3-6 Months

Three to Six

White walls. I’ve been dreaming of these white walls for weeks. What happened to the Doctors offices that had magazines on display, pictures of landscapes and a jar with lollipops? I’m usually a half glass full person but sometimes a person  has that gut feeling that something is wrong.

Two weeks ago I came in for a physical and to get some blood work done. I had  been feeling lackadaisical, burnt out and I’ve had no drive to do anything for at least the last six months. I received the call two days ago from Doctor Ross to ask me to come in. He told me that he had the results from the blood work back from the lab and that he needed to see me in person to give me the results. I didn’t ask any questions. I’ve gone back over the phone call in my mind a hundred times. Maybe I should have asked some questions. I haven’t slept much in the last 48 hours. I don’t want to die but I almost want the attention. I just want to know what’s wrong with me.

I could hear the Dr. right outside the door talking with the head nurse for what seemed like 20 minutes when in turn it was only about 2. I tried to imagine what look he would have on his face when he entered the room. I felt that I would know from the look he gave and that would put all the assumptions to rest.

Finally the door opened to a man that I had known for the past 35 years. A man that had delivered me, sewn me up a few times, suggested I go to rehab, and told me I would never have children.

I saw the look on his face. I couldn’t get a read on him. He wasn’t sad or happy or really anything. He had that same stone cold look he always had. He didn’t ask me how I was immediately. He pulled out a chair and placed it right in front of me and sat down.

“Steven,” he said in a stern voice. “How are you?”

“Honestly Sir…How bad is it?” I replied.

“Ok. Right down to business huh?” He said in an understanding tone.

“Stage 4. Liver Cancer. It appears that all the drinking and drugging you did to yourself 10 years ago has caught up with you now. There’s treatments we can do but you probably have 3-6 months to live.”

I probably did not have the normal reaction that most terminal people would have given the news. I felt relief, excitement, and anxiety. I wondered what I was going to tell everyone. I had already rehearsed it in my head over and over. I felt like my life had purpose. I wasn’t going to die I was going to beat this. I now had a reason to move everything out of my life that I did not want there. I was a survivor I always had been and I would not stop now.

“Steven,” Dr. Ross said.

I had been in my own world for a little while and had completely zoned out. I do that sometimes.

“Well. I was right,” I said as tears came to my eyes.

“You know when you just have that feeling?” Dr. Ross nodded.

“Somehow when you called my personally is when I knew something was wrong. You’ve been my Dr. for years and have never called me personally. I guess I need some time to process. I’ll do the treatments if you think they will help. I’ll beat this Dr. I know I will. I have as strong of a feeling that I will beat this as my assumption that I had cancer.”

“That’s the right attitude son,” he said.

“But you need to know this is an advanced case and the treatments will not be pleasant.”

“I know.” I replied. “Well if that’s it then I thank you for seeing me and I need to tell my family.”

Now any normal person might call their loved ones with their first phone call. But I’ve never felt normal and don’t want anything to do with normal.

I dialed the number and anticipated the call I’d been wanting to make for a long time.

“Jim, it’s Steve,” I said with a deep breath. “Look, I want to thank you for everything you have done for me and for keeping me on the past few years. But I’m not going to be coming back in. It’s not working and it hasn’t been working for quite some time. I won’t be coming in anymore. I know it’s unprofessional but I won’t be giving my two weeks either. Thanks.”

I opened the car door and sat and smiled for a moment. I put the car into drive and began thinking. I had been miserable at my job. I had wanted to quit for months and now I finally had the excuse. Given the circumstances I should feel down on my luck. I had just received news that I was dying. But I had never felt more full of life. Starting today I would be able to live how I wanted to live, to do the things I had always wanted to do and to make peace with life. I was going to take on all the projects that I had been putting off for years, I was going to go visit my grandmother, and I was going to go on a surf trip I had been meaning to take.

I pulled up into the driveway as I had many times but this time was different. I went straight to my studio and picked up the guitar and a pad and pen and began to finish the song I had started on nearly three years ago.