Authors: Angella Graff
Ben wiggled his toes, testing to see if he actually could move his feet, and he felt the carpet shifting under his weight. His smaller toes went in between the little threads, down towards the plush cushioning beneath. His hand began to tingle, and Ben realized he was still holding the phone so tightly that he’d cut the circulation to his fingers. He slipped the phone into his pocket and wiggled his wrist a bit.
Okay so he had to go in for surgery. That had been a must anyway, and this was just speeding up the process. This just meant that they would find out whatever it was and he wouldn’t have to play that damn waiting game anymore, because really, that was driving Ben completely insane.
Ben realized he could no longer keep it from his boss, especially if they were going to bring him in earlier. He would have to man up, and make the call. Glancing out, the evening air looked appealing, and so did the sound of a cigarette. He barely felt the press of the buttons as he dialed Albert and held the phone between his shoulder and ear as it rang, his feet propelling him to his balcony door.
“Tell me this isn’t you giving notice,” came the rough, tired voice of Albert Ole. “Stanford, I won’t lose you.”
Ben cleared his throat and went outside into the chill night air. He had his in-case-of-emergency pack of cigarettes crammed between a large gap in the brick wall and he lit one up immediately. “I’ve got some news for you, Al.”
“Lay it on me,” Albert said, his voice going softer than usual. “You’ve obviously got something going on.”
Ben looked up at the foggy sky and sighed. “I think I’m dying.”
“Very funny,” Albert snapped.
“If I was joking, you’d know it,” Ben said, and felt his throat tighten. He cleared his throat so he could continue. “The doctor found a tumor in my brain.”
“Jesus,” Albert breathed. “You’re not shitting me, are you?”
“No,” Ben said slowly. “I think it got worse yesterday or something, because things were really weird when I woke up this morning, and when the doctor called about the results from my second MRI, he was really concerned. They want me to come in for exploratory surgery in two days. I’m going to need some time off.”
“How long, exactly, have you been keeping this from me, Stanford?”
Ben gave a small laugh. “Just a few weeks. Look, you’re lucky I told you at all, Ole, because frankly I was considering just letting the tumor eat me alive until I dropped dead.”
“That’s not funny, Ben. You’re not just a detective, to me. You’re my friend, and you’re an asshole for keeping this to yourself.”
“What was I supposed to say?” Ben bit. “Hey boss, I think I have cancer. If I’m lucky I’m going to be going through massive amounts of radiation and chemo and be completely useless to everyone around me. If I’m not lucky, I’m about to effing die. It’s not exactly a conversation I wanted to have with anyone, okay?”
“Does your sister know?” Albert demanded.
“No, and you keep your damn mouth shut, do you understand me?” Ben hissed. “I’m not about to worry her with information I don’t even have yet. I barely have the strength to deal with this on my own, I don’t have the strength to try and keep her from falling to pieces over my health.”
Albert was silent for quite some time. “Fine. But you have to open up a little more. I can’t do anything for you if you don’t bother to tell me what the hell is going on.”
“I don’t want help,” Ben snapped. “I just want this to be over. Anyway, I have to go, I have to get up early for some pre-op tests they want to run to make sure I don’t kick the bucket on the operating table while they’re digging in my brain. I’ll call you later, okay?” Ben didn’t wait for a reply. He was scared and he didn’t want to face anyone telling him ‘good luck’ or ‘be well’ and the very last thing he wanted to hear was, ‘I’ll be praying for you.’
Ben went back inside, threw his phone on the couch and cracked open a bottle of scotch. If he was about to face what was likely the most frightening thing in his life, he was going to do so drunk, because really, it was the only way to keep himself together.
Chapter Six
Facing surgery was never going to be an easy thing, but facing surgery where they were going to cut open his skull and poke around his brain was probably the most frightening thing Ben could imagine in his present life.
Ben was feeling a little more perplexed, however, when he showed up at the hospital early in the morning the day of surgery. His doctor strolled into his room holding his laptop, his face drawn into a frown.
Without a word, the doctor opened up the computer and clicked a few buttons. Two images appeared on the screen, and he turned it toward Ben. With a frown, Ben managed to make out what looked like a skull, and a bunch of red and blue and yellow lines and smudges all over the screen.
“Do you see this?” the doctor asked.
“Uh, yeah, though I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking at,” Ben replied.
Doctor Burke scratched his chin and stared at the screen for a long moment. “This, Benjamin, is the MRI scan we did of your head a week ago. And this,” he said, touching the second image, “is the scan we took two days ago. You see this?” he asked, putting his finger on a very large smudge on the first image.
“Yeah,” Ben said.
“This is the mass we found, the mass that was causing all of your strange symptoms. If you look at the second image, you’ll see the mass has gone. Not just reduced, but disappeared.”
Ben squinted and saw what the doctor was talking about. “What the hell? What does that mean? How is it gone?”
“Tumors don't just disappear overnight,” the doctor said. “We’re going to do our best to find out what’s going on, but as of right now, I have no answers.”
Ben rubbed his face with the hand that didn’t have an IV needle sticking out of it. “I’m freaking out.”
“There’s no need to panic,” the doctor said, “but I’ll confess, I’m as confused as you are. Maybe more so. I’ll let the nurse know we can start getting ready to prep your OR, and you should be ready to wheel back in about an hour.” The doctor gave him a short nod and then left the room.
Ben looked over computer screen where the two MRI scan images stood; the original, with the large mass weaving in and out of brain tissue, and the second which showed nothing. Something was wrong, because tumors
didn't
just disappear. Brain cancer didn't just go away on its own, not like that.
His hands were trembling and the skin under the tape holding the IV in place was starting to itch unbearably. He scratched around the sticky edge until the skin on his hand turned bright red. With a sigh, Ben dropped his hands into his lap and squeezed them together.
“Okay,” he whispered to himself. “Okay. Exploratory surgery, and I can do this.”
“You're a dead-man,” came a harsh, angry voice from the doorway.
Ben's eyes snapped up and onto the form of his little sister, her brown eyes narrow and angry, her hands on her hips, her hair pulled back making her look even more fierce with her scowl. Ben sighed and laid his head back against his pillow.
“Abby, how the hell did you find out I was here?”
“The damn hospital called me, you idiot,” she snapped at him, her shoes making a faint tapping sound as she marched up to his bed. “They said they attempted to call your emergency contact, but the number was disconnected and being your next of kin, they called me.”
Ben rubbed his face roughly and struggled to sit up more. “Well, that's fantastic, isn't it? Did you tell anyone else?”
“I left a message with our mother, who hasn't returned my call, not that I expected her to,” Abby said. “What the hell are you doing, going in for surgery and not even telling me. Honest to God, Ben, this is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Why?! Why wouldn't you tell me!?” Her voice rose with a hysterical edge by the end of her questions.
“Because it's not exactly easy to tell someone you have cancer in your brain!” Ben snapped before he could stop himself.
Shocked, Abby clapped a hand to her mouth and took a step backwards. “What?” she asked, her voice muffled by her fingers.
Ben cleared his throat, glanced over at the MRI scan images again and then said, “It's... there's... I might have a brain tumor,” he managed.
Abby reached out blindly for the chair that was behind her. She pulled it up, wincing at the fierce squeaking it made being dragged along the floor, and when she reached his bedside, she plopped down. “Do they um... have any idea what kind? What the prognosis is? Ben... God... I'm scared.”
Ben reached for her hand and gave it a little squeeze. “The doctor was pretty sure it was bad,” Ben told her, deciding that she might as well know everything now. “The tumor had sort of wedged itself deep into the brain, and operating on it was going to be really difficult. Today was an exploratory surgery to see what parts of my brain could be damaged should they remove the tumor.”
“Oh...” Abby said, sounding quite far off. “I um...”
“Except, the other day I started feeling different. My vision changed and the headaches and seizures stopped,” Ben continued, ignoring her obvious discomfort.
“Seizures? You were having seizures?” Abby asked, and then followed up with, “Sorry, not the point.”
Ben glared at her but continued. “I called the doctor, and he thought the tumor might have gotten bigger, so he brought me in for another MRI scan which ended up revealing this,” Ben said, and then pointed to the second scan which was absolutely clear of any sort of abnormal masses.
Abby squinted at the scans. “Wait, what?”
“Well, that was my reaction,” Ben replied. “The tumor is clear as day on the first one, but the second one revealed nothing.”
“Oh my God,” Abby breathed. “So it's gone?”
“Tumors don't just disappear, Abbs,” Ben said patiently. “Something happened, but we just don't know what. The doctor is going in today for exploratory surgery, to see what he can find. It's possible, but very improbable that the MRI scan was a mistake, or for some reason unable to pick up on the mass any longer. Either way, the surgery will let us all know.”
“What if it's gone, Ben?” Abby asked. “What if by some sort of miracle-”
Ben squeezed her hand, cutting his sister off. “Abigail, you know I don't believe in God, or any of that Catholic miracle crap, okay. I love you, but I can't take listening to this right now, not when I'm trying to find out how much time I have left to live.”
Abby pressed her lips together, trying to bear the weight of the idea that her brother might actually be dying, and she let out a shaking breath. “Okay. Okay, I'm sorry.”
Ben let her hand go and he tried to smile, changing the subject. “So how's it going over at Sacred Heart? Better than public school?”
“Oh yes,” she breathed. “The students are much better behaved and the lesson plans are stricter, and no more angry parent phone calls about why I'm failing their son or daughter. The staff is great, too,” she said, and her eyes went a little misty.
“You've met someone,” Ben pointed out.
Abby's cheeks pinked. “I... how did you know? How can you always tell?”
Ben laughed and shook his head. “Because I raised you, remember? Who is he? Not a priest, I hope?”
Abby rolled her eyes. “No, not a priest. I mean, sort of not a priest. He doesn’t hold mass or anything, he just teaches. I mean, don't know a lot about him. He's been at Sacred Heart for about six months, came in from a Russian monastery. He lives on the school grounds, teaches the literary arts classes. And um, well, he's blind.”
“Blind? Like he can't see blind? Like white cane and a dog and Braille?” Ben asked.