“Hey, Dr. K,” he said, offering a nervous, forced smile.
“Hi, Nick... guys,” the doctor replied, flashing Nick a tight, thin-lipped smile, nodding to the others. Studying the doctor, Nick was surprised to find that she did not look as pulled together as she usually did. Her face was bare and makeup-less, her graying blonde hair flattened. Granted, it was past two a.m., but he had to wonder, had she even been on call that night? Or had she come from home, just because of him?
He didn’t ask. She didn’t give him a chance.
“Nick, we need to talk,” she said, sitting down on stool and scooting closer to Nick’s bed. “Are you all right with the guys being in here, or would you like privacy?”
His heart began to hammer rapidly at the seriousness in her voice. No “good to see you, Nick,” no “I saw you on TV, Nick,” not even a joke about how he’d ruined a good night’s sleep for her. Just “we need to talk.” Not a good sign.
He glanced around quickly at the others; the expressions on their faces were just as serious. It was going to be bad news, and they knew it just as well as he.
A lump rose in his throat. “They can stay,” he whispered, unable to speak any louder. He didn’t want to be alone for this.
Dr. Kingsbury nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Well, let’s not beat around the bush here. Nick, there’s a tumor in your lung.”
There was no sharp intake of breath, no expressions of shock. They all just sat there, stock still and silent, waiting for her to continue, waiting for their immediate questions to be answered before they had to voice them aloud.
“It was hard to make out on the x-ray, but the CT scans that came out show a mass about four centimeters in diameter in the upper lobe of your left lung.”
Kevin was the first to speak. “And it’s... it’s malignant, I assume?”
“Without a biopsy, we don’t know that for sure, but chances are it is. There are always other remote possibilities, but most likely it is a metastasis of Ewing’s Sarcoma. That means that the cancer has spread to your lung, Nick.”
Nick shook his head slowly. “But... how?” he asked quietly. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her; she had just confirmed the worst case scenario he’d thought of earlier, a relapse of his cancer. But he didn’t understand. How could it have gone all the way to his lungs, after his leg, the spot where the cancer had originated, had been amputated eight months ago?
“The lungs are one of the first places cancer like this tends to spread. All it takes is a few cells to get into the blood stream, and they are then carried to the lungs, where the blood is re-oxygenated. If they get dropped off in a lung, they can set up shop there and start to reproduce, eventually forming a tumor. If this is indeed a metastasis, it means the cancer spread before the amputation of your leg and has been growing slowly ever since.”
“Wait, so you’re saying he’s had this tumor since, what, April? March? How come it wasn’t caught before now?” AJ, who had stayed very quiet up until this moment, had spoken out, glaring accusingly at Dr. Kingsbury.
“The last time Nick had a chest x-ray done, back in July, it was too small to be detectable.”
“Wait – July? What about at his last check-up?” Kevin asked.
Shut up, Kev, Nick pleaded silently, looking guiltily up at Dr. Kingsbury. She met his eyes, but her gaze was not judgmental. “Nick?” she said calmly. “Would you like to answer that one?”
Nick scowled. “I didn’t go,” he muttered, shoulders slumping.
“What??”
“My October appointment – I didn’t go,” he repeated, ashamed. “It was the day Aaron came to visit, so I cancelled it. I was planning on rescheduling it, but... I dunno, I just kinda... forgot.” The excuse sounded so lame, even to him. How could he have been so stupid? If the tumor had been found then, maybe it could have been taken care of before it got this bad.
“Oh, Nick,” Kevin sighed, the disappointment obvious in his voice.
He started to say something else, but Dr. Kingsbury quickly went ahead. “It doesn’t matter why it wasn’t caught earlier. It’s been found now, and we need to discuss your options.”
Thank you, Nick thought silently, flashing his doctor a quick smile of gratitude. “What are the options?” he asked, glad there were some.
“Based on what I know about the tumor right now, I would put it at a Stage 2B. That’s out of four stages, Stage 4 being inoperable and, in most cases, terminal.” Terminal. Nick shuddered at the word. “Stage 2B means the tumor is fairly small, but located deep in the tissue and high grade, which means it is growing quickly. Because of the relatively small size, however, Stage 2B tumors are usually operable.”
Operable. He shuddered at that word too. “You mean surgery?” he asked timidly. “You can operate and take it out?” God, he didn’t want more surgery. He really didn’t. But he supposed it was a good thing that the option was there.
“Possibly. In your case, it’s a bit more complicated. Your tumor is in a difficult position – it’s located very near your heart. Operating there is risky.”
Shit... this was not good. “Well... what if you don’t operate? What are the options then?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“More chemo. Possibly radiation. However, based on the fact that radiation didn’t work last time, and you’ve already had so much chemo, I can’t promise you that either of those treatments would do much good.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want more chemo... especially if you’re not even sure it’ll work. What do you think is the best option?”
The doctor pursed her lips. “Honestly... if the surgery were successful, that would be your best chance. But with such a great risk, I can’t urge you to choose that option. That’s something you need to decide yourself.”
“Well, when do I have to decide?”
“Not now if you don’t want to. Take some time to think about it. But I will tell you, Nick, the sooner, the better. The larger the tumor gets, the harder it will be to take all of it out. And it’s already affecting your breathing. Your sats, which show how well you’re breathing, are low, and if they keep getting lower, you’ll have to have a tube put down your throat to help you breathe. If that happens, you will be sedated and unable to speak.”
So basically, this was a decision he needed to make soon, while he still could. He raised his eyes, looking to the guys for help. But no one said a word. He sighed. He could tell this truly was something he needed to decide himself. He weighed the options carefully. If he had the surgery, it was possible that they could take out the tumor, and he would be rid of cancer once again, without having to mess with more chemo or radiation or any of that. But, it was also possible that the surgery could go wrong, and he could die. But if he didn’t go for the surgery, he could die anyway. If chemo and radiation failed, he was screwed.
It was a life or death decision, and either way could result in his death. That was not a comforting thought.
“Well,” Dr. Kingsbury said, rising from her stool, “I’ll let you have some time alone to think. I’ll be back to check on you later, all right?”
He nodded vaguely, still deep in thought. Dr. Kingsbury started for the door, and he heard AJ mutter, “I’m gonna try Claire’s cell again.”
Nick’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of her name. Claire. He wished she were here with him now. Maybe she could help him decide what to do. She’d had to make difficult decisions like this before.
In his mind, he could hear her voice. “...It’s like somebody with their hands behind their back going, ‘Pick a hand.’ And one hand has the cure in it... and the other one has... well, death. What if... what if I pick the wrong hand?”
She’d picked the right hand. She’d taken the risk and beaten the odds. He had a feeling if she were him, she would go for the surgery.
“Cut it out.”
Out of nowhere, the words from his dreams sprang to mind. Her words.
“Cut it out.” He murmured them out loud, testing them. The guys looked up.
“Cut what out?” Brian asked in confusion.
Nick swallowed hard. “I know what I wanna do,” he said thickly. “I wanna go for the surgery.”
Kevin blanched. “Are you sure, Nick?” he asked, studying Nick carefully. “You’ve barely thought about it. It’s a big decision.”
“I know, but... it just... it feels right.” That sounded lame, but how could he explain it? How was he supposed to tell them because of a couple of crazy dreams he’d had, he felt that this was the decision he needed to make?
It was Brian who nodded first, showing his support. Nick figured that out of them all, Brian would understand the best. Brian had faith... faith in the medical system and faith that went far beyond that. “Do you want me to go find your doctor?” he asked Nick.
Nick nodded. “Yeah. Go get her and tell her I want her to cut it out. Cut the mother-fucker out of me.”
Brian smirked; AJ actually chuckled, lightening the mood in the room just a hair.
“I’ll be back,” said Brian, leaving to track down Dr. Kingsbury.
“I’ll be back too,” AJ announced, holding up his cell phone. “Gonna try Claire again. You still want her to come, don’t you, Nick?”
“Yeah,” Nick answered. More than anything, he wanted her to come. She had to come. There was no way in hell he was going to let them put him under for some risky surgery without talking to her first. Without telling her how he felt. She had to know, and if he didn’t tell her soon, he knew he might never get another chance.
When AJ had left the room, Kevin reached out and patted Nick’s arm gently. “You should try to get some sleep,” he said, his voice soothing. “If they’re gonna want to do this surgery tomorrow or something, you’re gonna need your rest.”
Nick nodded, knowing Kevin was probably right. He was exhausted. But at the same time, he didn’t want to sleep. He was almost afraid. Afraid of slipping away and missing precious moments with the people he loved. Or, if he was being perfectly honest with himself... afraid of not waking up.
***
At some point, he must have let himself drift off, for the next thing he knew, he was waking up to find the room darkened and the guys gone. For a moment, he thought he was all alone. A feather light touch on the back of his hand told him otherwise. He gasped and startled, his head whipping around on his pillow to find a lone figure sitting in a chair beside his bed. Breathing hard, he stifled back a cough and blinked. Was it really her?
“Hey, you,” she said softly. “I was wondering when you were gonna wake up. I was about ready to fall asleep myself.”
“Claire,” he rasped, coughing. “Wh-when did you...?” He couldn’t even get the rest of his sentence out for all the coughs that racked his body.
“Nick? Here, sit up.” He could hear the worry in her voice as she slid her arm under his back and helped him sit up. He swayed for a moment, light-headed and dizzy, and then hunched over, coughing uncontrollably into his hand.
“Oh shit,” he gagged as he pulled back his hand and felt the warm wetness there. “Claire-“
She turned on a small light over his bed, brightening the dim space around them, and reached for something. “Here, use this,” she said, thrusting an emesis basin into his hand. He coughed into it while she patted his back. “Should I get someone?” she asked, but he quickly shook his head.
“No,” he coughed, “it’ll pass.”
Finally, it did. Chest heaving, he fell back against his pillows, inhaling the oxygen that flowed into his nostrils as deeply as he could, struggling to catch his breath. She waited, taking his hand in hers and gently rubbing the back of it, until finally, his breathing slowed, and his body relaxed. He looked over at her, mortified that she had been there to witness such a fit. “Thanks,” he whispered weakly.
“No problem,” she replied, her voice hardly audible. She watched him for a moment and then smiled a little. “I can’t believe you. I go out of town for five days, and you pull this! You better not have just been trying to get me to come home, mister.”
He let out a soft chuckle, wincing at the pain it caused. “Well, it worked, didn’t it? You’re here.”
“That’s right.” She squeezed his large hand in between her two small ones. “I’m here.”
He smiled up at her. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but... it just didn’t feel right. Not yet. “So AJ finally got a hold of you?”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding solemnly. “I was just getting off the plane.”
“It’s late,” he said softly. “How long were you stuck at that airport?”
She snorted. “Way too long.” Studying her, he saw how haggard and exhausted she looked. Her hair was flat and limp, yet stuck out in odd places. Her eyes were dull and glassy, and her cheeks were pale. She looked terrible.
No, to him, she looked beautiful. The relief of finally seeing her, of finally having her by his side, made her beautiful.
“I take it they filled you in on what’s going on?” he asked her flatly.
She nodded. “Yeah,” she whispered and looked away. Watching her profile, he saw her throat move as she swallowed hard and could have sworn he heard her sniffle.
“Claire?” Reaching up, he brushed his fingers against her cheek, and she turned her head to face him. Her eyes were not just glassy now; they were shiny. Shiny with... dear God, were those tears? “Claire...” he murmured her name, moving his fingers up to wipe away the moisture that had leaked from her bright eyes. “Come on now, don’t do that...”
She sniffed loudly and shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said tremulously. “God, Nick... I’m so sorry. I just...” She shook her head again, her chin quivering, shoulders trembling.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t lie there and watch her lose it like that. It wasn’t like her to fall apart like that; Claire only cried if things were really bad.
A reality of it made frightened tears spring into his own eyes.
It was really bad.
“I’m scared,” he admitted.
She tightened her grip on his hand and looked down at him, tears streaming from her eyes. “I’m scared too.”
He took a shuddering breath and swallowed back the lump that had risen in this throat. “Do you... do you think this is the right thing to do? The... the s-surgery I mean?”
She nodded slowly. “You gotta go for it, right? I mean, if this is your best chance... you gotta take it.”
“I thought you’d say that,” he said huskily, smiling. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
He could have stayed like that all night, looking up at her face, clutching her hand, not speaking, just looking... touching... holding...
But he couldn’t. Not really. He didn’t know how much time he would have alone with her, but he knew he had to make the most of it. Who knew when or if he’d have another chance.
“Claire,” he began softly, “there’s a lot I need to tell you. I know it’s not the best time... I know it’s not the right place... but I just have to say it.” He paused, mulling over his words carefully. He’d never been good at saying the right thing; how was he supposed to word this? He tried to come up with something suave and charming to say, but his brain felt like mush. Nothing seemed right. She was staring at him, perplexed, waiting for him to keep talking, and finally, he knew he would just have to say the words. Plain and simple.
“Claire,” he said again, and he twisted his hand around in hers so that their fingers intertwined. “I... I love you.”
For a moment, time stood still, and he watched her reaction carefully, waiting...
Her lower lip quivered, and she hesitated for just a moment, her eyes overflowing with tears. And then, she said it. “I love you too.”
A tear fell from her chin and landed with a splat upon his hand, which was still wound tightly around hers. He didn’t flinch, his eyes never leaving her tear-stained face. For just a moment, everything seemed all right. It was going to be okay, now that she was here with him. He loved her. He’d finally admitted it. And she loved him back. And right then, that was all that really mattered.
“Come lay with me,” he murmured, scooting over as best he could to make room for her in the bed beside him. Wordlessly, she abandoned her chair and slid in beside him, nestling herself into the space he’d made for her. She snuggled into his chest, and he brought his arm around her, holding her close.
They lay there together like that for a long time, like they’d done so many times before, and it was not long before she fell asleep. Smiling at the sound of her steady, peaceful breathing, he turned his head and kissed the top of hers lightly. Then he closed his eyes and tried to block out all of the other noises in the room, letting her soft snores lull him back to sleep.
***
“Nick? Come on, buddy, wake up.”
Nick moaned and grudgingly opened his eyes. “Rok?” he rasped groggily, blinking at Brian.
“Hey, good morning,” smiled Brian. “Did you sleep all right?”
“Yeah...” Nick reached out, feeling for Claire on his other side, but his fingers were met with nothing but empty space. “Is Claire here?” he asked, wondering if she had really been there at all, or if that had just been a dream.
“Yeah, she’s still here,” Brian replied, putting Nick at ease. “She’s guzzling coffee in the cafeteria with the guys,” he added with a weary chuckle.
“Did you sleep?” Nick wondered. It didn’t look like he had; his eyes were dull and framed by dark circles, and his face looked pinched and drawn.
He shrugged listlessly. “Off and on,” he said. “There’s a small, private waiting room down the hall that they let us crash in, but... it’s kinda hard to sleep in a chair.” He made a face, rubbing the back of his neck.
Nick smiled sympathetically. “Sorry,” he said.
Brian waved him off. “Not like it’s your fault,” he replied. “So anyway, Dr. Kingsbury is down here, and she brought a surgeon with her to talk to you. You feel up to talking to them?”
“I guess.”
Brian nodded and reached down to ruffle his hair. “I’ll bring them in,” he said, leaving the room briefly and returning with Dr. Kingsbury and another woman who was dressed in blue scrubs.
“Good morning, Nick. This is Dr. Jenna Johansson. She’s a thoracic surgeon, one of our best. I thought you’d like to talk to her about the surgery before you make your final decision.”
Nick nodded, and Dr. Johansson perched on the stool Dr. Kingsbury had occupied the night before. “Well, Nick, I’ve reviewed your CT scans with Dr. Kingsbury, and we both feel that the tumor is operable. It’s in a tricky spot, but I think it’s reachable. If you still want to go for the surgery, this is what it would entail. We would do a thoracotomy, which means going in through the side of your chest. It’s less risky than going in from the front.”
Nick grimaced, the thought of her cutting into his chest making him woozy. It’s either that or more chemo, he told himself, but he couldn’t help but think that even puking his guts out 24/7 would be more pleasant than an operation on his lung.
“Based on the size and location of your tumor,” Dr. Johansson continued, “it looks like you’ll probably have to have a lobectomy.”
“A what-tectomy?”
“It means removing one of the lobes in your lung. In your case, it would be the top lobe of your left lung.”
Nick stared, wide-eyed. “You’re going to take out part of my lung??” he asked incredulously.
“It’s not as drastic as it sounds,” Dr. Johansson assured him. “It shouldn’t affect your breathing much at all. In fact, once we take out the tumor and drain the fluid from your lung, and you’ve healed up, you should be able to breathe much easier.”
Well, he certainly hoped so. He glanced from the surgeon to Dr. Kingsbury, silently questioning her. Was this really the right thing to do?
“This is pretty standard for patients with lung cancer, Nick,” Dr. Kingsbury said. “I know it’s intimidating, but I feel that in your case, the benefits outweigh the risks. If this surgery is successful-“
“I’ll be cured?” he asked hopefully.
She hesitated. “I didn’t say that. After the surgery, we would have to monitor you carefully to make sure that the cancer hasn’t spread anywhere else. And no matter what, we don’t like to use the word ‘cured’ until you’ve been in remission for at least five years. But I can tell you that if the surgery is successful, you’ll be a lot better off.”
He was silent for a moment, considering this. The surgery seemed to be the best option. What did he have to lose? Well, a lot of things. Everything. But he knew he didn’t want to live like this, in pain, coughing up blood, constantly breathless. Dying during surgery was the risk he would have to take, but he trusted Dr. Kingsbury – the benefits outweighed the risks.
He cleared his throat and looked from Dr. Kingsbury to Dr. Johansson. “I still want to do it,” he said. “I want the surgery.”
***
Lying flat on his back on a gurney, looking up at the faces of the five people he cared about more than anything in the world, Nick was hit with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. It had only been a little over eight months since he had lain in this very same part of the hospital, waiting to be taken in for the surgery to cut off his leg. And now here he was again. And this time, it seemed like he had so much more to lose. Not his leg, not even his lung, but... his life.
He didn’t want to die. It scared him so much to know that these last few minutes before the surgery could be the last few minutes he would remember, to know that the words he said to the people around him could be the last few words he ever spoke. He recalled what he’d said the first time around, before the amputation surgery. The “I love you’s,” along with his last wishes, in case anything happened.
Nothing had happened then... but this time, it could. No one had given him any odds, which was probably for the best, but he knew how risky this surgery was. He knew that there could he horrific complications. He knew that once they put him to sleep, he might never wake up. He thought maybe he should try to prepare them... and to prepare himself... but he could not find it in him to say the words.
They knew anyway, he reasoned. The guys knew he loved them, and they knew what he wanted if something went wrong.
His eyes panned across Brian, Kevin, Howie, and AJ and stopped to rest on Claire. Did she know? Did she know how much he cared about her? He’d said the words, but with all the chaos of the last two days... did she really know?
Kevin looked at his watch. “Somebody should be coming to get you anytime, Nick. That guy from transport said five minutes, and it’s been seven.”
Nick didn’t care. He didn’t care if the guy never came to take him in.
“Things are probably just backed up,” Claire murmured. “Unless it’s an emergency, everything takes forever around here.”
Kevin gave a short nod.
Silence.
Nick looked around again; everyone seemed to be looking at something else. Brian was absently chewing on one of his nails, pulling his finger out of his mouth every few seconds to inspect it. Howie’s eyes were on the IV bag that hung on a pole attached to the gurney, watching as the fluid slowly dripped into Nick’s veins. Drip... drip...
AJ’s attention was focused on something outside the small, curtained enclosure, beyond where Nick could see. Probably a hot nurse or something – there were some who looked pretty damn good in those scrub pants. Knowing AJ, he’d found them. No... knowing AJ, that’s what he wanted Nick to think. Knowing AJ, he was just trying to cover up his fear, trying to avoid the situation altogether by not even looking at Nick. If he couldn’t see it, it wasn’t there, and if it wasn’t there, it didn’t exist.
Nick only wished that was how it worked. If that was the case, he wouldn’t look at himself either.
Kevin was still fixated on the time, checking his watch about every thirty seconds. Eight minutes...
And Claire? Claire was looking at the floor, as if she were suddenly very interested in the tiles... white... beige... whatever color they were. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, her bottom lip between her teeth. Her stiff pose changed as a polyphonic version of LinkinPark’s “Crawling” suddenly began to play. “Shit!” she hissed, jumping out of her stupor and tearing open her purse, pulling out her ringing cell phone and glancing at it briefly before shutting it off, cutting off the melody abruptly. “That fucker,” she muttered to no one in particular, shaking her head, her cheeks bright red. “He and I are so through...”
Nick had to smirk, glad for the brief interruption. “Tim?” he asked.
She looked up at him and nodded shortly. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled quietly, “I forgot to turn the damn thing off.”
“’Sokay,” Nick replied, offering her a slight smile. She managed a weak one back, their eyes locking.
Brian must have noticed. “Hey, Nick, how about the four of us guys wait out in the hall? It’s kinda crowded in here, ya know...”
AJ quickly jumped in. “Yeah, and Claire will wait here with you till that transport dude comes back.”
You had to love their attempts at subtlety. Nick knew exactly what was going on, and he could tell by the tiny smile on Claire’s lips that she did too. He didn’t care; he was grateful. He nodded. “Yeah, okay,” he said. Claire nodded too.
“Okay. We’ll see you out in the hall then.” The curtained area cleared as the four men trooped out, leaving Nick and Claire alone together. Immediately, she came closer, coming up alongside the gurney. She slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze.
“You nervous?”
“Very.” There was no point in hiding it; she knew it as well as he.
She nodded slowly. “Remember when we talked about fate... about things happening for a reason?”
“Y-yeah.”
“I still believe that. No matter what happens, there’s a reason behind it. You have to believe that. I have to believe that...”
He didn’t believe it. He really didn’t. Everything happened for a reason – yeah, right. What was the reason behind any of this? Him being sick? Her being sick? Them being sick... together?
Together.
It slowly dawned on him that maybe that was the reason... After all, the only good thing that had really come out of all of this was meeting her.
He looked up into her eyes. “I believe it,” he whispered.
She smiled crookedly and squeezed his hand even tighter. “Then it’ll be okay. Either way... it’ll be okay.”
The curtain rattled and was pushed aside. The man from transport was back. It had been at least ten minutes...
“Sorry for the wait,” he apologized. “Are you ready to go?”
“Y-yeah,” Nick croaked, his palms beginning to sweat. He was probably getting Claire’s hand all slimy. But she didn’t seem to mind. She held onto his hand the whole time, walking alongside the gurney as he was wheeled out into the hall, where the four guys were waiting, just as they’d promised.
The man that was pushing the gurney stopped, letting them each have a turn to say goodbye to Nick before they retired to one of the waiting rooms for a long, long wait. One by one, the guys came forward, and one by one, they stepped back. And then only Claire was left, standing at his side, still clutching his sweaty hand.
He looked up at her, his heart hammering with nerves. “Claire, I... I just want you to know that I-“
“I know,” she smiled. “I love you too.” Taking her hand out of his, she touched his cheek, letting her fingers float up to sweep a few strands of hair off of his forehead. “It’ll be okay.”
He nodded. Either way.
She bent down and brushed his lips with hers, then pulled back, smiling slightly. He looked at her in surprise, instinctively licking his lips. He was met with metallic taste of blood on his tongue. For a brief moment, he panicked, but then, looking back up at her and noticing the droplet of crimson on her bottom lip, he realized. She’d bitten it raw.
“You ready now, Mr. Carter?”
“I guess so,” he replied hesitantly, swallowing hard.
Claire put on a forced-looking smile. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to say good luck, or what,” she said with a slightly frenzied giggle. “I would tell you to break a leg, but-“
He smiled. “Only got one to break,” he returned in a whisper. “This isn’t a performance, Claire.”
Out of nowhere, a single tear ran down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, probably hoping he hadn’t noticed. He had. “I know,” she said, her voice catching. “I just...”
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
Since when was he the calm, sensible one? Wasn’t that her job?
She nodded, sniffling. “Yeah,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I’ll see you later. In recovery, if they let me. I’ll be waiting.”
“Okay,” he said, trying to reassure himself. He’d see her later. Either she would be waiting for him, in recovery... or he would be waiting for her, in a very different place.
Either way... it would be okay.
That was what he kept repeating to himself in the operating room, as the medications took effect, carrying him off into oblivion.
***
