Huntress
05-28-2001, 09:02 AM
The pain was more than he could bear. Gritting his teeth he stood and slowly made his way to the bathroom. Here he found the painkillers in the cupboard above the sink and reached for the bottle. Beside the container was the new, unopened box of analgesia patches he had been given. He had not believed that things would get bad enough for him to need constant relief but now he understood why the nurse had recommended them to him. Remembering that it took a while for the drug to be absorbed through the skin he swallowed a couple of strong tablets and then took down the box of patches. His heart sank as he closed the cabinet and was faced with his reflection in the mirrored door. His dark hair had been revealing streaks of grey for some time but it was his pale, worn features that so shocked him now. It was inevitable after all that he had been through but it bothered him nonetheless. He was the one everyone said would never grow up.
The medication began to sink in and soon he felt the welcome dizziness that the pain relief brought. He wandered back downstairs and fell into one of the enormous leather sofas in the lounge. Sinking back into the soft material he gazed around the room for a moment. His photographs were lined up on the shelf above the immense fireplace; he did not have the heart to put them away. As sore as the memories still were after so many years he found comfort in the thought that he was someone once. The pictures showed him how important he used to be. A husband. A son. A few of the images also reminded him how important he still was as a father and a friend but these left him feeling sad as he thought about how long it had been since he had spoken to his children or his friends. It felt wrong to contact them after so long just for their sympathy and he knew he would not be able to speak to them without telling them. He had been independent for so long that he was used to getting by alone. Perhaps that was why she had left.
A lump rose in his throat as he thought about how happy they had been and how perfect it had all seemed. For a long while he had believed that they actually had a chance but then the demands of the busy, dangerous life he had chosen had taken its toll. It was understandable; she could not bear the idea of him being killed and had nursed too many of his wounds, to the point where she could no longer endure the endless nights of worry. He had been pleasantly surprised by how long she had lasted. It was better that she had walked away rather than them being torn apart. At least that was what he told himself.
They kept in contact and she would send photographs and updates of the children. Children. He allowed himself a brief smile; both his daughters were in their thirties now but he still thought of them as his little girls. It was hard to be so far from them and maybe now he had retired there would be time to go and visit them. It was one of his biggest regrets that he had never really got to know his beautiful girls and he desperately wanted to see the grandchild that was due in a few months. It was predicted that he had at least a year left in his current condition and more if he decided to opt for the new treatment that was being pioneered.
With a frown he sat up and reached for the letter that was lying on the table in front of him. The appointment had been made weeks ago and he had been undecided as to whether to cancel it or attend the meeting. He sighed as he opened the folded paper and saw that it was arranged for tomorrow. It was too late to cancel now and he decided then and there that he might as well go. He knew all too well that the main reason for his hesitation was the location of the hospital and he scolded himself; it was too late for silly fears now.
**************
The taxi rolled slowly along the busy road into the city and the driver cursed the traffic as he opened his window to let some fresh air into the hot car. Despite it being the early morning the summer sun was already glaring down and its warmth amplified by the mass of glass and metal on the buildings.
The passenger was silent as he looked out at the immense city skyline. He frowned as the traffic eventually began to move at a steadier pace and he watched the buildings glide past him. He hardly recognised the place. There was a time when he new every street, every rooftop, every detail but the new developments created a shimmering disguise. It was a relief that he was not battered by a thousand memories that familiar places might have triggered but at the same time he felt an odd sense of loss that he could not explain.
The taxi pulled up outside the hospital and he was torn from his reverie. He paid the driver and climbed slowly from the car. His heart was racing as he looked up at the huge building and he made his way through the glass front entrance.
The oncology department on the fifteenth floor was deceptively bright and he felt uncomfortable as he reported to the reception desk. The clerk smiled in recognition and welcomed him cheerily. Now he felt vulnerable, a feeling he had not known for more years than he cared think about. She knew about him, she knew why he was here and she probably knew what the doctor was going to say. An unexpected anger rose within him but he managed a thin smile and walked down the corridor in the direction she had indicated. He found the office and knocked lightly on the door.
The office was large and painted in the same ironically bright colours as the rest of the department. A young man who looked younger than his daughters greeted him but the man's ID clearly said 'professor' and he smiled as the young man shook his hand warmly.
"Good morning, I'm Professor McLeelan. Do sit down." The professor indicated a group of large armchairs and the two men sat down opposite each other. "I've been reading through your medical records." The professor picked up at small laptop from the desk behind him. "I understand you had a tumour diagnosed in your right lung six months ago?"
He nodded, his mouth dry from anxiety, another feeling he had been unfamiliar with until recently.
"And also bone metastases. I'm surprised you didn't realise something was wrong a lot sooner ..."
He shrugged, "I have a high pain threshold. And I've been busy."
The professor scanned through the computer files breifly. "Well, we'll need to do our own investigations and make a thorough examination of course but I'm confident that we can help you. It looks promising, Mr.Grayson."
The medication began to sink in and soon he felt the welcome dizziness that the pain relief brought. He wandered back downstairs and fell into one of the enormous leather sofas in the lounge. Sinking back into the soft material he gazed around the room for a moment. His photographs were lined up on the shelf above the immense fireplace; he did not have the heart to put them away. As sore as the memories still were after so many years he found comfort in the thought that he was someone once. The pictures showed him how important he used to be. A husband. A son. A few of the images also reminded him how important he still was as a father and a friend but these left him feeling sad as he thought about how long it had been since he had spoken to his children or his friends. It felt wrong to contact them after so long just for their sympathy and he knew he would not be able to speak to them without telling them. He had been independent for so long that he was used to getting by alone. Perhaps that was why she had left.
A lump rose in his throat as he thought about how happy they had been and how perfect it had all seemed. For a long while he had believed that they actually had a chance but then the demands of the busy, dangerous life he had chosen had taken its toll. It was understandable; she could not bear the idea of him being killed and had nursed too many of his wounds, to the point where she could no longer endure the endless nights of worry. He had been pleasantly surprised by how long she had lasted. It was better that she had walked away rather than them being torn apart. At least that was what he told himself.
They kept in contact and she would send photographs and updates of the children. Children. He allowed himself a brief smile; both his daughters were in their thirties now but he still thought of them as his little girls. It was hard to be so far from them and maybe now he had retired there would be time to go and visit them. It was one of his biggest regrets that he had never really got to know his beautiful girls and he desperately wanted to see the grandchild that was due in a few months. It was predicted that he had at least a year left in his current condition and more if he decided to opt for the new treatment that was being pioneered.
With a frown he sat up and reached for the letter that was lying on the table in front of him. The appointment had been made weeks ago and he had been undecided as to whether to cancel it or attend the meeting. He sighed as he opened the folded paper and saw that it was arranged for tomorrow. It was too late to cancel now and he decided then and there that he might as well go. He knew all too well that the main reason for his hesitation was the location of the hospital and he scolded himself; it was too late for silly fears now.
**************
The taxi rolled slowly along the busy road into the city and the driver cursed the traffic as he opened his window to let some fresh air into the hot car. Despite it being the early morning the summer sun was already glaring down and its warmth amplified by the mass of glass and metal on the buildings.
The passenger was silent as he looked out at the immense city skyline. He frowned as the traffic eventually began to move at a steadier pace and he watched the buildings glide past him. He hardly recognised the place. There was a time when he new every street, every rooftop, every detail but the new developments created a shimmering disguise. It was a relief that he was not battered by a thousand memories that familiar places might have triggered but at the same time he felt an odd sense of loss that he could not explain.
The taxi pulled up outside the hospital and he was torn from his reverie. He paid the driver and climbed slowly from the car. His heart was racing as he looked up at the huge building and he made his way through the glass front entrance.
The oncology department on the fifteenth floor was deceptively bright and he felt uncomfortable as he reported to the reception desk. The clerk smiled in recognition and welcomed him cheerily. Now he felt vulnerable, a feeling he had not known for more years than he cared think about. She knew about him, she knew why he was here and she probably knew what the doctor was going to say. An unexpected anger rose within him but he managed a thin smile and walked down the corridor in the direction she had indicated. He found the office and knocked lightly on the door.
The office was large and painted in the same ironically bright colours as the rest of the department. A young man who looked younger than his daughters greeted him but the man's ID clearly said 'professor' and he smiled as the young man shook his hand warmly.
"Good morning, I'm Professor McLeelan. Do sit down." The professor indicated a group of large armchairs and the two men sat down opposite each other. "I've been reading through your medical records." The professor picked up at small laptop from the desk behind him. "I understand you had a tumour diagnosed in your right lung six months ago?"
He nodded, his mouth dry from anxiety, another feeling he had been unfamiliar with until recently.
"And also bone metastases. I'm surprised you didn't realise something was wrong a lot sooner ..."
He shrugged, "I have a high pain threshold. And I've been busy."
The professor scanned through the computer files breifly. "Well, we'll need to do our own investigations and make a thorough examination of course but I'm confident that we can help you. It looks promising, Mr.Grayson."