He sighed. “Sam, the scans showed several masses on your kidneys and lungs, a tumor on your spine close to your brain, and bone lesions.”
I gasped. I’d known it wasn’t going to be great, but this… “I don’t understand. The blood work—wouldn’t it show this? And why am I not in pain?”
“Blood work doesn’t always show us that our bodies have masses, tumors, and lesions. It’s why we schedule you to have these scans every year. And I’m glad you don’t have pain.”
“And I did, like eleven months ago, and there was nothing…you said so, said there was nothing there!” My voice shook and rose.
“Sam, you’re right. Scans were clear last year. I can’t be sure when these began to show. It could have started shortly after that, or mere months ago.”
“So you have no idea how fast-moving it is?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t.”
“Do I need surgery, take out the tumor, maybe the masses?”
“The tumor isn’t large, but where it’s located isn’t ideal. I feel the best course of action would be chemotherapy and radiation. Shrink what we can or kill it.”
“Will that work?”
“Sam.” He looked so sympathetic, and I hated it. “I don’t know.”
“And no medications will help?”
“I will have you on meds, but each treatment has a role to play here. Pills are just part of it.”
I nodded, my chest heavy, tears prickling my eyes. “Dr. Marin, I need you to be honest with me.”
“Always, Sam.”
“If this doesn’t work, if the chemo or radiation or pills fail. I’m going to die aren’t I?”
He got up and moved to the chair beside me. He reached out and took my hand. “I don’t like answering questions like that.”
“I know, but I need to understand, to see the whole picture. If that tumor grows, if the masses get bigger, if the lesions stay, I have to know, please.”
Dr. Marin’s shoulders slumped. “If this fails then, yes, Sam, you’ll die.”
I nodded and squeezed his hand tighter. “If I do all this again, the chemo, radiation, how long will it keep me alive? Could I go back into remission?”
“That I don’t know, but it’s our only option right now.”
“Okay…uh, can I have some time with this? I…I have some people I need to talk to, arrangements to make and all.”
“Of course, Sam. I don’t want to wait longer than two weeks to begin. Will that give you enough time?”
“Yeah.”
“Let me go get you some water, stay here.”
He left the room and the silence tore through me. Before my bone marrow transplant, I’d done chemo. It hadn’t helped and it had been a nightmare. I’d lose my hair, my skin would crack and bleed, I’d spend more time in the bathroom than any person should, and the pain…it would be crippling. Add radiation into it, and it would be as though I were in Hell.
“Here you go.” Dr. Marin handed me the water and I chugged it down.
“Thanks. I uh, I’d like to go now.”
“Can I call someone for you? Driving might not be the best idea for you right now.”
“No…I’m fine, I am.”
