Powers Unwanted....

NOTE: When dealing with cancer, finding kindred spirits to talk with - whether or not they have had cancer, is vital. Or at least it has been for me. During my first experience, 20 years ago, I met a few people I could talk with about what I was going through, their presence made my struggle more manageable. This time around, it is no different. Many times those closest to the cancer patient have heard about what they are going through - or have experienced it by virtue of proximity - that it becomes increasingly hard to talk with them -- even when it is necessary. So, those cancer patients who are the 'talkative' type, seek others to which they can share their feelings, concerns, hopes and fears. If it were not for these extended friends, dealing with life threatening illness would be much less bearable.

Chapter 19: A Fortuitous Friendship

To Reg it seemed like hours that had past, sitting there in the lobby, watching people pass by. He was becoming more and more used to seeing the 'colors' that people put off, and was getting better at recognizing the 'sick' from the 'healthy'. He could not yet identify what was wrong - he could not identify which people had cancer and which people had liver complications, or coronary artery disease - but telling the sick from the healthy was getting easier.

The brightest auras - that was the term the hippy chick he dated in college used to use. "What was her name? Starbeam? Moonlitght? No... hmmm. Moonglow! Yes that was it, Moonglow!" Reg sat there watching the people pass by, trying to remember now why he was attracted to her in the first place. Maybe it was the fact that she rarely wore as bra, or underwear for that matter. Or maybe it was that she ONLY liked to make love outside -- even in the winter! "Ah, I miss those days", he said out loud.

"What was that, Deary?" a female voice, right next to him on the couch said. Reg had not realized that anyone had taken the seat next to him. He turned to greet the woman and was surprised to see that as he turned to get a better look at her, she seemed to disappear from his sight - like somehow she wasn't really there - existing only in his peripheral vision.

For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating. "Man, this suit must really be playing with me." he muttered.

"No, no, Deary. You are not imagining things." the voice, comforting now, said.

Reg felt a flush of calm pass over him. He looked - from the corner of his eye - and saw that the woman had laid her and on his leg, in grandmotherly fashion.

The woman seemed to be in her late 70's with stark white hair, and her skin had a golden sheen, like she had been sprinkled with very fine glitter. Again, he turned to get a better look, and again her image faded. "What's going on? Am I seeing things? Who are you?" Reg, whispering now. He looked around the lobby to see if anyone noticed that he seemed to be talking to himself.

The woman continued, "You can call me... Gloria. The more you get used to your new situation, the easier I will be able to see. You are simply not there yet, Deary."

"What do you mean, not ready?" Reg questioned.

The old-lady laughed now, lightly, like a grandmother would when a silly grandchild asked an even sillier question, "You have only begun to see your new path. Your life has been changed. You have new challenges to face, new purposes to discover."

"I still don't understand. What the hell are you saying." Reg was getting more frustrated, both with the inability to face this woman directly and with her cryptic language.

"Now, now, Deary! Such language! Settle down and listen. In fact go on watching the people here, and I will try to explain." she said.

She reached out and grasped his hand in hers, the calm engulfed him again. "Every so often there are people who are born special. They have the power to help people. Over time they have been called healers, shamans, sifu or sensei. Some realize their ability, develop them and have spend a lifetime helping others."

Reg turned a little, her image became a little more clear, still shimmering, she was wearing a pale blue dress with a pattern of white flowers. She also wore a necklace with a shimmering blue stone.

Reg looked around, no one in the lobby seemed to notice anything unusual.

Gloria continued, "Thanks to medical technology, there are people like you who are MADE special, through medical treatment, and become...well, become like us, and we need as many of you as we can find."

If Reg had been confused before, by anything from his initial diagnosis only a few short weeks ago, to dealing with the XACTO suit and it's permanence, he was simply lost now. He was glad he was not standing, or he was certain he would have passed out like he did in doctor Warfel's office. For a moment he thought he was going to be sick.

Gloria sat there, patient, letting him absorb what she had said. She smiled, and Reg felt the calming feeling again, "It's o.k. my Deary, you have been through a lot today. I will speak to you again soon. You need to rest."

Reg felt himself leaning over onto the comfortable leather sofa, and he drifted off into sleep.

Chapter 20: A Day of Discovery


"Reg, Reg... Wake Up!!! God, we were so worried! You disappeared!" Polly was shaking him. He sat up with a start.

"Gloria...Gloria?" Reg was trying to bring himself to wakefulness.

Polly, confused, asked, "Who is Gloria?"

"Oh...uh, nobody. Well, she was a woman I was talking with a while ago. She's gone now." Reg tried to explain, hoping Polly would let it go.

"I'm tired. I want to go back to my room." Polly guided him to his feet, as she held him, he noticed that she appeared to emit the most pleasing shade of green light. As he walked he passed many others who emitted various other colors... blues, reds, yellows, browns, greys. It was tiring. When ever he passed by those who appeared 'darker' he got weaker. Passing the young, particularly children, seemed to give him strength. When they got back to his hall, nearing his room, he noticed a bright yellow light coming from his room... "Lucy's here, isn't she?" he asked Polly as they approached his door.

"How did you know that? It was supposed to be a surprise." Polly asked.

"Never mind. I just knew." Reg said. He shuffled slowly to his bed, climbed in, green and yellow light filling the room as he drifted off.

When he woke, the morning sun was streaming into his room at an angle, bouncing off the beige wall, thermal waves from the window heater making the reflections dance on the wall at the foot of the bed. He found he was starving.

The glow of Polly and Lucy was gone. He didn't know what time it was, all he knew is that he could eat an entire side of beef, were it presented to him.

Nurse Clarice had swept into his room in her silent, nursey way. She was taking his blood pressure, checking his pulse.

"Can I get something to eat? I'm starving!" Reg said, sitting up. Now suddenly awake. "Pink, pink. Pink light, Clarice is pink. I don't know what it means but there it is." 


"I will let them know in the kitchen, honey-chile. Clarice will hustle you up some food, don't you worry 'bout nothin'." she said as she left the room.

Reg was really surprised by his appetite. Sausage, eggs, a pancake, juice and coffee... all gone, in record time. He felt invigorated. Fresh. Better than he had felt in days. "Maybe, it had all been a dream. A nightmare of some kind." Reg pulled open his hospital gown, only to discover, to his dismay, the blue fabric of the XACTO suit was still there.

"Damn it! Shit...!" he said, to no one in particular. Suddenly though, a golden glow appeared to his right, in the chair to his right. He turned suddenly, saw that an elderly lady in a blue dress, with white hair was sitting there. He blinked, and she was gone.

He turned away and the glow appeared again. "Slowly, slowly, Deary! And, I think I already warned you about that language. My stars!"

"Gl...Gloria? You are real? You weren't some kind of dream from yesterday?" Reg said, remembering to look at her only from an angle.

"Well, to YOU and others like us I am very real." she said. As he turned slowly, he saw her reassuring smile again. "I am glad you have eaten. It's time to take a walk. We have to get you working, and soon. There are lives to save."

Gloria appeared now next to his bed, offering her hand, he reached out and stood up, steadying himself at the foot of his bed. He slid his feet into his slippers and headed for the doorway. Gloria was already in the hall.

"Today, you will meet some people that need our help. Hurry, our first patient is very ill." Gloria pointed to a room down the hall that only emitted the faintest of blue light.

Gloria continued, "This is Patricia. She has acute myeloid lymphoma. The doctors have done all they can, she's only 10. She has so much to live for, but her light is fading, the cancer is winning, she needs your help."

Something moved out of the corner of Reg's eye. Something red, with what seemed like long nails reaching out to the little girl in the bed in front of him. She was struggling to breathe, seemed very much in pain.

The fatherly instinct in him found him reaching out to shove it away. He was surprised when he felt an almost burning resistance at his efforts.

With one hand resting on the child, he pushed away at the being to his right, "LEAVE HER ALONE!" He shouted. His right hand burned more, but the being disappeared.

Turning back to the little girl he said, "Patricia, Patricia, it's o.k. It's going to be fine. You will be o.k."
She opened her eyes, smiled and looked at him, she whispered, "Is it gone? Did you make it go away?"

"Yes." Reg said, "I think so." He smiled at her. As he was standing there, holding her little hand, a team of nurses and doctors rushed into the room.

"Sir, sir. What are you doing? Can you step away from the child please?", a nurse was tugging at Reg's arm.

"Yes, yes. I'm sorry. I was walking past her room and she wanted me to come in. I think she thought I might have been her father or something." a lie, Reg knew, but he could hardly explain how he really got there.

The nurse continued, "It's o.k. sir, she's very ill. She has been talking in her sleep a lot the last couple of days. It's the medication."

"All right. I need to go back to my room anyhow. I'm really tired all of a sudden myself." Reg said, he was honestly tired, his right hand and arm ached, he needed to lay down.

Noticing his weakened state, the nurse held him by the arm, "O.K. let's get you back to your room. I will send in your nurse."

Reg walked arm and arm with the young nurse and when the got back to his room and he took a seat on the edge of his bed, he noticed a faint yellow glow in the nurses abdomen, shining through her otherwise green light, "You are pregnant? When is your baby due?"

Startled the nurse dropped her stethoscope, "What? How could you...? You can't know that? I haven't even tested..." she ran from the room.

As Reg layed back onto the bed, he saw the doctor who was attending the little girl pass by outside his room. He couldn't be exactly sure, but he was almost positive he heard him say, 'complete remission' and 'amazing recovery' and 'her disease is gone, I don't understand it.'

The 'glow of Gloria' as Reg decided to call it, appeared to his left this time. "See, I told you. You have a new purpose. You just cured that little girl. Now rest, I know this is exhausting."

The image of Gloria vanished as the pink glow of Nurse Catrice preceded her arrival into the room, "I hear  you had quite an adventure today, chile. I also hear you barely made it back to bed, to. So, Catrice be here with some meds, to let you res' for a while." She produced the ever familiar purple syringe, poked it into the IV tube, and once again, Reg drifted off to sleep.

Self-Imposed Exile...

NOTE: The process of cancer treatment is different for each patient. Depending on the type of cancer, the treatment protocols vary, but usually there is some combination of three attacks on the disease; surgery, radiation therapy or chemotherapy. The best method of attack lies, most of the time, in some combination of the three. As much as the disease and treatments vary, so do the reactions of the patient to his or her situation. Some patients are very open about their experience, realizing their role as 'informer' to those around them. Some patients, quietly endure their struggle in silence, beyond their immediate family, few around them know about their illness. Some patients, not wanting to face the reality of their situation, go into denial. They reluctantly endure treatment, convinced that treatment is a waste of time and energy. Most people who are diagnosed with cancer find themselves some where along this spectrum. Each person doing their best to work their way through this experience.

Chapter 17: Unwilling Bearer of Bad News

Polly sat behind the desk, silently trying to catch her breath and digest all the information that was layed out in front of her.
"Oh, my God. What am I going to tell Reg?" she thought to her self. She pushed a few charts around on the desk, trying to give the doctor the idea that she understood what was going on.
She nodded and looked at him, still silent, trying to grasp one of the thousand questions flying around in her mind, "What does this mean? For Reg? Will he be O.k.? I mean is this XACTO thing going to make him better?"
She paused, shaking her head, trying to remember what he had said, "You mentioned side-effects? What kind of side-effects?"

Dr. Emil George, stood now, affecting his professorial air, twirling both sides of his moustache. "Well, my dear. From what little evidence we have from past experimental treatments we know this."
He moved around to sit next to the wife of his patient.
"The combination of radiation and the chemotherapy used has created a bond that will make your husband very sensitive to his environment. This sensitivity will very for him, as with all our past patients. His DNA has bonded with the suit, so predicting exactly what will happen is not very easy."

Polly sat, listening, absentmindedly flipping through more charts and micro-photographs. "So, what I THINK you are telling me, is that you really don't KNOW what will happen to him, right?"

Busily twisting the right side of his 'stache, Dr. George paused, and said, "Well, no. Not exactly."

"Great!" was all Polly could muster, she sank lower in the chair, arms crossed trying to comfort herself like she did when she was little, trying to find that quiet place inside that would allow her to think.

Dr. George continued, "What we DO know is that patients have reported anything from hyper sensitivity to sunlight or sound. Some patients developed heightened senses of smell, hearing, touch or vision."

"Well," Polly snorted, "that pretty much covers everything."

"Yes, but what I haven't told you, is that whenever there is a positive side effect there is a complementary negative one." he was back in the mode of the professor once again, pacing, twirling the stache waving his arms.

"Our lab analysis of other patients seem to point to something to with the body's natural desire to achieve balance. Some how the way the skin has bound to the suit, requires that the electrolytes in the body remain neutral." the doctor explained. He waited for the woman to respond.

She sat there, silent. He waited.

"So, in a nut-shell," Polly stood now, pacing, trying still to pull it all together, "my husband has a life threatening cancer - two cancers. And, while being treated to remove one and cure the other, you used an experimental treatment that has some how gone wrong."

Dr. Emil George tried to interrupt, but Polly was determined and was rapidly pulling herself together, processing the information.

"This material, this 'suit' - the XACTO thing is permanently bonded to his body, leaving him.... Leaving him... What exactly? Disabled? Cured? In, what is the term, in 'remission'?" She paused for the doctor to comment.

The doctor, not standing this time, seemed humbled a bit. Not fiddling with his moustache, he folded his hands in front of him on the desk.

"No. Well, yes. Well, it all depends." he stammered.

"What the HELL, are you talking about?" Polly yelled now.

Continuing the doctor explained, "The effects of the XACTO fabric and the combination of chemo and radiation WILL effectively keep the cancer at bay, at least that is what our resarch shows, but your husband will have to return for re-immersion treatments at least twice a week for the medicine to keep working."

Looking the doctor right in the eye, like her gunslinger great-grandfather might have, "For how LONG? How many treatments will he need?"

For a second time, Dr. Emil George, noted oncologist, looked baffled, "Well, Mrs. Ularguy, we really don't know, but our guess is...forever."

"What am I going to tell my husband?" Polly asked, arms folded again.

Walking around the desk, the doctor offered, "I will be glad to come with you to discuss this with your husband..." Polly cut him off...

"No, thank you. I think you and your team have done enough already." she turned, left the room and walked down to her husband's room.

Chapter 18: Just Get To The Point

As she got closer to her husband's room, she could hear the monitors beeping. Steady, rhythmic beeping, indicating that her Reg was sleeping, or at least resting -- good, it would give her a few moments to figure out how to break all the news to her husband. News that she herself didn't really understand.

Polly sat at her husbands bedside, took note of the bandaged areas of his arms, his neck, his chest. She also noted the way the blue suit seemed to shimmer and move with his breathing, indeed it looked just like his skin, albeit with a shimmering hexagonal pattern throughout. She reached out, took his hand and waited.

She must have drifted off, she didn't know for how long, but woke when she felt her husband squeezing her hand.
"P-P-Pols? Are...you...awake?" Reg said, in a weak voice, barely above a whisper.

Polly stared awake, nearly dropping the pile of notes and papers that Dr. George had given her, "Yes, yes. I am here, hon. Can I get you anything?"

"Maybe just...some water." Reg, was trying to wake up, trying to clear his mind, he kept rubbing his eyes, but for some reason every thing around him looked a light shade of purple, People though, appeared to have been dyed various shades of pastel colors, nothing major, like in a comic book, but just enough to be 'off' from normal. He kept blinking, trying to get his eyes to work right, but nothing he did helped.

Polly turned to the beside table, where a pitcher of ice water sat, condensation dripping down the side, forming a small puddle on the table. She poured the water into a styrofoam cup and held it with one and as she pushed the button to raise her husbands bed with the other.

"Here you go, hon. Small sips, o.k.?" she held the cup to his lips, and noticed him blinking, seemingly trying to focus, or clear his vision. "Is there something wrong with your eyes?"

Looking at his wife, Reg tried to explain, "I...I...don't know, everything looks funny... Strange colors. I can't seem to get my eyes to be clear."

"Hmmm..." Polly, sat quietly, trying to restack the papers on her lap, moving them to the bedside table, next to the water.

"What? Does 'Hmmm' mean, Pols?" Reg asked trying to turn towards her, noting for the first time, all the places on his body that were bandaged. Fully awake now, he next examined the XACTO suit. His skin itched, everywhere. He tried to get under it but quickly discovered, to his growing confusion, that he could not. "Polly? What the HELL? What is this stuff? I can't seem to get under it? My skin is itching so bad it feels like ants crawling all over me!"

Having been prepared for some of this, Polly knew when to call the nurse, she reached for the call button and pressed it - somewhere outside the room she heard a panel start to beep. She turned back towards her husband.

Nurse Catrice swept in, "My, my, my chil' you's awake now! Scratchin' like a ol' hound dog! Let me give you somthin' to hep you out." She produced a syringe containing puple liquid, poked it into his IV line, and Reg felt a sudden rush of cool spread through his body, like he had been suddenly plunged in to a cool summer stream.

As the medicine took effect, Polly took a breath. Trying to figure out how to tell her husband all he was facing, not sure that she could.

Still trying, confusedly at the edges of the XACTO fabric, Reg couldn't understand what was going on. "Jesus, this stupid fabric is stuck to me, I see weird colors, my wife seems to be concerned. GOD someone tell me SOMETHING!" he thought to himself.

Polly grabbed his hands, trying to calm him. She began, "Reg, I don't know how else to tell you, there is just so much the doctor tried to explain to me while you were recovering."

"Where should I start?" she said, searching for a good point at which to tell her husband what had happened. "The surgery, that's a good point." she said, more for herself than for Reg. "Your surgery went well, they got all the colon cancer - and none of your other organs are affected - which is good, but they had to treat the other, spreading cancer, with this blue fabric."

Looking at Polly, waiting for more, Reg had relaxed a bit, leaned back into his bed, "I remember him talking about that fabric. It helps deliver my chemotherapy."

"Yes. And. Well. There's more." Polly was still searching for a way to tell him the rest.

"What do you mean, more" Reg said, running his hands over his blue suit, still itching a bit, but not as bad, Reg listened as his wife explained his situation.

"... well Reg, that's about it. The suit that is keeping you alive, is permanent. You will also have to return to the hospital every month to be re-treated in the biomemetic gel tank. You will also experience 'other symptoms' that are unique to your body, and how the DNA has bonded to your system." Polly stopped, reached for he water, her mouth dry from all the explaining.

Reg sat silently, blinking, much has Polly had in Dr. Georges' consultation room, trying to absorb everything he had just heard. He was stuck. Literally. Alive, but stuck none the less. This stupid blue suit, his messed up vision. The incessant itching,  "God, what ELSE can happen?" he thought to himself.

Suddenly, Reg sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed and announced. "Help me up, Polly. I gotta get out of this room for a while. I gotta think."

He tried standing, knees wobbly, Polly had to catch him as he steadied himself at his bedside. "Just let me be, Polly. I gotta figure this out for myself." Reg pushed past her heading unsteadily for his door and wandered out into the hallway, and down the corridor.

Once in the hallway, Reg moved slowly along the wall, making his way past the other patient rooms. When he passed he noticed that each patient he saw had their own unique color, some brighter, some more dim, some practically non-existent. From the pieces of conversations he heard in passing from doctors, nurses, and family members he quickly put together the meaning of what he saw. When he did, he simply didn't know how to handle it, so he kept walking.

When he finally stopped walking, he realized he was in a waiting room near the hospitals entrance. He sat there, watching people walking by - each one a shade and intensity of color unique to them. He was finding himself able to guess which ones were the 'patients' and which ones were the 'family'. The sick and the healthy. He had finally given in to the fact that for some reason, this was how he saw things now. How he would always see them. He would know. He could see. Apparently this was the gift and the curse of his new condition. He HOPED that this was where it ended.

He would discover, that he was wrong. There would be much more.

Nothing Is The Same Anymore...

NOTE: One of the many things that change when a 'person' becomes a 'patient', and eventually a 'patient' becomes a 'survivor' is that life is seldom viewed from the same perspective as before. From diagnosis, through treatment and on to remission, our lives are changed. Depending on the situation - type of cancer, age of patient, general health of the patient, type of treatment, etc. - simply SURVIVING the treatment phase can be a major life accomplishment. For most cancer patients once they get past the point in time of diagnosis, their life becomes consumed with medical appointments, possible surgery, hospital and home recovery, varying dosages of radiation and/or chemotherapy, all with the HOPE of beating back the disease and arriving at the other end alive for as long as possible.
The challenge along the way - for the patient and the family / friends around them - is to keep things in-tact through this time. As much as the person WITH cancer has to deal with life threatening physical issues, those around them must deal with the responsibilities of day to day living.
Treating someone for cancer means almost always a loss of income, as all treatment process eats up not only time, but also the energy for the patient just to get from one day to the next. Even in the best of circumstances - in families with two wage-earners, or those with great insurance or lots of savings, costs rise, funds dwindle and this often leads to frayed relations within families.
It is often easy for the patient to forget that the emotional burden of keeping things together is as tough for the patients family, as the treatments can be on the patient. How BOTH parties deal with things can make a big difference in how strong - physically and emotionally - they will be at the end.

Chapter 15: The Extraction

Reg woke up after another anesthetic induced sleep to find that someone had kindly placed the flat-screen TV in a position where he could see it, rather than leave him - as he had ben for three days - staring at the ceiling, his view only interrupted by nurses and doctors, and family members who hovered over the tank where he lay, healing, adapting to the new treatment. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about being a human guinea pig, but he had no choice, really. What had been done to him was done while he was unconscious, he had no control, no say. He had to simply adjust to the reality that presented itself to him.

"God, damnit. How much longer will I be in this stupid goop?", he said to himself, as he lay there, listening to the noises of the hospital floor come to life for the morning. Phones ringing, machines beeping, carts with food being wheeled around, people flitting in and out with papers, orders, medicines, all geared towards making people better, or simply keeping them alive.

Sometime between the re-hydrated scrambled eggs, and the awful cafeteria coffee that he was being fed by an attractive young nurse, Dr. Emil Goerge appeared over his bed, cleanly shaven, the handle-bars of his moustache freshly waxed, "Good morning, Reg! Are you ready to get out of this stuff today? Your tests show that you may be ready."

"Ready to get out? Is this guy nuts! Why do doctors always ask such stupid questions?", Reg thought to him self. What he said was, "What do you think? I feel like a chicken breast that has been marinating in someones kitchen. God I want to shower and shave!"

"One step at a time. One step at a time. First we have to prep you for the return to a normal environment, and check the performance of the XACTO suit." Dr. George motioned to the door way and several technicians flowed silently into the room, taking up various positions around the tank, working switches, tapping on keyboards.

"The process of extraction will proceed as follows," he stood and, as Reg has noted before, moved into his lecture mode of explanation, playing to the audience of six people in the room.
"First, we will give you some extra medication to help you deal with any pain that you may feel. Then we will raise the temperature of the tank a bit to allow the bimemetic gel to soften, and for you to be released."

The doctor waved and pointed to technicians, "Nurse Beckman, administer the ansethetic. Begin the warming and draining process."

Reg was kind of disappointed that his head had barely cleared from the meds that let him sleep in comfort overnight had worn off, before he felt another wave of cooling numbness flow through his body as he was extracted from the goop. Drifting, floating, trying to stay focused, Reg found himself moved from the confines of the tank to a gurney next to the tank.

Looking at Dr. George, the meds seemed to make his moustache seem bigger, wilder and as he spoke he seemed to be speaking in a time-warp, "Hoooow, arrrrrre, youuuuuu. Feeeeeling?"

Forcing his eyes to focus on the rather silly image before him, Reg attempted to answer, "I....something....woozy....feel....smurfy skin, blue?"

The lights overhead flashed by as he was wheeled from his room to another, where he was again lifted to  another bed where nurses ran warm water over his body, removing the gel from his blue XACTO suit. After the bath, it was another trip down another hallway to another room where he was moved again to another bed and this time covered with a blanket.

Pink Cloud Chocolate Nurse appeared over his bed, "Ooooo look at you chile. In yo' fancy blue suit. You be lookin' like Spiderman or somethin'. Doctor wanted me to give you a little something to hep you relax, get used to bein' back with us, regular folk." Catrice, produced a vial of yellow liquid and poked it into the IV. "There, there sweetie, you res' now."

A warm darkness, this time, enveloped Reg and he slept again.

Chapter 16: A Return Marked By Pain

It wasn't medication, or light, or sound, or one of the many odd, often overwhelming aromas that filled the hospital, that woke Reg from his drug-induced sleep. It was the sudden inability to breathe. Startled by the sensation, Reg tried to inhale. Over and over he struggled to catch even a single breath.
"What the HELL! I...CAN'T BREATHE!" he tried to shout, but what his ears heard him say was, "Unnnnnnngh..."

What his wife noticed, as she sat holding her husbands blue gloved hand, was that his eyes flew open, wildly looking about the room. She also noticed him struggling to breathe.
"Honey, honey, stay still! Don't try to move too much. Focus on your breathing."

Nurse Catrice noticed his struggled attempts to draw a breath and quickly fixed the oxygen tube to his nostrils. Polly looked up from Reg's face to thank the nurse, and again she had vanished like a cloud.
"It's O.K.! It's all right! I'm here. Lucy is here too."

As the pure oxygen filled Reg's lungs, his vision and mind cleared. He moved his head, which felt like it weighed 50 pounds, and saw Polly's beutiful face, and right next to her, their sandy haired daughter, smiling down at hime. "How....how....long....asleep?" Reg stammered.

Polly held his hand now with both of hers and explained, "Well, honey, you spent three days in the tank, then a day in and out while they cleaned you up, and then they kept you asleep for another 4 days. So that makes almost a week you have spent in one bed or another."

Reg nodded and looked at Lucy, she seemed upset, "Daddy, my concert was last Thursday. You MISSED it... but Mommy was there."

"I'm....so....sorry, sweetie....I....really....wanted...to...be...there." Reg, exhausted, even with the oxygen, tried to apologize.

Lucy answered quietly, "It's O.K. Daddy. Mommy made a video, you can watch it later at home. When are you coming home? Me and Mommy and Baxter miss you sooo much. Daddy, Baxter sleeps in your chair, all the time." Baxter was the full grown Greyhound they had adopted from a race track, and while Reg liked the dog, he was convinced it was the dumbest beast ever. He insisted on attempting to fit his 170 pound, six foot long body in Reg's leather recliner, his legs, tail and head flopping over the edges when he slept.

Into the room swept Dr. George, with two nurses and a med student, who was maddly tapping on his PDA trying to keep pace with what Dr. George was saying.
"Good, good, good you are awake." he said as he rounded the foot of the bed, stopped to check some monitors, and to fondle the greenish fluid in an IV bag. Looking satisfied with everything, he turned to Reg and Polly.
"Today we will remove your suit, check your progress and start the next phase of your treatment."

After spending a week on his back Reg found he had absolutely no strength to even sit up on his own. So, with the help of the nurse and Polly they worked him up to a sitting position. A nurse stepped in with blue cloth covered cart of instruments placing it on the bed next to Reg.

Dr. George moved in now, donning purple surgical gloves and flippng back the cover from the tray, he picked up a pair of large tweezers and a flat spatula instrument of some kind. "I will now begin removing the XACTO suit. Your new skin should have grown under it after we finished your first course of chemotherapy that it delivered to your system while you were in the biomemetic gel."

Polly had to leave to take Lucy to oboe lessons once Reg was sitting and the medical team had come in. They both gave him a peck on the cheek and were off, it was a good thing, because she might not have been able to handle what came next. The Doctor attempted to lift the edge of the cuff of the blue fabric near Reg's right wrist. When he did, Reg yelled out, "Owwwww. Holly shit that hurts!"

The Doctor tried to continue, ignoring Reg's outburst, "Now, now, it is probably just residue from the gel that has sealed the edge of the fabric. The Doctor now reached for a scalpel on the tray to his right. He proceed to make an incision along the boundary between Regs wrist and the fabric.

This time Reg reacted even more forcefully. "Damnit. What the HELL are you doing?" Reg yanked his arm away, with great effort, and fell back wards onto the bed, blood seeping from  under his hand. "What the hell is going on?"

For the first time, Reg saw true confusion pass over the face of the doctor. "I, I, don't know. This has never happened before. The XACTO fabric has always released after treatment." shaking his head, Dr. George summoned a nurse to bedside, "Here, here, nurse, please take care of this injury."

As the nurse quickly stitched up the wound, Dr. George sat, obviously pondering this new development, not something he had expected. Clearly he was trying to come up with a plan to figure out what was happening.

Returning Reg to his seated position, the doctor approached his equally confused patient. "Reg, I don't know what is happening, but in order to figure it out I will need to attempt to free the suit from other areas of your body."

"What? What do you mean 'free the suit' exactly?" Reg said, holding his bandaged wrist gingerly.

The doctor continued, all note of confidence gone from his voice, "Well, to put it simply I will have to try to cut it free....Like I did at your wrist. We must get samples to see what is really going on."

The next hour seemed like an eternity, to Reg. Tired of all the anesthesia, tired of being misled about his condition, he refused anesthetics and the doctor and nurses tried, unsuccessfully to remove the suit. His screams were heard up and down the floor. Inciting all kinds of concerned looks and hushed voices from the other patients, and staff going about their business.

Towards the end, they had no choice but to sedate the blue-suited patient as he struggled on the bed. Once unconscious they bandaged the eight or ten incision points, and whisked the samples off to the lab to try to figure out what was going on.

A few hours later, Polly returned to find her now multiply bandaged, sedated husband back in his bed. She stormed out of the room, demanding to see Dr. George. Demanding to know what had happened while she was gone.

"Mrs. Ularguy. Please come with me." the doctor led her to a consultation room just down the hall from her husbands room, she noticed she had a thick file and some x-rays under his other arm.

Once in the room, the doctor proceeded to slide x-rays on the wall mounted light boxes. He arranged micro-photographs and printed test results neatly on the table in between himself and the puzzled Polly. He proceeded with a detailed explanation, which quickly went beyond Polly's ability to understand the specifics, what she got from the doctor was this.

"The XACTO fabric suit has bonded with your husbands newly grown skin, in a permanent fashion. We don't understand all the specifics yet, but it seems to have to do with the natural silk in the fabric weave, the radiation needed to activate the suit and the regenerative compounds in the biomemetic gel in which your husband was immersed." Dr. George explained, point in here at charts, tapping on photographs.

The doctor continued. Polly took a couple breaths and tried to follow along, "Your husband was the first subject to receive an entire suit of the fabric. We have used it successfully on other patients, but only in limited coverage situations, and rarely had any problems with the release of the fabric."

Polly put up her hand to stop the doctor from going on, her head was swimming again. "So, what you are telling me is that the fabric suit used to treat my husband's cancer is no permanently attached to his body." She waited for the doctors response.

"Yes. And there may be other.... hmm, side effects that we do not understand yet.... according to other reports." the doctor tried to add with as much sympathy as he could.

Something Happened While You Were 'OUT'

NOTE: Despite advances in science, and particularly in the fight against Cancer, there are still many unanswered questions. Scientists and doctors know that there are three ways to treat cancer; surgical removal of the tumor and a near area called a margin, radiation to kill cancer cells (it also kills some nearby healthy cells too), and chemotherapy - drugs - given orally, through intravenous drip, or by other methods. The larger issue is that even after over 100 years of 'modern' study doctors only really know two things ABOUT cancer. First, there are things (toxins) in our environment that alter cellular division process to initiate cancers, and that there are defects in our genes that can eventually lead to cancer, no matter how clean of a life one leads. After 100 years, it seems stupid to say, but scientifically accurate, "Cancer simply happens."
Research shows us that there are over 200 types of cancer, from those we commonly know about, to those that are so rare that their occurrence simply baffles the doctors treating the patients with the disease. So to is the 'pace' of the disease. Some tumors like those of the colon, can take 10 or 20 years to grow before becoming 'symptomatic' and thereby becoming 'noticed'. While others move so swiftly that many patients die within weeks or months of their discovery. The REAL battle then, for the scientists and doctors involved in patient care is to first identify the TYPE of cancer, then decide which combination of the above mentioned treatment options: surgery, radiation, or chemotherapy - or a combination of the three will give the patient the best possible chance to outlive the disease that is trying to take over their bodies. Sometimes, to the patient - and their families - this almost seems to be not much further advanced than 'stone-knives-and-bearskins'. In some cases treatment is, REALLY, trial and error. If the patient is really lucky, "That which doesn't kill us, makes us stronger."

CHAPTER 12: Uncomfy Chairs and Pink Clouds

After nearly two hours of counting the dots on the ceiling tiles of his room, Reg, leaned over to Polly, who had fallen asleep somehow in the chair beside his bed.
He wondered to himself, "How is it that in a place of 'healing' they make people sit on furniture that resembles some torture device from the Spanish Inquisition?"
His mouth was dry, he spoke softly with crackly voice, "Po-ahl-y, Po-ahl-y, Pols!"
"What is it?" she jolted awake, her iPad slipping from her lap skittering across the floor under his bed.
"I, I'm sorry, Reg. I must have dozed off. How long has it been."
"A couple hours, I think." Reg said, his tongue sticking to his mouth. "Can you sneak me a drink of water, sweetie?"
Looking around the pre-op bay, she didn't see or hear anyone coming beyond the curtain - just the hustle and bustle, beeps and clicks, phones and monitors beeping as patients waited their turn in the operating roms.
"You're not supposed to have anything before surgery." she said, looking sadly at her husband. He seemed scared, smaller than usual somehow. She walked to the sink, slipped a paper cup silently from the wall holder, drew a bit of water from the tap - thankfully it made no noticeable noise.
She turned to her husbands bed, "Here." she whispered, "drink quick... and just a little."
As he sipped the cool water, Reg leaned back, thinking to himself again, "God, I never realized how good a simple mouthful of water could be."


The cup had barely hit the bottom of the nearby wastebasket when the curtain was flung open by a huge nurse, wearing what seemed like a pink cloud over her apparently enormous hair. Her face, that resembled smooth milk-chocolate, sat somewhere between the cloud and the floral-garden of a gown she was wearing.
"High there cutie. We gonna get you some sleepy-sleepy medicine ta hep you relax a bit! My name name is Catrice, and we gonna take good care o' you, chile'!" she deftly lifted the syringe in one hand and an alcohol swab in the other, cleaned the IV port, poked the needle in and in only few heart-beats her smile got biiiiiger. He looked at Polly and her eyes were biiiiger, his eyes wandered down to the button that she forgot to re-do in the office, and his smile, got biiiiger!!!
Polly leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, "My, my, nurse what ever you gave him sure has made him happy! I haven't seen that big of a smile in a long time."
Catrice worked her around the foot of the bed, took Polls tiny hand and placed it on the arm of her droopy eyed husband. "It won't be long now honey, chile." Polly looked at her husband, held his hand and when she turned around to thank Catrice, the nurse was gone. She had slipped way quitely...like the pink cloud on her head.

Chapter 13: Of Purple Haze and Percentages

With the happy meds flowing through his veins. Reg layed there, trying to stay awake as Dr. Warfel started explaining the procedure. Somewhere between 'abdominal incision' and 'remove the tumor' a technician walked by with an iPod blaring 'Purple Haze', by Jimmi Hendirx, and the lyrics, combined with the drugs made it difficult for him to follow along...


Purple haze all in my brain lately things don't seem the same...
Dr. Warfel continued, "...due to his advanced condition we will have to use a special chemical bath to remove the upper layer of skin...the 'stratum corneum', in order to allow the chemotherapy process we will use to be more effectively absorbed into his system..."

Things were really getting fuzzy, Reg was sure he had hard wrong. "Remove my skin? What?" he wanted to ask, but what came out was, "...actin funny....kiss the sky. Wha-wha!" He glanced, again at his wifes ample bosoms....

Polly held his hand, "What was that, Honey?" She leaned in to kiss him again. That silly smile returned.
Reg tried to refocus on what was being said, but all he heard in his head was.


Purple haze all around don't know if I'm going up or down am I happy or in misery? 
He could see Polly nodding her head, trying to absorb everything that was being said.
"During the excoriation process, it is good that he will be under heavy sedation, because, were he awake, he would be in excrutiating pain." the doctor continued.
Reg saw Polly signing more papers as a nurse had handed her a clip-board and pen.
"There could be complications, since this is an experimental treatment, there is about a 10% chance that the polychemical bonding process will be permanent."

Pink-Cloud-Chocolate Nurse pushed more happy sauce into his IV and Reg felt himself slipping... He wanted to ask, "WHAT could become permanent?" But all that came out was..."...you got me blowing, blowing my mind....tomorrow....end of time."

Again, he noticed Polly holding his hand, looking away from all the papers she was signing. What Polly noticed was Reg, reaching for her breast as he lay their with that smile on his face again. She looked around to be sure no one else noticed, and placed her husbands wandering hand under the blanket.

The last things Reg heard as he felt a cool breeze across his face and the motion of the gurney being wheeled into the operating room was SOME doctor, rushing in, seemingly frustrated about something, "Dr. George, this has NEVER been tried, full scale on a HUMAN! There is a 50% chance it won't work at all. What if something goes wrong?"
The blue masked Dr. George, turned to the green-striped Dr. 'Frustrated' and said, "Don't worry...this procedure is entirely safe...nothing could go wrong."

Reg made one final attempt at protest, but all he heard in his head was,


"...help me, help me, i don't know, can't go on like this, blow my mind."
What he said was, "....blow my mind, blow my mind!"
Pink Cloud Chocololate Lady lowered the mask saying...."You can be SURE of that honey, chile, now breathe..."


Chapter 14: 'Lifestyle changes'? Are you KIDDING ME?


When Reg finally opened his eyes, he noticed something. He couldn't 'feel' anything else. The last time he had this sensation was when Calvin 'The Crusher' McGurt pile drove him into the mat during his senior year on the wrestling team, the pinched nerve in his neck, left him paralyzed for a week before the swelling went down and he regained his senses.
So, much like that time on the mat, he lay there, trying to take bodily stock. He blinked. O.K. eyes work. He opened and closed his mouth. O.K. jaw works. He moved his head side to side to side and was met with a strange sensation - his head felt wet, and like it was suspended in Jello. He tried to lift his head. No luck, it seemed it was strapped down. Before he cold continue his self-check, he heard a familiar, comforting voice, his wife Polly was speaking.

"Honey, Honey, Reg? You're awake!" Polly announced. Reg wondered why she wasn't holding his hand. She always his hand. It was her way, whenever she talked to him, she held his hand.
"Arrrrrgh! Owwwww!" is what came out of Regs' mouth, as searing pain, like someone raking a thousand red-hot needles from his finger tips to his head. When the pain reached his brain, it became a searing white light that burned the image of his wife from his vision and repalced it with a strange outline, like a high contrast photograph or something.

"Reg, don't move! Don't move, you are still healing. Moving will only make it worse, make it harder for you to get used to things the way they are." Peggy said, still not holding his hand. Why couldn't she hold his hand.

A few moments passed, his mind cleared, and he tried a few words. "Wha, What? What hap - pened?"
He opened his eyes, his vision returned to normal, he focused on his wifes face.

"The doctors GOT the whole Colon tumor." she said, smiling down at him. He saw a quiver apeaer in her lip. "But, but...there was something else wrong...You needed a special procedure to keep you alive, because of the other cancer, the lymphoma." she paused to wipe a way some tears from her eye and to blow her nose. "I'm sorry, honey. They won't let me hold your hand."

Reg blinked again, attempted to continue his self-analysis, and every time he tried to move - his other arm, his legs, his feet, even when he tried to take a deep breath, the searing, tearing, blinding pain returned. Finally exhausted, he gave into the floating feeling, where there was no pain. When he finally opened his eyes again, his wife's face had been replaced by Dr. Warfel's tobacco stained smile, and the handle bar-moustached face of a new doctor.

Warfel talked slowly to ensure Reg heard and understood what he was saying, "Reg, Reg? Welcome back. Don't try to move. You have had major surgery. Life altering surgery. You need to stay calm. Dr. Emil George is here. He will explain what happened during your operation."

Warfels image switched places with George's between blinding bouts of pain. "Nurse, could you please administer 5 ml of Versed please. The patient's pain is returning, we need to pay close attention now that he is awake. I want him evaluated every 2 hours, please note it in his chart." The nurse tipped up a small bottle drew some of the liquid into the syringe, administered it through the hanging IV port, and in a moment, Reg's head cleared a bit, and he no longer felt the burning pain. The new doctor waitied for the medication to take effect.

Wearily, Reg moved his head slightly and looked at the doctor, "What....the....hell...happened?" he managed to let the anger and confusion slip into his voice.

Pulling up a squeaky stool next to Reg, Dr. George began.
"You have experienced new surgical procedures that will change your lifestyle forever!" he went on.
"Well, my friend, your colon tumor removal was textbook. We were in and out in about an hour."
Reg, blinked, waiting for him ton continue.

"Once we got the tumor we began looking around to see what other tissues were involved. This is where things got serious Reg. We discovered that your version of cancer had generated a rare form of lymphoma - we discussed this before your operation, remember?" George explained.
Reg nodded as best he could.

Reg looked around, saw Polly sitting on the other side of the bed now, "Why won't she HOLD MY HAND?!" he wanted to yell, but Dr. Goerge snapped his fingers to regain his attention.
"Reg! Reg! Stay with me, this is where it gets interesting."

Reg could tell the doctor was on the edge of his seat, he was also now fiddling with one side of his long moustache as he spoke. "We decided that no matter what we did, your lymphoma was so involved that we knew we had to move quickly to save you."

"If you remember, Dr. Warfel gave you a couple of rounds of a drug in capsule form before we did surgery, yes?" Dr. George asked, now fiddling with the other side of his moustache.

"Well, that medicine in it's capsule form was, um, less than effective. We had to move on to a new procedure." The doctor rose, spreading his arms as if in triumph over something and continued,
"You are immersed in a tank of a special biomemtic gel that is helping your body deal with the fact that, in order to more quickly and effectively administer the new chemotherapy, we had to remove several layers of your skin to allow the application of a special 'artificial skin' called XACTO." The doctor paused as if waiting for applause.

Reg somehow got the idea that he had made this speech before, or was practicing it for later.  He looked down at his patient and continued.
"In what was a unique process my surgical team removed your old skin and applied the XACTO fabric to your body." the doctor seemed puzzled, seeking some kind of response.

Reg stared back at him, blankly, still not understanding.

"Oh, yes, yes, I have not explained. XACTO stands for 'X-ray Activated Chemo-infused Transdermal Over suit." the doctor announced, triumphantly. A look of frustration appeared on his face, as there was STILL no reaction to from his patient.

Reg continued to stare. "What the hell is this guy talking about?"


With a loud, humph, Dr. George twisted BOTH sides of his moustache before standing up. "I will try to make this simple. Instead of skin you have a synthetic-polymer and natural silk blend fabric which has replaced your regular skin." the doctor could see confusion entering his patients face.

He went on, walking around the tank. Reg realized now he was floating in a tank, of stuff that seemed like jello. He listened to the doctor explain.

"This special fabric is coated with a unique blend of chemicals to allow the full-body administration of a chemotherapy cocktail consisting primarily of 5-flourouacil which is being delivered transdermaly in a continuous process." again, a dramatic pause and a deep breath from the doctor.

Reg finally spoke. "My. My. My skin is gone? I am wearing some kind of suit that replaces it? The suit is delivering chemotherapy all over my body?"

"YES! My boy, you understand!" Dr. Emil George jumped in the air and clapped his hads like his team had scored a goal at some game or another.

"Now, all that you need to do is stay still, and spend another day or so and we can remove you from the gel and let your new skin cure to it's permanent state." the doctor announced, seemingly very happy with himself.

Looking at Polly for confirmation, Reg saw her nod her head, but she still did not look convinced that all was well. "The tank, Reg. That's why I can't hold your hand. But, it looks like your new skin will be a very pretty blue.... Kind of a Smurffy blue..."

Polly broke into a smile and a giggle, which brought the same to Reg, but when he laughed the pain return, but he didn't mind so much, trying not to laugh, looking into his wifes green eyes, and realizing that he was alive and he could get past the pain.

He had no idea just how much his life would change...

Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures

NOTE: In the past 100 years how we treat cancer has changed. Various schools of thought have come and gone. The spectrum of treatment has stretched from prayer, to radical surgery. What has emerged today is a mixture of chemotherapy - either in pill form, or intravenous delivery - and radiation. These two primary treatment options, combined with traditional surgery seem to offer the patient the best chance to beat the beast of cancer. The challenge for the medical community is to figure out how to balance the three pronged approach: chemo, radiation, surgery, to kill the cancer, but save the patient.

Chapter 11: The Third Alternative


AKRON OHIO - 1989

Behind his desk at the College of Polymer Science, the University of Akron professor, Dr. Archer Julius Whitford has an photograph of William Shatner - as Captain James Tiberius Kirk, with the line, "I want that third alternative" and "To: Archer! Good luck finding it." Shatners' autograph scrawled in black sharpie at the bottom. Whitford liked to think of himself as the same kind of renegade as Kirk was in the series; pushing the limits, scoffing at authority, but in the end getting the job done.

Now, he sat, staring at two of the four items on his meticulously clean desk. To his upper right, exactly 6 inches from the top and side edges of his desk sat a mug - his mug from the Plank Instiute - with steaming Guatemalan Antiga coffee, to his upper left a neatly framed photograph of his 8 year old son, Max, in his baseball uniform, just left of center, and two inches from the bottom of his desk, the file of a 9 year old girl with advanced leukemia, exactly one inch to the right of that, laid out on a piece of clear lucite, sat could be the future of cancer treatment, his advanced polyester based-silk blend fabric, coated with a rich blend of cancer fighting drugs designed to be delivered transdermally to the patient. It seemed like the third alternative sat right on his desk.

If this worked, patients would no longer suffer painful needle sticks. Gone would be hours sitting in hospitals as chemicals dripped slowly through tubes into patients arms. Gone too would be the pile of pills taken by other patients, that lead to nausea, vomiting and exhaustion. Once activated by a single dose of radiation, the fabric provides up to three months of treatment. The release of the chemicals controlled by careful forumlaic matching with the patients DNA.

If it worked, it would change the face of cancer treatment, forever and make Whitford and the gorgeous lady doctor seated across from him "rich beyond the dreams of avarice." The fact that Dr. Heather Moore, biochemist used the quote from Dr. McCoy of Star Trek made her even more attractive to the recently widowed polymer expert.

Whitford sat there staring at the file, then the fabric. Picked up his coffee, drank and sat it down - exactly where he had lifted it from.

"Look, Dr. Whitford. If YOU are not interested in the potential of the transdermal delivery of chemotherapy through YOUR fabric. I know someone at Superior Fabrics who would be...." Doctor Moore rose, straightening knee length leather skirt, reached across the desk to collect the file and the fabric sample...

Quickly and accurately pinning the file and the fabric to the desk with his own hands, Archer rose... Looking the aggressive doctor in the eye. "No, no...we ARE interested, it's just that in this day and age of law-suits and FDA regulations we have to take things slowly."

"Dr. Whitford, I came to you because you have the rep as a scientist who takes risks, a man who hates delays, who despises red tape." Dr. Moore was getting upset. She paused to catch her breath. As Archer relaxed his grip on the patient file, she snatched it, flipped it open on, dropped it back on the desk, so the other Doctor could see the photograph inside.

"Melanie Higgins, age 9, advanced myelocytic lymphoma, she has already exhausted three different treatment regemines and her doctors give her less than two months to live." Dr. Moore waited as Archer looked at the photo...several moments passed, then she added. "I noticed the picture on your desk. Your son, I presume, looks about the same age. If the potential cure was sitting on your desk, what would you do, let him die?"

The polyester expert ran his hand over the chemically impregnated fabric, pondering the consequences; the potential to save the life of a child, versus burying his career as a researcher, along with that of the doctor ccross the desk from him. "But will it work, Dr. Moore? Will it work on a human?"

"When my mother developed the STAR chemo therapy cocktail, they asked the same questions. At some point there has to be human trial. Back then the subject was my grandmother. That trial gave her another 10 years." Dr. Moore had to take a breath to hold back the tears, tears she held for her mother. A month after she treated her grandmother, the FDA found out about the test, stripped her of her medical license and she crawled into a vodka bottler and never worked again. She died when Heater was 17, when her drinking lead to the fatal collision with a light pole.

"I have been reworking the formulations she was using for the past 10 years in my lab, and we just received approval for a new drug, called 5-fluorouracil, and we KNOW it works in IV forms, we KNOW it works in PILL form and we KNOW it works as a cream...and thanks to YOUR research in coated polymers, we THINK it can work in transdermal applications" Dr. Moor paused again. She noticed that Archer was looking thoughtfully at the fabric his lab had provided for her experiments.

More in control now. Archer stood straight, picked up his coffee mug and walked over to the window and watched the traffic below. "Have your office call my lab with the measurements for the girls suit. We will have it for you by the end of the week."

"Archer, can I call you Archer?" she said standing at his desk, file an fabric neatly tucked in her briefcase. "You just saved the life of a little girl. I am sure of it."

When she had turned and left, Dr. Archer Whitford returned to his desk, replaced his coffee cup in its proper position, leaned over and adjusted the photograph of his son on the desk. "Well, champ. Dad may soon have a LOT more time to coach your team if this goes wrong. But if it was you who were sick, Dr. Moore is right, we'd give it a shot."

No Good News Today

NOTE: The reactions are many when a person receives the diagnosis that they have 'become' a cancer patient. As in many of life's turning points, we are thrust into situations that we did not ask for, were not prepared for, and do not quite know how to deal with. ALL of these things come into play in the life of the newly diagnosed.

Chapter 9: What the hell did I do?

BACK IN THE DOCTORS OFFICE...
When he finally came too, Reg saw Dr. Warfel and two nurses hovering him, the sharp pang of Ammonia digging a hole in his head.
"Mr. Ularguy... Mr. Ularguy, it's o.k. You fainted.", Dr. Warfel said his strong hands on Reg's shoulders, helping him to sit up along the wall.
"Oh, man...Oh, man..." is all Reg could come up with.
"It happens sometimes, Reg. When people find out they have cancer, it sometimes hits them all of a sudden like this." Warfel said as he and nurse blue-lips helped him up into the patient chair.
"Just to be sure we are going to get a set of vitals on you. Just hang in there." the doctor added. He collected his file and stood at the door. "I will make an appointment for next week and we can sit down and put a treatment plan."

The doctor reached into a pocket of his lab coat and pulled out an an orange bottle, popped open the lid and deftly poured out two red and blue capsules. He handed them to Reg with a little paper cup of water he drew from the nearby sink.
"Here. Take these, they will help with the dizziness you feel."
With a quick tip of his head, Reg took the capsules, drank the tepid water, crushed the cup and tossed into the wastebasket in the corner.
"Swish!" Reg thought to himself. "The first damn thing that has gone right in days..."
Dr. Warfel handed the bottler to Reg, "Take the other two tonight, before bed."
"O.K., Doc." Reg replied. Strange, Reg noted that the bottle only had only his name, the date and '4-capsules' typed on it. He shrugged off the oddity and dropped the bottle into the pocket of his Borelli shirt.

Reg tried to get his head to clear as blue-lips pumped up the blood pressure cuff.
"Jesus. Cancer. What the hell did I do to deserve this?" he muttered.
The rrrrip of the velcro brought him back to the present.
"Every thing is fine, Mr. Ularguy.", blue lips stated, as if the fainting patient had ruined her otherwise exciting afternoon of sitting at the desk, answering the phone and sipping her slurpee.
"Be sure to stop at the desk to get your appointment for next week." she said as she quickly slipped out the door.

In even more of a daze than when he passed out, Reg rose, slipped on his Armani jacket, left the clinic, hopped in the Porsche, slipped through the late afternoon traffic, arrived home and parked the Porsche in the driveway. He felt as if his body had been on autopilot, if someone asked him which route he took to get home, he would not be able to answer.

He entered the house. The after-school, pre-dinner, hustle and bustle of his home seemed oddly strange, like he was seeing things through some kind of haze. His mind seemed to race, sounds seemed clearer - he could hear every off-key note of his daughter Lucy practicing the oboe in her room upstairs. He could hear and smell the crackling of what ever his wife was cooking for dinner in the kitchen at the back of the house. His fingers tingled, his face felt hot.
"Why the hell are my fingers tingling. Man, I gotta sit down."

"Reg, Reg, Honey...wake up and come to the table, dinner's almost ready and Lucy wants to tell you about her concert!" the light from the picture window always seemed to make Polly's long auburn hair glow like fire, made her look even more like the angel she was. In fact, as Reg stretched in his lounge chair, even more like the angel he would need her to be in the future.
"O.K., I'm coming." inhaling the wonderful aroma coming from the dining room, he stood, slid his feet into his slippers and walked to his seat, "Mmmm, smells delicious."

Despite his wife's wonderfully prepared meal, Reg sat through dinner, much as he sat through his ride home from the doctors office, much like he sat in the chair at the clinic where her was given the news - staring blankly at some place in front of him.

Lucy didn't notice as the energetic 13 year-old, self-described 'best oboist in the school' was filling him in on the details of her upcoming concert.
"Daddy. Daddy! Are you listening to me! Mr. Glistner says you have to be there by six o'clock to get a good seat. You're not going to be late, 'cuz of work stuff, are you? I want you to be in front so you can see me and hear me."
"I...have...a...solo!" Lucy announced, stiffening her back, holding up an imaginary oboe.

Reg fiddled with the noodles on his plate, idly spinning a meatball in a circle with one prong of his fork, making a nearly perfect circle in the sauce.
"Daaaaadyyyyy! Pay attention! Mommy says I can wear the purple dress, the one with the yellow belt and bow. The one I got for Easter." she added, as if her wardrobe would get his attention.
Reg looked up from his plate, putting his fork down, "I'm sorry sweetie. Yes, I heard you. 6:00 p.m. front row, Mommy and I will both be there."
"Awesome, Daddy! Mommy, may I be excused, I have math homework to finish before Idol comes on!"  Lucy stated as she rose and gathered her dinner dishes to take to the kitchen.
"Sure, honey. Go ahead..." Polly said, turning her gaze too her husband. She had noticed his obvious distraction all through out the meal.
"O.K., Reg, what's wrong?"
Silence filled the space between them. Reg was back to his meatball spinning.
More silence. He stopped, put the fork carefully down on the edge of his plate, and looked at his wife.
"I have Colon Cancer, Stage II. Dr. Warfel says I need to have surgery and begin treatment as soon as possible." Reg stated, matter of factly.
Polly, usually full of her wonderful wit sat speechless, trying to decide what to say. Her husband was sick. What would they do.


Chapter 10: From The Frying Pan, To The Fire

The days between the dinner time announcement and his next doctor visit seemed to drift by for Reg. Everything just seemed off. His coffee didn't taste right. His favorite t.v. shows didn't seem quite as funny. His golf swing was way off, and the other day he completely forgot a meeting with Linson -- and he NEVER misses meetings -- Carm made his excuses for him, 'car-trouble' or something like that. And, oddly, his damn hands kept tingling! Some times at night when he would wake to use the restroom he could swear his hands were glowing blue! He shrugged it off as 'exhaustion'. So now he sits, once again in the clinic room, awaiting Dr. Warfel to come in with the 'plan'.

As usual it seemed to take for ever for the Doctor to get to them, so Polly, always the one to try to lighten the mood stood up and walked to the exam table.
"You know, stud..." she said in her best Texas drawl, "I don't reckon we ever done it on an exam table..." she had hopped up on the table and was now unbuttoning a button on her mint green blouse. One leg dangling over the other, her matching green heel flipping coyly from her foot.
Accross the room, Reg did his best to work up a smile. Though he did glance at her, and the door.

"The doctor could come in any second...and there's no lock on the door!" Reg said.
When his wife reached over and grabbed the head lamp from its place on the wall and proceeded to put it on her head, turn on the high-intensity light and shine it right down her cleavage, he had to laugh.

He also hopped up from his seat came over to the table, grabbed the lamp and said, "Cut it OUT, Pols!" He laughingly scolding her, and hanging up the device.
"Don't we got one of them lights at home, sugar?" again with the drawl she smiled.
"I think so! We can play LATER, now comeback over here will you!" Reg grabbed her hand and they returned to the chairs, just as the Doctor and his nurse entered the room.

As Dr. Warfel turned to introduce him self to his patients wife, he noticed that the head lamp light was on. "Odd, why is that on?" He said.

Reg and Polly shared a quick smirk between them. "Uh...we hadn't...noticed, Doctor." Polly answered, all traces of her Texas roots gone from her voice now.

Continuing, Dr. Warfel explained, "Alright, here is where we stand. I will just come right out and say it. While your Stage II colon cancer is operable, we have a bigger, more serious issue -- it is treatable -- but we will have to use a more....unconventional approach."

Puzzled, Reg nearly blurted out, "What the hell NOW!" but thought it better to let him explain, besides his mouth had gone dry and could barely breathe.

"First, let me apologize for filling you in fully last week. Given that you passed out when I told you about the colon cancer, I didn't think you'd be ready for the additional diagnosis." Dr. Warfel stood, flipping through the chart.

Reg looked up, shocked. "What the hell do you MEAN I wasn't ready? What the hell weren't you telling me!" Reg had not been this ready to punch a man's lights out in a long time. Polly picked up on this,  reached out and grabbed his hand, she could feel the tension leave his fist.

"You have what we call advanced 'Leiomyosarcoma'." the doctor waited for the obvious question, flipping to another page in the chart.

"What?" Reg, blinking. He looked at Polly, still holding his hand, who had an equally confused look on her face.

"This is a type of metatastic cancer that, we believe arose from your colon cancer. It is very rare, but treateable." Warfel explained. "As a matter of fact, you have already had two initial treatments for this condition. Remeber the pills I gave you when you came too in my office last week?"

"Yes...but you said they would help clear my head? They were some kind of medicine? What the hell!" Reg was really furious now. He wanted to punch the bad toothed smoker, and damn the consequences.

"Reg, I know you are upset, but I had no choice. Your condition is very advanced, we had to start immediately while I arranged for the rest of the treatment. As a matter of fact, you need to be admitted, today. We have a lot to do to keep you alive, and really very little time." the doctor fished through a big notebook on the counter behind the treatment table. He pulled a form from the binder and slid it into a clipboard and passed it to Reg. "This is a release form we need you to sign, so we can admit you and begin treatment."

Suddenly the normally confident, man-in-charge-of-his-destiny sank back into the chair. He looked at his wife, almost trembling - not wanting to let Warfel see his momentary weakness - "What should I do, Pols?" he said, in a voice so low that his wife barely heard it.

Polly looked quickly over the form, it's tiny print hard to read through the tears of concern that were welling up in her eyes. "Sign the paper, Honey. We need to save your life."

With a shaky hand, Reg, signed the the document and returned it to the doctor.

"Mrs. Ularguy, we already have a treatment room ready for Reg. Let's get him settled. We can do the surgery tomorrow to remove the colon tumor and get him ready for the other treatment." Warfel explained, closing the growing file and handing it to the nurse.
"When you get settled in your room, I will explain the rest of the treatment."

Together, Reg and Polly followed the doctor and nurse to a pre-operative room. In a few moments Reg changed into the hospital gown, got into the bed, another nurse came and started an IV, and together they awaited the return of the doctor to explain what laid beyond the surgery.

You Have Been Chosen...

Chapter 6: Morning off

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP....BEEP, BEEP, BEEP...BEEP, BEEP, BEEP....
Turning over Reg fumbles with the buttons on the alarm clock, trying to silence the ealry alarm, so as not to wake his wife. Her day does not start nearly as early as his.

Laying there, he takes a moment to flex his muscles to wakefulness, and do the self-assessment of his body that he learned so long ago during his days in the Army. 'Readiness before Movement', Sgt. McNutt used to bark. "Never, EVER move until you are fully aware! Your body can sense many things before you ever open your eyes or move! Assess, Analyze, Act! In that order. DO YOU HEAR ME, GRUNTS!!'

"Sir, yes, sir", as a reflex, Reg almost yells out... His self-check complete, he rises in the dark. Making his way to his closet, tossing asside his pajamas, he grabs his robe and heads down the hall to the bathroom to shower. Half way there, his insides attack, he almost doesn't make it to the toilet, again.

Sitting on the john, he fumbles on the counter, finds the bottle of Tums, pops it open and shakes out 4 tablets... Taking his time with each one, washing them down with water. His insides finally settle down enough for him to begin his day. "God, this has got to stop."

Looking back, he sees the red trail of trouble again, "Damn, this is not good."

He dresses, showers, kisses his wife on the cheek, toasts up an english muffin, brews up a quick pot of coffee, fills his mug and is on his way to the office.

Halfway through his morning commute, the PDA in his pocket vibrates against his chest. With one-hand on the wheel he reaches in his jacket with the other to retrieve the buzzing device. A glance at the number - it is his secretary. "Good morning, sir. Have you passed the 75 exit yet?", Carmellas always perky voice asked.
"No, not yet, stuck in gridlock, as usual. What's up? Is it Linson? Did he call for a progress check?" swerving to stay clear of a soccer mom in a mini-van with a load of kids, who had decided to drift as she chatted to someone on her phone.
"No, you know he's never up this early. I DID get you an appointment at the clinic. Just go there first, your appointment is at 7:30. I have cancelled your morning appointments." he could hear her tapping on her keyboard - answering the morning e-mails, filtering the junk from the important things he would deal with as part of his day.
"All morning? What's the deal?", he quips...this time tapping the brakes to keep from riding up the back side of a car-carrier.
"The doctor said that you will need a few tests, in addition to a full work up. You ARE well overdue for a check up, you know." his assistant responds, sounding more like a mother-hen than an executive secretary.
"I know. I know. I'll call when I am finished and on my way in."
Reg, flips the device closed. Drops it in the cup-holder next to his coffee and head for the next exit, which leads to the clinic.

Chapter 7: Rubber Gloves, Probes, Needles & More


"Blech. Oh, disgusting!" Reg nearly spits the now cold coffee onto the floor of the waiting room. Having been there nearly an hour, he was getting impatient. He gets up walks across the lobby to the window with the frosted glass. He taps gently on the glass. A blurry form moves. The window slides open.
"Yes." the floral-patterned besmocked receptionist says without actually making eye contact.
"I have been here an hour now. When will I be seen." he says, trying his best - but not quite succeeding - at holding back the impatience from his voice.
Flower lady taps the keyboard in front of her, "Soon. The doctor is not in yet. We will call you." before Reg can ask another question she closes the window with a woosh and a thump. He turns and goes back to his seat.

"Mr. Ularguy? Ularguy? MISTER Ularguy!!"
With a jerk, Reg sits up straight. Eyes focusing on the direction where his name was coming from. He had fallen asleep in all-too-warm waiting room and a tall thin nurse, also wearing the distinctive floral patter stood tapping his chart impatiently in the doorway to the exam rooms.

Rising, Reg looks at his watch, another 45 minutes had passed. "Shit," he muttred to himself, "I'm gonna be here all day at this rate." he follows the nurse through the door, past several other exam rooms.
"Right here, sir. Room 6. The doctor will be with you shortly."

As the door closed, Reg grabbed a three year old issue of Field and Stream Magazine from the rack, "Yea, 'soon', Right."

Just like clock work, slow clock work, Dr. Frederic Warfel enters the room. Reg never really liked the doctor, maybe it was his bad teeth and yellowed fingers -indicating a life-long addiction to cigarettes - something Reg couldn't stand, but by all accounts the man knew his business and had been seeing Reg for almost 20 years.
"Reg, good to see you. It has been a while, nearly 4 years according to your chart." the doctor says as he crosses the room to the sink, washing, then drying his hands dutifully.
"Now it seems you have a problem with rectal bleeding." he stands at the counter, flipping pages of Regs chart, tapping here and there, making notes in doctor-ese.
With a sigh, Reg tries to defend his lack of office visits, but decides it would be a wasted discussion, instead he just sighs and says, "Yea, I know."

"Well, let's see. According to your history. You are now 48, have a high stress job, get only marginal sleep and exercise and there is a family history - on your mothers side - of colon and breast cancer. Is this correct?" Warfel waits, pen at the ready to update the chart.
"Yes. That is all correct. My father is 70 and had colon cancer, he seems to be doing fine now. My mother died of breast cancer at 55." Reg recounted as he absentmindedly picked at some fraying vinyl of the edge of the exam table.

"O.K. this will be the unpleasant part. I have to do a digital exam. Then when we are done, I want you to stop at the lab and get some blood drawn. After that I will send you down to radiation to get a CAT scan of your abdomen." the doctor pulled out his PDA, spent several moments tapping out instructions and notes, made one final tap on the device, which beeped twice.
"I have also scheduled you for a colonoscopy - you are almost due for one anyhow, we usually give them at 50." He dropped the device back into the cavernous pocket of his coat.
"Alright. Please drop your pants, and lean over the table." all was silent except for the stretching sound of a rubber glove being pulled over the doctors rather large hands.

A few hours later, Reg finally left the clinic. On his way to his car he flipped open his phone and called his office. "Carmella, I'm done. I am on my way in." he said, fumbling for his keys and hitting the lock release button for the Porsche.

"Mr. Ularguy, it's almost 3:00. We don't really have anything pressing this afternoon. If you want you should just go home." Carmella, back to the mother-hen mode, looking out for her boss, sensed in his voice that it had been a long day.
"O.K." Reg sighed into the phone as he layed aginst the roof of the Porsche, feeling the sun-enhanced warmth working it's way through his jacket. "I guess I will. See you tomorrow."

Chapter 8: The Waiting Game & The Announcement

Several days later, while sitting with Harvey Linson, explaining why, exactly he still had to pay almost a million dollars to the government, his intercom buzzed. It was Carmella.
"Mr. Ularguy. You have an urgent call on line two."
Rising and extending a hand to Mr. Linson, "Glad to be of service Harvey. I'm glad we were able to sort this out. Your board should be happy that we were able to recover nearly three million dollars."
Still with a look of mild disappointment Harvey Linson took Reg's hand, "That still leaves nearly half-a-million-dollars we have to pay. I guess in this economy, that kind of loss isn't too bad." collecting his files, dropping them in his brief case and snapping it closed, Linson turns and leaves.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Reg tapped the extension.
"This is Ularguy."
"This is doctor Warfel's office. The doctor has the results of your tests back and would like to see you ass soon as possible." the nurse said, in a matter of fact voice, indicating years of making such phone calls... all manner of tone removed from her voice.
"Well, what were the results?" Reg, said, running his free hand over his forehead, then absentmindedly to his stomach.
"The doctor would like to discuss them with you in person. I am not allowed to give results over the phone." again with the a-tonal voice.
"O.K." Reg replied, not really knowing what else to add.
"Can you come in yet today?" a pause as the nurse tapped keys in the background. "We can get you in at 3:30 if you can make it?'
"Alright." came the reply. Reg could feel the blood rushing to his temples and he attempted to rub the stress from them. "3:30 it is."

Tapping the phone again, he rang his assistant.
"Carm, clear me after 3:00 please. I have to be out of the office." his voice wavered a bit from his usual confident tone, something his assistant noticed right away.
"O.K. sir. Is everything alright?" she asked politely.
"I'm guessing there is a problem, since the doctor wants to see me today. I will keep you posted." Reg hung up the phone, glanced at the clock on his desk.
"Christ. It's only 11:00. More waiting."

Without even giving it much thought, Reg raced the Porsche through post lunch hour traffic pulling into the parking lot of the clinic in what would have been record time, had anyone been clocking him. He parked and locked the car, crossed the parking lot, entered the office checked in at the desk and sat in what was becoming an all too familiar chair....and waited.

His appointment time came and went, this time he had no patience. He waked to the check-in window, slid the door open himself startling the receptionist behind the at the desk, who had to look for a place to set her mega-gulp slurpee down on her desk.
"Excuse ME... Can I HELP you?" the annoyance as plain on her face as the blue stain from the slurpee was on her lips.

"Look it's 4:15. My appointment with Dr. Warfel was SUPPOSED to be at 3:30. I'd really like to see the doctor. Which room is he in?" Reg, walked to the door, which just happened to open as another patient was exiting. Reg slipped past the older man, nearly running him, and his walker, over in the doorway.

"Sir! Sir!" nurse blue lips shouted, as she grabbed his chart from the pile on his desk. "Uh, I guess you can go to room 5." she followed him to the room and attempted to close the door behind him as he entered. "The Doctor will be in short...."
"No. You will get the doctor NOW!" Reg commanded, and proceeded to stand in the open door way.
The nurse ambled down the hallway, disappeared behind a doorway, and a moment later the tall form of Dr. Warfel appeared following the nurse, her annoyance clearly on her face, for Reg to see.

"So sorry for all the delays, Reg. These clinic days are night mares for me. They just keep packing patients in on me." Warfel appeared as frustrated with the scheduling as Reg did with all the waiting, so the two kind of leveled each other out.

Once inside the room, the doctor spoke. "Reg, please have a seat."
After they had both settled, Reg in the patient chair. Warfel on the squeaky exam stool. The doctor opened the chart.
Silently he flipped several pages.
Reg, could tell this man never played poker, he could read his face before he spoke.
"The tests show conclusively that you have colon cancer. Stage II." the doctor, looked at Reg, did what he was trained to do - wait for a moment for the patient to absorb the news. He noticed Reg struggling to breathe normally.
"What?...What?... You said.... Cancer?" Reg stood, he wanted to pace, to catch his breath, to regain his composure, but there was simply no space for it in the small exam room.
The doctor went on, "Yes. Stage II colon cancer. You will need surgery, chemotherapy and radiation." more pages flipped, the doctor again trying to let the news sink in.
"We should schedule surgery and put together a plan....." the doctor couldn't finish his sentence because he saw Reg, slump against the wall and slide down to the floor, having trouble breathing.
The last thing Reg heard was, "Chemotherapy and Radiation" then his world went dark, he felt himself trying to hold himself up, but his legs gave out, then darkness.