Ken Stir

“Are you coming tonight?” A voice from across the room yelled. “Mikey, are you coming tonight?”

Mike Morgan looked up from his station and saw a man, Ken Stir, wearing green surgical scrubs. Mike slunk down on his vinyl covered chair as Ken waved to him. Ignoring Mike’s attempt to go stealth, Ken navigated the busy room of the patients receiving their doses. Ken Stir, with his endearing smile, was a familiar face to the cancer treatment room. Ken sat at an empty seat next to Mike.

The treatment room smelled of bleach, burning electronics from overused medical devices, sterile gauze, fear and desperation. Mike was almost six months into his new fight with his old foe- exocrine cancer. He sat at his assigned bunker, a chemotherapy chair, struggling, failing with the newest offensive that was destined to consume him. It was his third attempt to thwart the enemy in a match of biological chess, but the opponent was always a few steps ahead. He took a deep breath trying to muster the energy to deal with Ken.

“What do you want Ken?” Mike asked.

Ken looked offended by Mike’s tone, but he understood.

“Mikey! How’s it going my BFF?” Ken asked. “Are you coming tonight? Or are you going to blow me off again? We have to go out eventually.”

Mike was embarrassed by Ken’s presence, but his pale looking neighbors paid no attention. 

Could he just give me a break for once? Mike pondered not wanting to talk to anyone, anymore.

“Are you coming tonight Mikey?”

“I wasn’t planning on it Ken.”

“Come on Mikey! It will be fun! I promise. You have been such a drag this time around. You’ve got to let go and have some fun baby! You deserve it!”

“You’re right Ken, I really deserve this! I should go out with you and have a good-old time! Whoop it up!” Mike said.

Ken smirked at his sarcastic best friend knowing that Mike wanted to hide from the world including him. Mike turned his bald head and bruised face away in an attempt to ignore Ken.

“This whole process made you such an introvert. Before all of this you were open and engaging. And when this happened again, you closed up. You’re my best friend because you were so open and outgoing than me. Now I’m the extrovert and you cower here in the dark. So, are you coming tonight?”

Mike sneered thinking about his outgoing personality as wasted energy. During his pre-cancer life, Mike’s charisma would intoxicate and command a room of people. Many friends thought Mike missed his calling as a comedian with his quick wit, but he was no longer that funny and outgoing person. Instead, he became a mental and physical emaciated man and his electric-magnetic personality became a casualty of the disease.

“Are you ok pal?” Ken asked. “You seem down today.”

“You tell me Ken. You’re more in the know of my status.”

Mike’s bones itched from the chemicals flowing through his reluctant veins. Mike felt a fever upon him as a cold sweat seeped and spread onto his hospital johnnie. Most of the patients wore their own clothes during the battle, but not Mike. The veteran knew it was best during the treatment to wear his combat gear, a thin linen, hospital issued johnnie with yellow smiley faces on it. It was best to have the johnnie get sopping wet.

“Mike where’s the chipper attitude?” Ken asked. “Is it under your chair?”

Mike was agitated with Ken’s visits. Ken looked around the room and saw the others sitting hooked to the liquid treatment. It disgusted Ken to see the patients poisoning themselves.

“I know your mouth is sore with the lesions, so I’ll do the talking. Here’s a fun tidbit, did you know that the first Chemotherapy treatment was done using mustard gas? Chemotherapy that word drives me crazy. Why is therapy part of the word Chemotherapy? There’s nothing therapeutic about it!”

Mike bowed his weary head not enthused by his friend. Ken focused on a young Woman and older Male sitting near each other. Both seemed to be teammates cheering each other on with small conversations. The young Woman was wearing a pink T-Shirt saying “Fighter.” Ken gave a grunting grimace.

“You can always pick out the newbies. Like those two over there. I love the Girl’s shirt, “Fighter!” Such a hard ass!” Ken said. “You have the young girl ready to take on the disease and the other one, the old guy, still in shock from the diagnosis. He’s sitting there wondering of the lost time he wasted. Maybe working late at the office did not reap the awards and accolades he was expecting. No one gets a medal for working hard. I’m sure his Wife and Kids are giving him verbal encouragement, “Do it for your grandkids!”

Ken chuckled elbowing Mike who was still bowing his head.

“Now back to the Girl, she’s young and thinks she’s tough enough for the fight and may very well be. We know, the old Guy and young Girl are new combatants to the war. What is funny about it is that, currently, they are in different stages of realization. Though after a few rounds, battles, they will be at the same place; tired, weary, and questioning this chemical warfare approach. They’ll realize that the pink worded shirts and their family’s words of encouragement will fade. All that will be left is their false bravado. Fighter, that word will wither as she does. They should seek your advice Mikey since you are a veteran of a couple of campaigns.”

“Yeah, I’m a purple heart recipient.” Mike said rolling his eyes in disgust.

“You're so sarcastic when I'm just genuinely concerned for you. Truly Mike I am.”

“Knock it off Ken! You don't give a shit about nothing except for one thing.”

“That's not true Mikey.” Ken whispered as he looked and smiled at the others, embarrassed by Mike’s outburst. “I'm doing all of this for you! What you forget is that I'm a part of you like your blood and bones. I'm a distinct instrument performing in your biological concert. It hurts me to see that you are distraught. All I wanted to do was help you. That’s why I am here. This is an intimate journey you and I are going through. We have been together since the day we were born. At first, I was the quiet one and you brought me out from hiding and gave me a voice. I’m just sorry it has silenced yours.”

“And I take it that you’ll be with me after I die?”

“Yes! Yes Mikey! Now you understand! That's how it works. Sure, you can try to shut me up and poison yourself to make me leave but, in the end, it only hurts you more. Your resistance and these foolish attempts to stop the inevitable, upsets me.”

Mike forced his pale cheeks into a shock expression.

“Ken, you're taking my resistance personally?”

“I do take it personally since I'm a part of you. I’m your body’s self-destruct program, it's just that I’m vocal when I decide to be. Now sure there are times when others chemically provoke me, and in a fit of rage, I start earlier than expected but that's ok. It’s like waking up someone early from sleep, and I’m not a morning person, but I get over it. Are you coming tonight?”

“Ken, you’re a lousy piece of-”

“Well Mike, you are such a selfish ingrate!”

“Me? You are the one that has caused all of this!”

Ken gave a calm smile as he patted Mike’s lap in a comforting way.

“You know there was a time when I was welcomed in society. Yeah, it’s true, you look shocked by that. In the past I was, for lack of a better phrase, a life saver. When a tribe had to hunt and feed to survive, the elders had physical limitations and were in the way.”

“I’m in the way?” Mike asked.

“Just let me finish my thought here. The hunting would suffer, and the tribe would starve from a lack of food. And that's where I would come in and take care of things. Save the day!”

“Saving the day by ruining lives.”

Ken looked around the room making sure the others were not listening. They were too busy in their misery to pay attention.

“I’m going to fill you in on a little secret Mikey.” Ken whispered leaning into Mike. “There is a cure for me, for many years now. But the Government, shush they are probably listening right now, doesn’t want you to have it. You see my good old friend; the cure to shut me up has always been there.”

“Government is involved?” Mike asked. The sick man wanted to laughed but stopped since he was feeling nauseous.

“Shit yeah dude. They even used the cure for themselves. When was the last time a politician, senator or congressman was diagnosed with me?”

Mike could not think of a politician that had died of Cancer in recent years.

“However, if I was officially cured, do you know what would happen to society? The economy would go down the shitter. People would be living even longer, sucking more money and benefits. That’s already happening, this would be more on top of that. Extrapolation of population beyond biblical proportions. And that’s what it is all about, population control, truly I jest you not.

Lots of medical and pharmaceutical businesses would vanish quicker than your, well, body weight. By the way how much do you weigh now? Never mind. The bottom line is that careers and corporations would be crushed. Even charities where all the self-serving phonies fundraising for a cause so they can run a marathon or take a long walk would suffer. All that goodwill would be gone if I’m gone. Look at the wig industry. Wig sales have boomed from these chemo-poison treatments.”

“Are you saying that all these people in this room are suffering because of profits?”

“Yeah Mike, I’m big business. If I leave, it would be a total cluster fuck to the economy. I do a tremendous service to you and all of mankind by keeping the numbers down. I’m just picking up where Mother Nature left off as God’s self-destruct code.”

“You are so misunderstood Ken Stir.”

Ken smiled as Mike closed his eyes and dozed off for a brief moment. The dying Man awakened after his body shuddered from the cold chills. Mike gasped turning to his side looking for Ken Stir, but all that remained was his indentations on the empty seat.

“Mikey.” Ken Stir whispered. “Are you coming tonight?”

“You win Ken Stir.” Mike mumbled.

“I eventually do. Does that mean you’re coming tonight?”

“Yes, but after tonight, I’m never going out with you again.”

THE END