The Big C

Hi and thanks for selecting my story.

It's one I started eighteen months ago but after creating the premise I couldn't work out where I wanted to take it. I put it on the back burner and went on with another. Re reading it a couple of weeks ago, the last line came to me. With the end point set the rest fell into place.

I should warn you it covers some heavy emotional territory so if you want light and funny then this isn't for you. Also as always with my stories it may challenge some of your ideas on relationships.

Thanks to vr snow for the editing, it was a pleasure to work with you.

Hope you enjoy.

CharlieB4

*****

We met in the oncologist's office, we both got our bad news on the same day. I had been a regular visitor to this office over the last ten years. My wife had bravely fought breast cancer until it beat her last year. I thought I wouldn't be back here, but in the shower a month ago I noticed one of my testicles was swollen and sore.

My doctor ordered scans during a visit and today I was awaiting the results in the office of the visiting oncologists. Jack sat there also, his wife by his side holding his hand. They both looked tired, anxious, and scared. No doubt, I exhibited the same emotions. We struck up a conversation across the room, talking about the weather and sports news. Anything to take our minds off the results of our tests.

They both looked younger than my forty seven years. I would find out later Jack was forty while Sandy, his wife, was thirty six. Dr Green opening her door halted our exercise in distraction.

"Alan, your turn." She said.

Dr. Green was old school, no fluff or padding. A straight shooter almost to the point of rudeness. Her manner had been a shock when we had first met ten years ago, but now I knew what to expect. No nonsense, no sugar coating, the facts, just the facts. She was a grey haired lady of I guessed around fifty five and she hadn't changed in the ten years I had known her. I suspected she had been born a grey haired old lady.

I got up and entered her office. She closed the door behind me, then went to the other side of her desk.

"Right Alan, I have been over your ultrasound scans and your blood test. I strongly suspect testicular cancer."

There it was, the old enemy was back at the gates. Giving me little time to digest her statement, Dr Green ploughed on.

"I want you to have a chest x-ray and CT scans of the abdomen and pelvis to see if it as spread to the lymph nodes or internal organs." She paused and looked up from the reports she had open in front of her. "And we are going to have to remove your left testicle as soon as possible!"

"Don't you want to do a biopsy?" I asked crossing my legs.

"Sorry Alan, the only way to know for sure, is to take it out and cut it open. If we take a biopsy of the lump while it's still in situ then we risk the cancer spreading."

"Okay, I guess it has to go. What's the rest of the battle plan?"

"That's about it, I'll contact the surgeon I use here and organize to get it done ASAP." As she spoke, she tapped away on her laptop, then spun around grabbing two sheets of paper that came out of a printer. "Take these to a radiology centre and get the scans and x rays as soon as you can. I'd like to get the results before your surgery. Any more questions?" Dr Green asked as she closed my file and placed it in her out tray.

"What's the prognosis for testicular cancer?"

"With removal of the testicle ninety five percent of men live normal lives. If it has moved into other parts of the body then that drops to eighty five percent after radiotherapy and chemo. However this is generally a young man's cancer, most cases involve men under twenty five so given your age I would say you have about eighty five percent if it hasn't spread." She had stood up and was standing beside the door waiting for me to make a move so she could open it and shunt me out.

I could see she'd dismissed me so I went out into the waiting room.

"Jack Knox?" Dr Green called and Jack and Sandy rose from their seats and followed the doctor inside.

I'm not sure why, maybe it was the look of bewilderment on both their faces, but rather than leave after paying the receptionist I sat back down. I just thought, knowing Dr Green's abrupt manner, they might appreciate a chat with somebody who has been through some of it before.

I thought they looked bewildered when they went in but on the way out, they were worse. Sandy fought back tears and Jack's jaw clenched so hard the muscles stood out on the sides of his face. Dr Green called the next patient inside, then disappeared again. I stood and went to the reception desk where the Knox's where settling their bill. I stayed out of their way and once they had finished I stepped towards them.

"Jack? Sandy? Would you like to go and have a coffee?" I asked solemnly.

They looked uncertain so I added, "I lost my wife to breast cancer last year after a ten year fight so I've lived through this before."

They looked at each other then back to me, "sounds good Allan, lead the way." Jack said.

We walked out and down the street to a cafe I had frequented with my wife in previous years. The owner gave me a friendly wave from behind the coffee machine.

"Flat white, Allan?" He asked.

"Thanks Jeremy, this is Jack and Sandy Knox." I pointed to the unhappy couple.

He took their orders and we sat down. As you would expect we shared a disjointed conversation, until one hour before we had been strangers. I gave them my brief life story and found out in return that Jack was a builder and Sandy was a physiotherapist. They lived about one hour away from me in a small town in which they had grown up. I showed pictures of my son, who worked in Dubai, and my daughter, who lived on the other side of Australia in Margaret River. She ran a surf shop with her partner. Jack and Sandy didn't have any children.

"We weren't able to have any." Sandy said sadly.

"Not for want of trying though!" Jack added.

Wishing I'd never brought that topic up I moved onto Dr Green. I explained that despite her abrupt manner, she was a very good doctor and really helped my wife prolong her life after a very bad initial prognosis. Jack and Sandy exchanged looks and Sandy seemed on the verge of tears again.

"She was just so rude. Scolding us both for not noticing the changes sooner and saying we may have left it too late!" She sniffed.

"That's Dr Green, um, if you don't mind me asking...what's your problem?" Appalled at my tactless question I quickly added, "I have testicular cancer..."

Jack sat up and squared his shoulders before answering, "Melanoma," he said quietly.

"He has had a mole on his lower back forever. We just never thought..." Sandy stopped mid-sentence and blew her nose. "It used to get red and irritated sometimes but we just thought it was his pants rubbing it."

"What did Dr Green say?" I asked knowing that melanoma can be tricky.

"Surgery. They will remove it and see how deep it goes. If it's deeper than 1 mm then they will take surrounding tissue and nearby lymph nodes for biopsy." Jack replied solemnly, "Looking at it, Dr Green thinks it may be stage two already so that's not good." He bowed his head and Sandy placed her hand on his.

A waiter arrived with our orders which was a welcome distraction. After we had tried our coffee, Sandy turned in her chair towards me and fixed me with a steely stare.

"Allan, how did you and your wife cope when you first found out?"

"Much the same as you two. That's why I hung around. You reminded me of me ten years ago. There is so much to take in and it's easy to become overwhelmed by it all."

"So what did you do?" Sandy pressed.

I stopped and thought for a moment, sipping my coffee. "I guess we were just swept up in it. You will find the same thing, first surgery, then chemo or radiotherapy. I don't think we really stopped and thought about it. We just did whatever they told us to do. It's like a numbness that takes over your life, you don't want to stop and think...and feel too much."

"Is that a recommendation?" Jack inquired seriously.

"No...no, I don't think so. If I had to go through it again, I think I would go and see somebody. You know a psychologist or someone like that, just a person removed from the altered reality that we existed in. To give another perspective."

"Are you going to see someone this time?"

I looked at her puzzled for a moment until I remembered that I'd been diagnosed with cancer too.

"Ah, yes...I suppose I will. Do you want to know something funny? Talking to you just now I forgot all about my own diagnosis," I confessed.

I started giggling. The more I tried to stop the worse it got, until I was into a full-blown belly laugh. It was infectious, as first Sandy and then Jack joined in. What I had said wasn't very funny at all but the absurdity of life's situations overwhelmed the three of us for a few minutes.

As we calmed down and stepped back from the brink of madness, Jack consulted his watch.

"We best be going Sandy," he said to his wife then he turned to me. "We have a dog to pick up at the vet's." He added by way of explanation.

"No worries, I should go and get my scans and x rays organized anyway."

We all got up and went to pay at the counter. While we were standing waiting for our change Sandy put her hand on my shoulder.

"Thanks for staying back Allan. Do you think it would be okay if we stayed in touch?"

"Yes, I'd like to do that if it will help."

"What's your number?" She asked, pulling her mobile phone out of her bag.

She typed it in as I dictated it and then hit send, my phone buzzed in my pocket then she disconnected.

"There you go, now you have my number a well!" She said with a smile.

We all shook hands then went our separate ways, but we remained in touch. We spoke at least once a week as we negotiated the initial rush of surgery and further testing. For me, lady luck was smiling. The surgery went well. The results from the pathologist's examination of my left testicle suggested it had not yet spread. After consulting again with Dr Green, we decided to have one round of chemotherapy. In case there were cancerous cells loose in my system, Dr Green recommended chemotherapy with a drug that was very effective against testicular cancer, just to be sure.

Unfortunately Jack's news wasn't as good. The surgical team that removed the melanoma found it had rooted into the muscle below the skin. They took lymph nodes from various parts of his body, his groin, armpit, neck only to discover cancerous cells in most of them. Dr Green passed him on to a different oncologist who specialized in melanoma. He put Jack straight onto a heavy schedule of chemotherapy, which made him very sick. Then more bad news. The new doctor ordered a full body scan and they found two small secondary tumors.

They were located on the spine. Initially they used radiation to shrink them, then more surgery to remove them. All of this occurred in nine months. By the end of it, Jack had been reduced to a shell of the man I met that first day. His muscles wasted away, his face gaunt and his eyes sunken back into their sockets. Sandy fared no better. The worry and strain had sapped the vibrant woman I had met in Dr Green's office. Through it all, they had shown tremendous fighting spirit. I tried to help when I could.

After I had recovered from my chemotherapy, I worked four days a week and I would drive to see them on weekends. Jack had loved fishing, so I would take him down to the river and launch his little tinny. We would float down the river, sometimes talking, sometimes in silence. I don't actually think we caught a fish the whole time, but it was good for both of us to get out and it also gave Sandy a break.

I was at work twelve months after that first meeting at Dr Green's office when my mobile buzzed. Sandy's name flashed on the screen and my heart went into my mouth. Oh no, what has happened now? I thought. I answered my phone and my fears washed away with one word from Sandy.

"Remission!"

"Wow! That's fantastic! When did you find out?"

"Five minutes ago, we just left Dr Ryback's office. He had the results from a week of testing and it was all clear!" She gushed.

Tears welled in my eyes, . I was so glad for them both. It had been a long hard fight, but they had stuck at it. Remission wasn't the same as cure but after the setbacks of the last twelve months, it was all they were hoping for.

"How's Jack?" I asked stupidly.

"I'll put him on and he can tell you himself!" Sandy replied and there were sounds of the phone being passed to Jack.

"Alan."

"Mate! Fantastic news! I knew you could beat it!"

"We couldn't have done it without you, mate. We can never repay you," Jack stopped, the emotion was getting too much. "Fuck! I'm blubbering like a baby! I've got to get off here, Allan. Could you come over on the weekend? Sandy and I are having a get together of close friends and we would like you there."

"Tell me a time and I'll be there" I replied earnestly wiping my own tears from my eyes.

There was silence and then Sandy voice returned, "I'll let you know when Allen. We are staying in Sydney another night, then we'll come home."

We said our goodbyes and finished the call. I sat at my desk with a big grin on my face and tears dripping onto the pages below. Others in the office looked at me strangely but I couldn't have care less.

On Saturday night I knocked on their door, with a six pack of Jack's favorite beer and a bottle of bubbly for Sandy. Jack greeted me at the door and we embraced. I handed him the beer and he shook his head.

"You sure know how to tempt a guy, but I've given up all my vices. Well except one, Sandy wouldn't let me give that up. No more beer, fatty foods, sugar, meat...I'm going to do whatever it takes to stay healthy."

"Good on you!" I replied with false enthusiasm. Unfortunately I had seen this before, lived through it.

My wife and I had done the same, convinced that cancer had come from the environment and not from us. We became "born again" vegans, evangelizing to all our friends about the benefits of it and the evils of eating meat and any food not grown naturally. We attributed my wife's remission to it, but then it came back. We stayed true to it until Dr Green gave us THE talk. It's time to get your affairs in order, she had said.

After that, it didn't seem to matter. I went shopping the next day and I bought a big tub of ice cream, two thick juicy steaks, a carton of beer, and a case of wine. My wife gave me a knowing smile when she watched me bringing my purchases in. For the last four weeks that she was able to live at home we ate like kings, well, kings on a budget.

Sandy bought me out of my melancholy state with a slap on the behind.

"Naughty boy bringing temptation into our house." We hugged. They were so animated, alive. Dear god, I hoped it lasts.

I sat down with eight of their other friends, to a lentil casserole and a chickpea salad. There was lots of laughing and everybody got on well. I was the last to leave standing at the front door with Jack and I asked him what he was going to do next.

"Get strong and get back to work!" was his emphatic reply.

"Don't rush it mate, take the time to smell the roses," I cautioned.

"I'm going to beat this thing Alan, I've got it on the run and soon I'm going to kick its arse!"

"Good on you," I said warmly shaking his hand, Sandy called out a farewell from the kitchen as I walked out the door.

I didn't see much of Jack and Sandy for the next twelve months. I spoke to them regularly by phone as they updated me on their progress, but our paths rarely crossed. Jack did two months of intensive physiotherapy to get his strength back. Then he was back at work. In his down time he studied, meditation, yoga, and went through a re-birthing ceremony at a commune on the north coast.

Each time I spoke to them, he had read another book from a cancer survivor who told how they beat it. If positive thinking could beat it, then Jack had no worries. However I was worried. Remission just meant the cancer was waiting. I had seen it before, experienced it. Sure, some people go from remission to being cancer free, but it's not a big percentage. When it comes back, it can hit very hard, not just physically, but mentally.

Later that year, I began to think that Jack may be one of the lucky ones. We never discussed his doctor visits, too much negative energy. So I didn't have their side of the story. The call came when I was bringing the bins back in after collection. It was Sandy.

"Alan..." she sounded worried, even frightened, "could you come? please?" The fragility in her voice scared me.

"Sure, what are you doing tomorrow?" I asked.

"No, no. I mean now please, right now," she pleaded.

"I'll be there as fast as the speed limits allow." I was already heading into my house to change.

"Thanks," she said before putting the phone down.

I hustled over as fast as possible. As I pulled into the driveway the front door opened and a distressed Sandy rushed over. As I got out, I could see she had been crying. I moved to comfort her, but she stopped me and then pointed to the house.

"He's in the courtyard off the kitchen. Please, you have to talk to him."

I went inside and made my way to the kitchen, looking through the large glass doors that led to the courtyard. I could see Jack. He appeared to be naked, laying back in a chair in the blazing sun. As I watched he picked up a beer bottle that was beside the chair. On finding it empty, he threw it, smashing it against a nearby wall. From the pile of glass there, it wasn't the first. He reached into an ice bin next to the chair and brought out a fresh one. With some trepidation, I opened the door and entered the courtyard.

"Sandy, I'm going to need another six pack," he slurred.

I moved and got a look at him front on. At least he was wearing speedos, "hi Jack."

"Alan, come to gloat have you?"

"No, Sandy rang. You're scaring her Jack!" His skin was a fiery red. Trying to keep things lighthearted, I said, "Come inside you look like done on that side."

"Fuck off, I don't want your pity. The sun started this, so it can fucking well finish it."

"So it's back then," I said quietly.

"Of course, it's fucking back! All that fucking clean living for nothing."

"What did the doctor say?"

"Who cares? I'm fucked." He took a large pull on the beer in his hand.

It was worse than I feared. Jack had hit rock bottom and busted through into a very dark place. I was lost as to how to help. Part of me wanted to drive back home and hide. His pain brought back memories of my wife's reaction and my inability to deal with her final diagnosis.

I resisted my urge to hide and sat in a chair beside Jack, but opposite the pile of glass. I sat without speaking, staring straight ahead. Jack drank steadily. Another crash signaled the end of another beer. He reached into the ice and retrieved two more. After removing the lids, he passed one to me.

"If you're not going to piss off, then you might as well drink with me."

We sat outside drinking in the midday sun until the ice bin was empty. After being on the wagon for twelve months the mornings drinking had significantly hampered Jack's coordination. He called for Sandy to get more beer, but when she didn't he tried to stand up. He got three quarters of the way up, before stumbling into my lap. Seeing this as a chance to get him inside, I helped him with my arm supporting under his armpits. We walked inside together.

Once inside I sat him in an armchair, telling him that I would get him another drink. I went into the kitchen and banged around a bit. Then I stopped and sat on a stool at the breakfast bar. Jack didn't yell to see what I was doing, so I sat quietly for five minutes before venturing back to where he was. He was sound asleep.