“Fixes what?”
“Um,” I glanced at Jimmy. “Everything. I think. To be honest we’re not sure how many things it cures.”
Bob was almost jiggling in his seat. “Wow. Just, wow.” He grinned at both of us. “Thank you for trusting me. This is bigger than big.” He made some notes on the pad, scribbling away manically for a couple of minutes.
Jimmy got up and came over to me, perching on the arm of the chair and putting an arm around me. I tensed and tried to push him away.
“Is there no way you could tell me where this sample came from?”
Jimmy shook his head. “Sorry.”
“It’s amazing, you know. A perfect little particle.” Bob gazed off into the distance then turned our way. “I hope you don’t find it too odd that I had to come and meet you, I had to try and see where you found the sample.”
I shrugged. “Maybe another time.”
Bob stood, hitching up his jeans before hesitantly offering his hand again. “I’d better go. Long ride back to the Midlands. Bessie doesn’t like driving at night.”
“Bessie?” I couldn’t help but ask.
Bob pointed out the window. “My car. She’s been with me since I was a student. You could say she’s my good luck charm.”
I looked curiously at Bob, deciding my first assessment of him wasn’t right. Maybe I could warm to this man. He shoved his hand into mine and we shook, this time a warm, dry palm touching my own.
Jimmy and I saw him off, watching Bessie cough out black smoke as she lurched up the street.
“He seemed to know what he was talking about.” There was tension in the air between us, and I know it was all my doing. I took a deep breath and said, “I guess you picked the right guy for the job. But two years…”
“Think you can last that long?” Jimmy was staring after the coughing Fiesta, not daring to turn his face to mine.
“Scan’s tomorrow. I guess we’ll find out soon.”
Jimmy put an arm around me and pulled me close. I refused to hug him back and stood awkwardly against him, arms at my sides. Two years, I honestly didn’t think I’d have that long.
I heard him whisper, “I’m so sorry,” into my hair. The abyss of an early death was catching up with me again, and I was in no mood to let Jimmy think he’d be forgiven. I shrugged him off and went back inside.
20
The Scan
Freddie Mercury belted out the words to Somebody to Love as I settled into the MRI scanner. The earphones were snug on my ears and as always, I’d brought along my Best of British CD. The nurses had admitted to singing along to the songs before, and it had become a favorite of mine when I had to go in the machine.
My fingers twitched around the alarm bell and as the nurses inched the cot bed back and forth, searching for the ideal position to put me in, I fretted that the line into my arm would snag on something. But I needn’t have worried. One of the nurses muted my music and asked if I was okay.
“Yup, fine here,” I said. I knew the drill. I’d had far too many of these.
The machine started up, clanging and banging over Freddie’s smooth vocals. I never opened my eyes in the scanner; I’d been warned about how claustrophobic the MRI was before my very first one. So I did what I always did. As Freddie faded out and Mick took over with Brown Sugar, I concentrated on the pattern of the bangs, swooshes, zaps and shuck-shucks of the machine and slowly fell asleep.
My sleep was thin and vague dreams tried to materialize. Cured. Remission. A doctor telling me I was a miracle. Me jumping around screaming and shouting as Jimmy beamed with delight. A bright sunny day, a new beginning.
I woke up feeling the weight of the results on me already. I had an appointment for Thursday with my oncologist, and I had an odd feeling of the date being both too soon and too far away at the same time. Nerves fluttered up in my belly as the nurses reversed the cot bed out of the MRI scanner. As usual one of them was already talking to me even though I still had the earphones on.
“I can’t hear you,” I said and gave her a smile. The straps of the cot bed still held my arms down, so I waited for the nurse to pull them off.
She removed the earphones and put them away. “Sorry love. I’m just going to remove the restraints. She ripped the Velcro straps apart and took away the various layers of padding while I yawned and tried to wake myself up. Jimmy was waiting for me in the waiting area, a pre-celebration breakfast at our favorite pancake place planned. But pre-celebration wasn’t the right term, that was ripe for jinxing. It was an end of chemo reward. I’d tell Jimmy when I saw him. No point mucking everything up now.
“I’m just going to take the cannula out now, please stay lying down.”
I watched as she pulled the line out of my arm and pressed a wad of gauze on the hole. Without needing to be asked, I took over pressing it down while she got the tape. The nurse helped me sit up and I went through to the changing room to get back into my clothes. I held my arm up above my head, pressing on the padding in an attempt to stop any bruising. This usually worked, or at least limited the bruising I’d get. I sat down on the bench, staring at my pile of folded clothing and wondering what I’d do if the scan didn’t show what I wanted it to. For the first time in a while I doubted the ability of the pod. Despite the energy I felt, the way chemo hadn’t turned me into a energyless zombie, that I hadn’t spent days crouched over the loo emptying my guts out, that drizzle didn’t feel like acid on my skin from the nerve damage, I still couldn’t entirely give myself in to thinking the pod had been fixing me before Jimmy ballsed it up.
I got dressed slowly, wondering how on earth I was going to get through the next two days.
A rap on the door made me jump. “Are you okay in there?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Just moving slowly.”
“Okay, love. Let me know before you go.”
“Will do.” I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts. Have my fears and hopes mixing in my mind without distraction. I put my shoes on quickly, and left, giving a wave to the nurse as requested and going out to find Jimmy slouched in a seat and playing about on his phone.
“Get this.”
He flashed his phone past my eyes, like he expected me to read what was there in the two seconds he paused.
“Our mate Bob has been working all night. He’s sent me an update. It seems he loves this little particle of ours. He’s been breaking it down under the microscope and digging up its secrets.”
Jimmy looked pleased with himself. I sighed. Who knows, maybe this was how things were supposed to be, fate as it were. Jimmy breaks the machine. Bob figures out the machine. Bob and Jimmy make more machines and no one need be ill again. Could it fix old people? Make their organs like new again? Could the pod make a person live forever? I got a flash of an overcrowded world. Maybe it should be kept secret and safe.
We arrived at Pancakes etc. in Moreton and sat at a table by the window. Neither of us talked much as Jimmy ate his usual maple syrup pancakes while I had the banana topping. The weight of the scan had silenced us both. Not able to eat any more, I sipped my tea and stared at the people passing by on the street.
“Do you really think it’s worked on me?”
Jimmy didn’t reply. He just shrugged and pushed his empty plate back a little, patting his stomach while he did so. “It’s hard to hope, isn’t it?” He stretched out and sipped at his coffee. “You seem so well. That can’t be faked.”
“There’s been a ton of research on the effect of placebos. You know as well as I do that me being so well could just be in my mind.”
Jimmy joined me in people watching. I saw a fat woman go by pushing a pram with a squalling child. Why was it that I got ill when I tried to take good care of myself and people who ate rubbish and never exercised stayed healthy? I knew I was being a bitch, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from coming. I had no right getting ill. I had plans to live to 101. I was going to write an essay about how the world had changed in my time, typed up on a keyboard
and screen that I’d unroll and put wherever I felt like typing. I’d talk to walls with huge screens saying hello to my grandchildren, pioneers settling in on Mars. I’d tend my hydroponics garden, the type everyone had, growing the veg I loved most. And when I felt ready, that I’d said all I needed to, done all things I wanted to, loved to the limits of my ability, I could choose the time of my death, say goodbye in a big celebration and die with a smile.
21
Meeting Sally
I tried to sleep in on Wednesday, hoping to sleep right through to Thursday and the appointment. But of course, that wasn’t possible. I lay there, picking at my nails, the nerves mounting inside me. What would they find? Fewer tumors, and I’d leave as they called me a miracle? Or no change, and the inevitable discussion about what they’d do now the chemo isn’t working anymore.
My fingers hurt. I did this before every scan appointment. Pick, pick, pick. It was a compulsion that had graduated to part of the process of waiting to see my oncologist. Dr. Noble would come in as his happy dappy normal self, or he’d be serious and somber, and that was when we had to worry.
The phone ringing drew me out of circular thoughts. Jimmy was hard at work, earphones on, music at high volume no doubt. I threw off the covers and ran for the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello Kath, it’s just me, your old dad.”
“Hi-ya. What can I do for you?” I sat on the floor, twisting the handset away from my mouth as I yawned.
“I wanted to thank you for talking with your mother.” His voice sounded muffled. I wondered where she was and whether he realized that right now he was very unlikely to get anything over on my mother. “She’s been much happier since you two had your talk. I take it she fell for the story?”
“Oh yes,” I lied. “Hook line and sinker. You’re in the clear now.”
“Excellent. Lots of planning to do.” He paused for a moment and I wondered if Mum was nearby. “I’d like it if you helped. If you’re up to it, that is?”
My first thought was that Jimmy had set this up, and I felt a little ruffled. People shouldn’t have to be told to include me. “I’d love to help,” I said before he thought my hesitation was a negative thing. I told myself that it didn’t matter why he’d asked. Just that he had.
“Look, your mother’s coming. I’ll call you again with a meet-up time.”
I suppressed a laugh, Dad would have made a terrible spy. “Okay, Dad.”
“Speak soon.” He went to put down the receiver and I heard muffled excuses about a wrong number.
I put the handset down and thought about how I was going to pass the day. How long had it been since I last saw Sally? Guilt washed over me, what if she was struggling? I’d been so wrapped up in me and my issues, I’d forgotten about her. Didn’t school holidays start soon? She’d need my support. No, that wasn’t the right way around. It was the kids who would need my help in supporting their mother.
The pod floated into my mind like an apparition. Tomorrow I’d know if it really did fix me, or at least had gone most of the way towards fixing me. If it had worked, if the machine actually mended people, what was the extent of its ability? Could it balance the chemicals in Sally’s brain, make her happy and stay that way? Give the kids a turn to soften the bad memories? What else could the pod do? More than ever I wanted that machine fixed.
Given her recent mental health, I decided not to let her know I was on the way. I got ready, gave Jimmy a wave goodbye and drove off, thinking of scientist Bob and his teenager’s clothing and rust bucket car. Hopefully he was up to his ears in figuring out the secrets of the particles. Two years was so far away. Jimmy said it might be even longer and to prepare myself for a long wait. I pulled up to Sally’s thinking I wasn’t prepared for a wait, and that skinny little scientist had better get a move on.
I rang the doorbell. Would she be in a state? Would she be willing to have a visitor? Was she recovering from this latest downer? I tapped my foot and checked my watch. The time was coming up on one o’clock. I’d thought maybe she’d let me take her out for lunch.
“Hello, Sally?” I banged on the door and rang the doorbell a couple more times. “It’s me, Kath.”
Cupping my hands I tried to peer through the dappled glass in the door. Something moved by the kitchen.
“Sally, are you okay?” I shouted out and banged frantically.
The shape shifted and took a step towards the door.
“Sally, I can see you’re there. You’re worrying me. Please come answer the door.” I thought about threatening her with getting the police or fire brigade to bash open her door. She’d hate me for it, but better that than the million bad things I could suddenly see happening.
“Sally, come on! Please open the door!”
Through the glass, shadows and shapes grew. Thank God, she was going to let me in. The door opened and instead of the soft features of Sally I was faced with Wendy, her sister.
“She’s not here.” Wendy barred my way in.
“Well, where is she? I want to see her.”
I took a step forwards with a view to going inside, but Wendy stepped onto the threshold and pulled the door to behind her. I always thought Wendy was a hard-looking woman. She was a fair bit older than Sally with steely grey hair and not much resemblance to her sister other than both being far too slim.
Wendy crossed bony arms across her chest and glared at me. “You can’t. She’s in the hospital.”
“You what?” My mouth gaped. “You’ve had her sectioned?” I nearly slapped her smug face. “How could you do that to her, your own sister?”
“It was for her own good. She was psychotic. Seeing that dead husband of hers… and the state of the house was horrendous. It’s all I’ve done since I got here, clean and clean.”
“I came by last week, she was improving.” I tried to catch a look inside the house. “You sure she’s not here?”
“She went off two days ago.”
“Sally?” I shouted. “Sally, are you in there?”
“You’re causing a scene. I’d like it if you left,” Wendy tried to say over my shouting.
“It’s not your house. You have no right to tell me to go.” I tried to catch a look in the front window. “Sally, it’s me, Kath!”
“Look, she’s really not here.” Wendy stepped down onto the path, and I actually thought I saw sadness in her eyes. “The doctor said no one can visit, not for a few more days. If you like I will notify you when you can go to see her.”
“What about the kids? Are they okay?”
Wendy drew in a deep breath. Was she trying to stifle tears? She looked at me, her eyes shiny. “I’m staying here with them. They don’t need to be any more unsettled than they already are.”
I took a step back, unaccustomed to a Wendy who showed emotions. “You promise me you’ll let me know when I can visit?” I found an old receipt in the bottom of my bag and jotted my number on the back. “Please keep me informed. I love her too, you know.”
Wendy nodded and took the scrap of paper from me.
“Will you give the kiddies a hug from their Auntie Kathy?”
Wendy nodded again, and this time she couldn’t disguise the tears in her eyes.
I turned and left, the guilt at not being there for Sally eating up my insides. She must have gone down again after I’d seen her last week. How stupid of me for thinking she’d got it beat. I slammed my hand against the steering wheel. Hurry up, Bob. Work out those little nanoparticles you seem to love so much and help Jimmy fix the damn machine.
22
Results Day
I’d gone to sleep with a headache. Sleep was the wrong term to use. I tossed and turned and wished for sleep and a head that didn’t feel like it was about to burst. Thursday morning arrived and I woke up seriously thinking one of my eyes was going to pop out. I held a hand over that eye and rustled around in the medicines’ drawer in my bedside cabinet, grabbing both the Paracetamol and ibuprofen. The pain had manifeste
d as a balloon-like pressure that lived just behind my forehead. I took the medicines, swallowing the handful of pills with a swig of the still too-hot tea Jimmy had brought me, but they didn’t seem to ease the pain in the slightest.
What would I do if my eye did pop out? Call 999? Run screaming to Jimmy? I pictured myself tearing around the house cupping an escaped eyeball in one hand, and Jimmy running after me with his trusty toolbox. The pills must have been taking effect. The pressure eased up just a shade and my eye stopped feeling like it was about to burst free. I glanced at the clock. Less than an hour to go before the appointment. I didn’t really see the point in making sure we were on time, the doc was always at least an hour behind, even if we were the first people on the list. I knew why and didn’t feel resentment towards Mr. Noble. He invariably got caught up on the wards with patients who were arguably in a far worse state than me.
I climbed out of bed as Jimmy exited the bathroom, clutching my stomach as it did a roll. It wasn’t the cancer that was going to kill me, it was the stress before these result appointments that would get me. Friends of mine on a bowel cancer forum had even coined a word for it: scanxiety.
We got to the outpatients’ department in Clatterbridge right on time. Jimmy and I weren’t really talking much. We’d gone through the possible results we might get as we always did as we drove to the hospital. The way we saw it, these were the outcomes; firstly, the tumors would be unchanged. Secondly, there’d be some reduction. Lastly, the tumors would be bigger and in more places. We didn’t dare entertain the chance the pod had done some good to me.
We sat down in the waiting area. Three roof lights created an atrium-like feel, with three groupings of chairs under each light. Consulting rooms ringed the chairs. I grabbed a magazine and opened it, not reading the pages, just staring at Mr. Noble’s door, willing it to open and for his nurse, Jill to appear and call us in. Jimmy sat next to me, not even taking his phone out. The two of us sat like that, fixated on the door as other patients trickled in and the waiting room slowly filled.
That Elusive Cure Page 10