The Prognosis

“Left, Left. Left. Left”, I sigh in an annoyed tone as I swipe through Love. Nobody on these dating apps seem genuine. Most don’t even look like real people through all the photoshop and filters. I am interrupted by my regular oncologist Dr. Victoria Cunnings entering the room. She is wearing the same facial expression she has been for the last month since I relapsed from remission. “Judging by your expression I am going to have to delete cancer survivor from my Love bio aren't I” I chuckle, trying to keep the mood light which always makes her smirk regardless of the prognosis. However this time was different, she just looked distraught. My stomach turned which is a strange feeling to someone who in the last nine years has been told they had cancer three times. 

“Daniel.. I got your scans back and I-” she stops, I smile in reassurance to her. It can't be much easier to tell people everyday they are going to die than to be the one hearing it. I take a deep breath and ask, “I’m not gonna make it this time? Am I?”. She looks down at her feet trying to hide the glaze in her eyes, “Fuck.” 

Me and Dr. Cunnings are the same age give or take a few months and she has been with me since my diagnosis. In fact before her reading my labs I had never given my pancreas much thought, until she told me it was trying to kill me. She was an angel and the grim reaper rolled into one beautiful slim, brown eyed woman with a medical degree. Her and I are very similar in the sense that we both use humor to cope with the setbacks of life. We get along flawlessly, we have a relationship that surpasses patient and provider and feels more like a friendship. Some days I even look forward to getting my veins blasted with poison, the reason being Dr. Cunnings will be there, and I can focus on her instead of my stomach filling with bile. 

The glass doors of the hospital open as I begin to exit, the smell of sanitizer disipates behind me and is replaced with crisp autumn air. “I can't believe I’ll be gone before the leaves grow back. Hows that for melancholy” I say to myself while I walk to my car observing my surroundings. I get into the car slamming the door and throwing my hands over my head letting my fingers intertwine behind the head rest. I think any level headed person who was just told they have a month to live at most would be wallowing in despondency, however in this moment I am fuming with uncontrollable rage. Before I can even think my fist meets the the drivers side window covering me in shards of glass and a hand full of cuts and shreds. 

When I get home I immediately go to my desk and shuffle through drawers uncovering my binder of medical papers stuffed with labwork descriptions, diagnoses, treatment plans, and so on, that I have been collecting over the years. I guess this will be the last document added until my death certificate. I sit on the couch lost in my own mind, which is eerily silent, or maybe it is just so loud and overcrowded every thought is drowned out. I think to ring my mom but I know she is busy and honestly I need to prepare myself for her cries echoing through the house when I tell her she has to tell her only kid goodbye instead of “see you later”. 

Cough!, Cough!

I look down at my hand after my violent morning hack to see it is painted with scarlet-covered spots. I wince with disgust and go to wash the fluid from my person and rinse my mouth in the bathroom sink. I used to be fair toned, with a height of six feet one, weighing in at around a hundred and eighty pounds, and decently attractive not in a cocky way. However now my skin and eyes are tinted yellow and my cheek bones are heavily prominent since I lost so much weight. As I let the hot water drain over my hands I gaze at my reflection, and realize I am staring death in the face, and death looks fucking rough. 

My phone begins buzzing in my pocket the caller ID flashing “Mother”, I was not personally ready to deal with this yet,  but I genuinely do not have time to put this conversation off. 

“Hi, mom” I answer.

“Hi honey, how was the appointment? No news I suppose since you didn’t bother to call yesterday” she responds.

“Um- yeah, are you able to come over for lunch? We can order from that one restaurant you like”, I say quickly in hopes of avoiding any further medical related questions.I didnt want to blurt that i'm currently neck deep in my own grave over the telephone.

“Yeah dear, I have to make a quick stop at the bank and then i’ll head right on over” she says before abruptly ending the call. 

Theres a knock on the door followed by immediate keys jingling about in the lock of my front door. That woman has no patience, a well person could not have stood up and answered quick enough before she was already standing in my front hall. 

“Hi Darling”, she says throwing her arms around me.

I reciprocate the hug and guide her through the house and into the livingroom. She has already begun filling me in on her work drama, and my fathers fishing tournament. Her voice gets lost in the discomfort i am feeling.

“Mom, I have got to talk to you about my appointment”, I say steering clear of any kind of eye contact. 

Her eyes widen and her smile drops into a concerned look, while tears start to pack under her lashes. I havent even had the chance to say anything and I can already see the breakdown beginning.

“Yes?” asks.

“The cancer is much more aggressive this time, it is spreading at a rate so fast the doctors can no longer do anything about it-” I pause then continue, “It's gotten to my liver and now my lungs and-”

This time she stops me resting her hand on my arm, I didnt even realize she had gotten so close to me. She takes a deep breath and lunges burying her face in the divot of my neck squeezing me tightly. 

“How long?” she asks this in a tone filled with grief as if I am already gone, while still trying her best to hold it together. 

I walk into the hospital for the last time, well the last time i'm not stuffed into a body bag. My eyes dart to the nurse’s station where I see Victoria picking up a chart before heading into another patients room. I go to the reception desk and sign in then wait while they assign me a room. I swear this place gets more bleak everytime I come. Maybe it's the tumors talking but I am in a shit mood and everything surrounding me is pissing me off even more. 

I am sitting in the chair parallel to the hospital bed. It's not worth sitting on the uncomfortable padded table since it has already been established there is no more trying only dying. My familar entered the room, and I suddenly felt at ease regardless of the pain in my abdomen, ache in my body, and blood soaked coughs ejecting from my throat. I smile at her, “Hey Doc, I know this is my last visit but I don't want this to be a sad moment. It's the end of an era lets celebrate” I say. Dr. Victoria grins back at me, “Only you Daniel can make something that should be depressing feel relaxing”. 

“I have a question” I say in an unsure tone.

“Is this medical? Or are we pushing boundaries today?” she asks with a smirk across her face that could easily be mistaken as seduction.

“When have I ever followed that statement with a medical question?” I chuckle nervously.

“Thats true”, she says, “shoot”.

“Since youre not technically my doctor anymore at least after this visit, would you be interested in a celebration of life?” I ask nearly shaking with anxiety at the possible negative response.

“Are you inviting me to your funeral?” she asks slightly concerned.

At this point I burst out laughing, “No i meant get a drink or dinner perhaps, to celebrate our journey coming to an end you morbid fuck” I say still cracking up. She nods which invites me to do somewhat of an air fist bump with god.

I circle Wednesday which is two days out with a heart in my calendar like a teenager going on a first date. The excitement is pounding in my ears and my palms have been sweating since I left the office yesterday. I was on the phone with my friend talking about her like an obsessed school girl, and at one point i referred to myself as a make a wish kid, her being my wish. That sentence made my buddy on the line howl. Something about her was just mind boggling much more than outer beauty. It was deeper than that it was a connection I have never felt before. It was anxiety and ecstasy all at once. 

The clock struck nearly ten p.m. and my eyes focused in on the bar door waiting for him to walk through. I got here early because after all these years of playing doctor and treating Daniel I had secretly hoped he would recover or I would be fired in order to have a chance to see him outside of the dismal setting we always found each other in. The time seemed to go by slowly while I anticipated his arrival my heart beating louder with every passing minute. A half an hour later I decided to phone him to make sure I was at the correct establishment.

Ring, Ring

I hear my call being answered. 

“Daniel, I feel like such an idiot, I’m at the Dock and it's half past t-” I am cut off.

A muffled woman’s voice comes through the speaker, “Is this Victoria? I am so sorry to have to be the one to tell you this.” My fingers release on their own and my phone hits the ground my body joins as I collapse.