do I have to lose?”
“Nothing,” Jimmy said. He pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. We sat that way for a long time, our sobs the only sound.
10
Cake and Hope
The next few days passed in a blur. Jimmy apologized so many times I had to tell him I’d hit him if he said sorry one more time. He talked about how I should have been able to tell him about the pod from the beginning, about how he’d forced all those quack and not so quack remedies on me without any thought of what I wanted. I could only take so much. Of course I wanted the same as him. I’d take the potential cures, whether I thought they were foolish or not. I wanted to live. And not this hazy chemo existence. A normal life with normal struggles, a chance to go grey and wrinkly, time given so I could see any grandchildren Cass might produce.
We’d seen her, she’d come over Monday night with that tattooed boyfriend of hers and all I could think was how obvious it was that Cass and Jack loved each other, how tenderly he took care of her. Then the darkness descended as I wondered if they’d ever get married and would it be before I died.
I sighed, a long sigh that seemed to go on forever and wished the sadness in me would hitch a ride and go away forever.
Summer had finally come and I was outside in the hammock. The docs said I wasn’t supposed to get too much sun when on chemo. The meds make your skin hypersensitive or something. I long ago stopped listening. How many things can you have taken from you before you rebel? Apparently sunbathing was my tipping point. So here I was, in the hammock in a little t-shirt and my leggings pulled up to expose my legs.
My book had dropped to the grass. I had too much on my mind to concentrate on the story. Sal had called. She needed me to go around. I was avoiding just a little bit longer. I needed to be alone, to try and find peace in the rays of sun. I was due my third session in the machine tomorrow. Jimmy wanted to come with me to see what happened from start to finish. I felt vaguely crowded by his request and didn’t know why.
Maybe because it was all bollocks. I was in one of those moods. Expect nothing, hope for nothing and then you can’t be disappointed when it all goes wrong. I didn’t want Jimmy there because I didn’t want him finding out the pod was all a clever trick and informing me afterwards about how it really was fake and that I was as poorly as ever.
Bollocks. Why couldn’t normal be the path laid out for me? Or if cancer had to be part of my life plan then make it be found early on. Not when it’s sent out seeds and the docs don’t stand a chance.
Bollocks. I wasn’t going to miraculously start to relax. Time for the depressed to help the clinically depressed. That should be fun. Sal and I could score points off each other, see who had the bigger tale of woe. Drink tea and eat the cakes that I wasn’t supposed to, reminding each other that Jimmy couldn’t know. Passing time as tomorrow was taking forever to come.
Janie had messaged me on Facebook this morning. Asked if I was beginning to notice a difference. I hadn’t replied yet, but the fact was when Cass had shown up last night, first thing she did was tell me how well I looked. She’d been so taken by my change in appearance that she’d put on the hall light and turned me this way and that. Told me that my eyes didn’t have that sick, slightly yellow look about them. How the spots the chemo caused had almost gone, and that if she didn’t know better, she’d never have guessed I had cancer.
Bollocks. Who was I kidding. Someone with a sick sense of humor had got that pod off eBay. It was probably a Star Trek prop and they’d set up a tape to play and a motor to close and open the lid. I should look for the hidden cameras in the church. Give them the finger and bash up their ‘machine’.
And yet, despite everything common sense told me, I couldn’t wait to go back for my next session.
Enough stupid thinking. It got me nowhere but more depressed. I rolled off the hammock and made my way to Sal’s house.
“Have it. Have the cake.”
Sally had been busy. In an effort to try and pull herself out of the pits (as she called it) she’d started baking. She cut a large slice of chocolate cake and handed it to me.
“Jimmy won’t have a clue. It’ll be our secret.”
The cake was three layers with chocolate frosting and what looked like Minstrels decorating the top. How could I say to no to such an effort?
“The garden’s still a mess, but I’m sure that won’t bother you.”
I grabbed my cup of tea and shook my head. “Better for the bees, right?”
“I wish the landlord felt that way.”
Sal had a long garden, most of it overgrown. Flowers from a couple of enormous, scraggly bushes gave a secret garden feeling. Like somehow back here we were hidden not only from the neighbors, but the world in general and all those bad things that were always trying to get at us.
“Use this, Kath.” Sal tossed a damp tea towel at me and I wiped the patio chairs down, chasing away spiders and getting most of the bird splots off.
We settled down, neither of us speaking for a moment while we ate the cake.
“My sister found out I’ve been down again.” Sal didn’t look at me, but stared down the garden. For a moment I thought she’d forgotten I was there and that she was talking to herself. “That’s what finally made me pull myself together. You threaten to section me. She actually would.”
I listened, unsure what to say.
“Sorry about calling you a bitch. You’re my best friend. You know that, right?” Sally turned to me, a bright smile on her face. I knew it to be paint, a fake, a Mona Lisa smile. She was still down there, fighting the shadow monsters, but at least she was fighting. Last week she was letting them feed on her, and this was what I called progress.
“No worries. That’s what I’m here for. You know that.”
We supped our tea and watched the birds dip in and out of the garden chasing insects.
“You’re different somehow, but I can’t quite put my finger on how.”
My heart did a little skip.
“It’s almost as if you’re not sick. That would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?” Sally finished her tea and the conversation in the same moment. “You�
��ve got chocolate down your front. You’ll never get that past Jimmy without him guessing you’ve eaten something you shouldn’t.”
“Shit.” I looked down to find a blob of frosting on my white top. Sugar was the big thing Jimmy preached against. Sugar fed cancer. Break down all my favorite foods and you got glucose. For nearly two years I’d been sneaking treats behind Jimmy’s back. I was getting tired of it to be honest. Yet despite this, I still went inside to attack the stain with cleaner.
Looking around the house, I could see how bad things had got with Sal. She didn’t need threats of being put away in the madhouse, she needed someone to roll up their sleeves and lend a hand. After a moment of indecision I decided to start with the bathroom. Sal was out in the garden still. She’d probably not even notice I’d gone and not come back. She’d be off in her own world again, chatting quietly to the garden as if I was still there.
As I scrubbed the floor I allowed the fantasy of the cure to play out. Three people had now noticed a difference in me. If everything went according to the plan of the machine, with three days between treatments, I could expect to be cured in four days. My heart skipped a beat. Four days? Such a short amount of time, I hadn’t thought about it like that before. Four days to be fixed, to be normal again. I allowed a silly grin to spread across my face. Cured. Remission. Words that might soon apply to me. I moved on to cleaning the toilet, whistling as I worked.
11
Third Session
I woke up Wednesday morning to find Jimmy out of bed, showered and in his study answering emails. Moments after he realized I was awake, he came in. He looked anxious, nervous as he sat on the side of the bed and fiddled with a pen.
“Today’s the day.”
“Third session. It’s so quick,” I said. “You sure you want to come?”
He nodded. “Try and stop me.”
“I’m not sure what you’ll hear on the outside. The computer speaks quietly.”
“Do you really think it’s working?” Jimmy took my hand. “Don’t you think we should prepare in case this is all a hoax?”
“You do what you want. I’ll deal with the reality after the next MRI scan.”
Jimmy looked like he was going to say more, but got to his feet instead. “I’ll get you some tea,” he said as he left the room.
I got ready slowly. Part of me never wanted to go back to that church. My insides felt all mixed up. I wanted to be cured, who wouldn’t? But the truth was I was setting myself up for a big dose of the painful truth and didn’t seem to be able to stop myself from travelling the path. It sucked.
I moved around the house like a ghost until finally I stood by the front door, that big old key in one hand and Jimmy at my side. I placed my other hand lightly on his arm. I didn’t say anything, just stared up at him. I didn’t need to say anything. We were both fighting the same emotions.
“Come on, let’s go.” Jimmy moved past me and out to the car. I wondered how we’d cope, after the scan and the inevitable let down. And yet I climbed in next to him and off we drove.
We entered the church, and there it was; the machine as shiny and at odds with the surroundings as ever. Jimmy ran his fingers over the metal hull while I struggled with the lock. No way was I making that mistake twice. I rattled the handle to make sure we were indeed locked in before making my way over to Jimmy.
I touched the hidden panel and the lid opened.
“Have a feel of the mattress. It’s really odd.”
Jimmy touched the material tentatively, pulling back suddenly as the foam tried to grab on. “What the hell…?”
I laughed. “Weird, huh?”
“It grows?”
“Is it getting harder to believe this thing is fake?” I asked as I sat on a pew and took off my shoes.
“Yes…” He prodded the mattress, a faint smile on his lips as the foam reacted.
I climbed in and lay down. “Now don’t be going anywhere, you hear?”
He let out a short laugh, watching me closely, watching the machine, watching the foam mattress as it snugged up around my body, his eyes trying to be everywhere at once.
“See you on the other side,” I said as I reached up and placed my palm on the panel. The lid began to move, slowly and smoothly closing me in, Jimmy’s eyes on mine until the lid clicked shut.
I shifted a little, getting comfortable, the foam adjusting along with me.
The machine started to speak, “Patient recognized. Scan initiating.”
Apparently my heartbeat and blood pressure weren’t raised this time. I had to admit I didn’t feel as anxious or scared in the pod today. Last time I was in the MRI at Clatterbridge Hospital the nurses had to tell me not to be so relaxed as I was breathing too slowly. Maybe I was getting the same way with this machine. The lid would lift up and Jimmy would find me fast asleep.
“Diagnosing.”
A moment of truth, if the machine was to be believed.
“Seven tumors found in the liver ranging from 3mm to 25mm. One tumor found in the left lung measuring 3mm, right lung now clear.”
I couldn’t help but let the excitement grow in me. Right lung clear. Did she really say my right lung was clear? I almost shouted out to Jimmy to ask if he’d heard the machine speaking, but then she started again.
“Session three of the four recommended.”
Time would show Jimmy and me if these sessions were real or a painfully disappointing waste of time.
“Shall I begin the session?” the machine asked.
“Yes,” I said and waited for the thing to get going.
As the vibrations moved along my body, I wondered what Jimmy could hear. Did he have a hand on the hull, did he feel the machine working, doing whatever it was that it did? My torso went quite warm as the vibrations concentrated on that area. Maybe it used some sort of futuristic nanotechnology, or magnets, or some method I’d never heard of and hadn’t even been invented yet. I really did lean towards the theory that the pod was from the future.
The machine stopped. “Session complete. Next session in three days’ time.”
The lid opened and Jimmy was waiting right there, and he looked far too excited.
“I heard it, I heard what it said!” He held out a hand and helped me out of the machine. Before I even had a chance to get my balance he had wrapped me up in a bear hug.
“You heard?”
“Every word. There’s a speaker on the outside. Everything you heard, I heard.”
I smiled shyly. “Do you think I should believe then? Get my hopes up?”
“Makes me want to pay for a private CT scan and see what they make of your insides.” He kissed me hard on the lips. “Your right lung is clear? That’s amazing.”
“Don’t count your chickens. Remember you were telling me to calm down about this not so long ago.”
My phone beeped and I peeled myself out of Jimmy’s arms. I sat on the pew and read the message – Janie.
Is today your next session? I hope you’re feeling some relief from the pain by now and are starting to believe. It’s a miracle, isn’t it?
“It’s Janie again. I should have replied to her the other day.” At that moment I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I felt an ache in my liver. One day? Or maybe it was two. Could a placebo take away my pain? I seriously doubted that when some days the morphine the docs prescribed didn’t even touch the pain.
Jimmy wasn’t listening. He was circling the machine, examining it.
Yes, I just finished my third session. My pains seem to have gone.
Unsure of what else to say, I sent the message. A reply came quickly.
I’m so pleased for you. Next session on Saturday?
A small part of me wanted to lie, to hide my schedule from her. Despite her sharing this machine with me, she really was still a stranger.
Yes.
“I found it.” Jimmy was on the far side of the pod, out of sight. I put my phone down and went over to him.
“Found
what?”
“The engine compartment.”
He’d managed to find an opening where I hadn’t seen one and opened it. A two meter by half a meter panel had slid down into the bottom of the pod. What was visible looked like the engine of a new car. The machinery was packed in tight, with hardly enough room to squeeze a hand or tool.
“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Jimmy reached out to touch the parts.
“No, don’t do a thing!” I knocked his arm out of the way. “What if you do something and you break it?”
“I’m not a complete idiot, you know.” His sulking face was on now, and for a moment I thought he was going to ignore me and have a poke around inside anyway. Then he pulled gently on the panel and it slid back into place. The seal was near invisible.
“Beautiful, isn’t it.” Jimmy stroked the hull.
“Come on, time to go.” I was afraid Jimmy couldn’t resist having a tinker. He loved figuring out how things worked and now that he knew a way in to the engine, I wanted to keep him away.
I slipped my shoes back on and grabbed my bag. “Let’s go.” I took his hand and pulled him away. His eyes followed too closely when I hid the key in my bag. Before he’d even started the car I knew I’d have to find a new hiding place.
“With a bit of time, I’m sure I could figure out how that thing works.” He muttered the words, as if half to me, and half to himself.
A chill came over me. Yes, I definitely had to hide the key.
12
Chemo Day
Thursday was a chemo day. I woke up apprehensive, a part of me trying to convince the rest of me that I didn’t need to go. But there was no chance of giving up traditional treatment. That would be just stupid. For a brief moment I thought about ringing up the hospital and saying I’d had a really hard time with the side effects and needed a week off. This was the last session before the next break between courses of chemotherapy. That meant in less than two weeks I’d get a CT scan or an MRI, depending on what the doctor wanted. Then I would find out the truth, find out if Janie was right or if I was a fool.
That Elusive Cure Page 5