“The results of your CT scan came back from the lab this morning, Nick,” the doctor said, pulling a black, filmy sheet out of the envelope.
“And?”
“They show what the x-ray showed, a fracture and a hole in your bone. But they’re not conclusive enough, so I want to do a biopsy on your leg later today.”
“A biopsy? Isn’t that... surgery?” Nick asked, heart pounding.
“Very, very minor surgery,” Dr. Kingsbury replied, stressing the word “minor.” “You’ll be put under anesthesia, but the procedure is very simple. We’ll just take a tiny sample of tissue from the bone in your leg for examination. Your leg will be a little sore for a couple days, but that’s all.”
“My leg’s sore anyway,” Nick muttered.
“Well,” said Dr. Kingsbury with a patient smile, “it won’t inconvenience you too much then.”
“So why do you have to do this biopsy anyway?”
“Like I said, the results of the CT scan were inconclusive.”
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“It means we need to do more tests, and a biopsy is an excellent diagnostic procedure.”
“Meaning you’ll know what’s going on with me after the biopsy? For sure?”
“Most likely.”
Nick sighed. “Well, what do you think you’re going to find? What do you think caused the hole in my bone?”
Dr. Kingsbury averted her gaze and answered slowly, “It could be any number of things; I’m not really sure at this point. That’s why I want the biopsy done.”
Narrowing his eyes at her, Nick had a feeling she wasn’t being one hundred percent honest with him. But, again, he did not press the issue. He would find out the truth soon enough.
***
Late that afternoon, Nick taken to the surgical floor for his biopsy. Having already been given a shot of something to relax him before surgery, Nick was surprisingly unafraid as he was wheeled on a gurney into the pre-op room, where he was visited by an anesthesiologist, who asked him a series of questions and then injected something into the IV line running into the back of Nick’s hand. It was not long before he began to feel very sleepy, and before he knew it, he was out.
When Nick woke up, he was in a totally different room. As he slowly became oriented, the first sensation he felt was pain. His lower left leg was throbbing, and his throat was sore too.
“How are you feeling, Nick?” an unfamiliar nurse asked, coming up to his bed.
“I guess okay,” Nick tried to say, but his voice came out hoarse and scratchy.
Seeing the bewildered expression cross his face, the nurse smiled and said, “The doctors put a tube down your throat during the surgery, which is why your throat is probably sore. Don’t worry though, it’ll be better by tomorrow.”
Nick nodded, not feeling like using his voice anymore right then. The nurse disappeared and returned carrying a glass of water with a straw in it, which she held to Nick’s lips and urged him to sip from. Then she took his temperature and blood pressure and went away to check on other patients. This process was repeated about every fifteen minutes for the next hour or so, and then Nick was rolled back to the privacy of his room.
As he was transferred to his hospital bed, Nick noticed a big, blue brace wrapped around his bad leg; still a little disoriented from the anesthesia, he had not realized it was there before. The thing was rather uncomfortable and bulky, but it made him feel less vulnerable, less cautious about his fractured leg. So he decided not to complain about it and instead turned on the TV and started flipping through the channels, trying to find something to distract him. He settled on Comedy Central, but as he looked up at the TV, he could feel his eyelids growing heavy as drowsiness overpowered him. Before long, he had drifted back to sleep.
***
When Nick awoke, he was surprised to find out that it was morning; he had slept over twelve hours straight. Feeling a little bit like Rip Van Winkle, he sat up in bed, tired of lying down. Wanting to get up and stretch his muscles a bit, he decided to go for a walk down the hall. Easing himself carefully out of his bed, he slid a slipper onto his right foot, ignoring the left one, and retrieved his crutches. Then he hobbled across the room. His movements were slower than usual; he was startled to find that just a few days of lying in bed had weakened him. Hoisting himself around on crutches seemed more strenuous than it had the day he had checked in to the hospital.
Because of this, his walk was a short one. He managed to make it down to the end of his hallway, where he promptly turned around and limped back, knowing he wouldn’t be able to go much further. He reached his room and climbed slowly back into his bed, his arms aching.
Just when he had got himself settled, an orderly came with his breakfast tray. The food looked rather unappetizing, as usual. Not that Nick was very hungry anyway. He hadn’t had much of an appetite throughout his hospital stay, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he had taken off a few more pounds in just those three days.
Pushing a mound of rubbery scrambled eggs around with his fork, Nick debated over whether he could manage a few bites or not. He decided he couldn’t and pushed his tray away, making a mental note to hit a McDonald’s as soon as he was released from the hospital.
After the orderly returned to collect his breakfast tray, Dr. Kingsbury arrived, carrying her familiar clipboard.
“Good morning, Nick,” she greeted him, but her lack of a smile and tone of voice told him it was not a good morning, not for her anyway.
“Hey, Dr. Kingsbury,” he said and flashed her one of his half-smiles, remembering that saying about how a smile can brighten someone’s day. Thinking Dr. Kingsbury was just stressed out about some other aspect of her job, he had no idea that he would soon need the smile himself.
“I have the results of your biopsy, Nick,” the doctor said, standing at his bedside and glancing down at her clipboard of papers.
“So, what did you find?” At that point, Nick was really more curious than concerned, not considering how serious the possibilities could be.
But then Dr. Kingsbury pursed her lips and looked at him in a way that made his heart flip-flop in his chest, and he knew, right then, that things were very wrong.
“The biopsy confirmed what the x-ray and CT scan hinted at. Nick, I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but...”
Nick’s heart beat loudly in his ears, and his whole body grew very cold, as if he had just plunged into a vat of icy water. Yet, despite all this, he couldn’t help but hear the rest of the doctor’s sentence, loud and clear.
“... you have cancer.”
***
