Although we had been told the meeting with the doctors would be at 8:30 AM, it was around 11:30 AM before he showed up, and only the floor doctor at that. The lung specialist was busy, so some questions went unanswered. The lung biopsy, done on Tuesday, again without the help of anesthesia, came back positive. It is SCLC, or small cell lung cancer; a metastasis from throat cancer that was to have been cured 4 years ago. The floor doctor could not, or more likely, would not, tell me what stage of tumor. With his eyes averted, he told me to ask the lung specialist.
It had been suspected, of course, but there was always the hope that it could be something else…a piece of food stuck in the lung and infected perhaps…or …whatever. The dose of reality sent our hearts plummeting to our boots. Bird didn’t say a word, other than ask when he would begin radiation therapy, then he started packing to leave the hospital. He was going home…NOW! He understandably needed to step back and regroup. His first appointment for treatment is next Tuesday.
The routine of our lives will change now. We’ve been through this before, so know what to expect. The last time there was plenty of money to hire help, but this time we are on our own. The treatments are to be intensive and on an out-patient schedule, so it means travelling back and forth to the city every day. He wants to stay at home as long as possible – until he is no longer able to be alone. When that happens, he’ll come to stay with me until this is over.
The traffic was horrendous, so the drive home promised to be long. It was silent in the car until my brother asked me to turn up the music -”and not some of that damned calypso music you play”, he growled. I had a CD of country music, one that he had burned for me a while back, so I pushed the right buttons on the radio. Jimmy Buffet’s voice came floating out at us, the Asshole song, and Bird leaned over to turn it up louder. He cracked open one of the beers we had picked up on leaving the hospital, and sat back in his seat, then looked sideways at me.
“For today I’m celebrating getting out of that damned hospital,” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll think on serious things.”
With one eye on the road, I lifted my coffee, toasting his beer, and we both SMILED.
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
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1 comment:
J'ai lu ton blog à bonne heure ce matin ,même que l'encre de ton écriture était encore tout frais quand je l'ai lu. Je n'ai pas pu commenter tout de suite, faute de temps.Hé que j'ai dont de la misère à comprendre un tel moral. Que j'aimerais dont en hériter une partie.Comme on dit en Amérique:"When the going gets tough, the tough get going"-What you do for your brother is awsome. Brave hearts that both of you are.I guess that love for your kin is the answer. me.xxx
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