Specter (9780307823403) Read Online Free
Author: Joan Lowery Nixon
crying.”
It helps a bit, but a nurse comes in, gets excited, and sends me back to bed.
“I don’t know what happened,” I tell her. “I guess I said the wrong thing.”
“She shouldn’t be upset,” the nurse tells me. She soothes Julie and wipes her nose and washes her face again.
I lie in bed watching some fat woman on the television screen jump up and down and beat on the master of ceremonies, and I wonder if she’ll have a heart attack with all that screaming. And I wonder what made Julie cry with so much desperation.
Were some of those tears for her mother and father? I’ve never seen anyone so panicked before, and it seems to me that it takes more than one problem to make someone explode like that. I can’t figure out why she doesn’t want to tell the policeabout Sikes if she’s afraid she’s going to be murdered. It doesn’t make sense.
The door bursts open, and a pair of orderlies fasten it against the wall. They rattle the cart to the side of Julie’s bed and lift her onto it. As they wheel her out of the room, she holds out a hand toward me. Her eyes are pleading.
“I’ll be here when you get back, Julie,” I tell her.
They release the door, but it does a double flutter as Dr. Hector Cruz comes in, stepping out of the way of the cart. He’s a quiet man, with not much hair on top and a nose that looks as though it had been in a lot of rough football games. He perches stoop-shouldered on the side of my bed and smiles at me.
“I know better than to ask how you’re feeling,” he says. “Last time I asked, your answer went on for five minutes.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Sometimes I get angry.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being angry. It’s a human emotion. It’s what you do with the anger that counts.”
“Sometimes feeling angry is the only thing that helps,” I answer. But at the same time I remember Dr. Lynn telling me how people can cling to their anger because they’re afraid to leave it and take the next step.
“Let’s talk about remission,” he says in his calm way. “I don’t think you really understand it.”
I stuff a pillow against the painted headboard of the bed and wedge myself against it, pulling myknees up under the bedspread and wrapping my arms around them.
Dr. Cruz waits until I’ve settled down and says, “If you understand remission, you might feel better about what is happening to you. You’ve responded very well to treatment, and we feel your disease is in remission. That means during a certain period the disease will not progress. How long the period will last we can’t say, but we have hopes it will be for a number of years.”
“And after that? We’re back to zero. Right?”
“We’re back to more treatment, and a hopeful chance for another remission.” He takes my hand and looks at me earnestly. “Dina, the scientists who are working so hard to discover a cure might—”
I interrupt. “They’ve been working to find a cure for cancer for a hundred years!”
“There are many forms of cancer. Hodgkin’s disease has its own characteristics, and there has been great progress made in moving toward a cure. There are many people living active lives with the disease in remission, who wouldn’t have been able to do so years ago.”
“You sound like a textbook.”
“I’m offering you the facts.”
“You’re offering me wishful thinking.”
“I’m offering you hope.”
“Same thing.”
He sits there rubbing his chin. Finally he says, “Doctors have found that a patient’s attitude canmean a great deal of difference in whether he’s cured or whether he dies from a serious disease.”
Another woman is screaming on the television. Another winner. Mornings full, days full, weeks full of winners. Who cares? I snap the off button and blot her out as though she never existed.
“Please don’t talk to me about my attitude, Dr. Cruz.” I try to keep my voice quiet and calm to match his. “I had a whole life ahead of
It helps a bit, but a nurse comes in, gets excited, and sends me back to bed.
“I don’t know what happened,” I tell her. “I guess I said the wrong thing.”
“She shouldn’t be upset,” the nurse tells me. She soothes Julie and wipes her nose and washes her face again.
I lie in bed watching some fat woman on the television screen jump up and down and beat on the master of ceremonies, and I wonder if she’ll have a heart attack with all that screaming. And I wonder what made Julie cry with so much desperation.
Were some of those tears for her mother and father? I’ve never seen anyone so panicked before, and it seems to me that it takes more than one problem to make someone explode like that. I can’t figure out why she doesn’t want to tell the policeabout Sikes if she’s afraid she’s going to be murdered. It doesn’t make sense.
The door bursts open, and a pair of orderlies fasten it against the wall. They rattle the cart to the side of Julie’s bed and lift her onto it. As they wheel her out of the room, she holds out a hand toward me. Her eyes are pleading.
“I’ll be here when you get back, Julie,” I tell her.
They release the door, but it does a double flutter as Dr. Hector Cruz comes in, stepping out of the way of the cart. He’s a quiet man, with not much hair on top and a nose that looks as though it had been in a lot of rough football games. He perches stoop-shouldered on the side of my bed and smiles at me.
“I know better than to ask how you’re feeling,” he says. “Last time I asked, your answer went on for five minutes.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Sometimes I get angry.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being angry. It’s a human emotion. It’s what you do with the anger that counts.”
“Sometimes feeling angry is the only thing that helps,” I answer. But at the same time I remember Dr. Lynn telling me how people can cling to their anger because they’re afraid to leave it and take the next step.
“Let’s talk about remission,” he says in his calm way. “I don’t think you really understand it.”
I stuff a pillow against the painted headboard of the bed and wedge myself against it, pulling myknees up under the bedspread and wrapping my arms around them.
Dr. Cruz waits until I’ve settled down and says, “If you understand remission, you might feel better about what is happening to you. You’ve responded very well to treatment, and we feel your disease is in remission. That means during a certain period the disease will not progress. How long the period will last we can’t say, but we have hopes it will be for a number of years.”
“And after that? We’re back to zero. Right?”
“We’re back to more treatment, and a hopeful chance for another remission.” He takes my hand and looks at me earnestly. “Dina, the scientists who are working so hard to discover a cure might—”
I interrupt. “They’ve been working to find a cure for cancer for a hundred years!”
“There are many forms of cancer. Hodgkin’s disease has its own characteristics, and there has been great progress made in moving toward a cure. There are many people living active lives with the disease in remission, who wouldn’t have been able to do so years ago.”
“You sound like a textbook.”
“I’m offering you the facts.”
“You’re offering me wishful thinking.”
“I’m offering you hope.”
“Same thing.”
He sits there rubbing his chin. Finally he says, “Doctors have found that a patient’s attitude canmean a great deal of difference in whether he’s cured or whether he dies from a serious disease.”
Another woman is screaming on the television. Another winner. Mornings full, days full, weeks full of winners. Who cares? I snap the off button and blot her out as though she never existed.
“Please don’t talk to me about my attitude, Dr. Cruz.” I try to keep my voice quiet and calm to match his. “I had a whole life ahead of
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