Dare to live 4(5)

 

 

"We are blessed with two guests tonight," the priest announced to his mother when the elderly woman appeared in a doorway.

 

 

Note to readers. This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… We will circle back to it…

 

 

My appearance didn’t change much. I looked almost the same as a few months ago. I was skinny and bald with only a thin fuzz on my head.

I was taking painkillers. To be more precise I was given painkillers. Dad was giving me IV shots twice a day. After almost two weeks, he inserted a catheter into my left arm. Without a catheter, I would shortly look like a drug addict with ruined veins. This way, he was able to give me my meds via the same tube without having to stab my arm each time.

Painkillers made me feel dizzy. I had nausea from the last round of chemo. The chemo was finished months ago but the nausea didn’t go. It wasn’t the same but it was here to make my life more miserable than it could be without constant sickness.

A calendar on a wall in my room probably wasn’t the smartest idea. But I could see how much time I had. I was convinced I will live till Independence Day. Not less. I hung that calendar on Fools' Day. And marked my wellness as one hundred percent that first day. It wasn’t the same as it was half a year ago. It was maybe only some twenty percent of what I felt when I started ninth grade. But I started with one hundred now. Though it wasn’t the day I got to know bad news or the day I came home. Anyway, it was like it was.

We had been home for a few weeks when Audra got a call from Dr. Brody. The same doctor who cured me. He asked her and me to come to the hospital in Boston the next day. That day I marked my wellness as ten. The calendar on the wall in my room reminded me not about how little time I had. It showed how long I will suffer.

"Do we have to go?" I asked when we were at home for dinner.

My question wasn’t rhetorical. I really wasn’t sure if we had to fight any longer.

"Just give it a try," dad said.

"We want our son back," mom added.

Audra opened her mouth to say something but then she decided otherwise. I knew what it was about. She always stressed the idea I was a girl, a daughter, a sister. But… No matter how my parents called me, I will come to the same point two months from now.

"Please…" Audra said instead.

 

 

"She’s defeated," Audra said to Dr. Brody the next morning when we, at last, got to Boston after two stops because of my nausea.

I was. It was my way to accept what was inevitable.

"There is still hope," Doc said.

"I don't have the strength to fight anymore," I replied. My tone was tired and flat.

"Do you have a headache?" Doc asked instead.

"No…"

"Is your pain located in your legs, abdomen, stomach, chest, neck, and arms?"

"Ends in the lower chest," I said.

"It means your head isn’t affected yet. Most probably your heart is free of tumors too. You are suitable for a new experimental method then," Doc said. "If only you’ll agree…"

"We agree," Audra interfered.

"I need Lina’s consent," Doc said.

"Is it painful?"

"I would guess no," he replied.

"Ok then. What do I have to do?"

"Here is the address," Dr. Brody said handing a card to Audra. "It’s a hospice in Kersey, Pennsylvania. Five hundred miles from here. You will need to be there tonight or tomorrow morning. I have called them already. They are waiting for you." He had obviously assumed that I would agree to the treatment.

 

 

Before we left, I was given another painkiller. It was named ‘milk shake’ and it looked like one. This new thing worked twelve hours instead of four and it acted a little different – I didn’t have nausea.

Audra called dad to say we were moving to Pennsylvania. Then she called her uni, I heard only one side of the conversation. Audra wasn’t a student there. Not anymore. Because of me.

We got into Audra’s car and I dozed out shortly, the first time since I was a kid. I didn’t see how Audra maneuvered on the highways around Boston.

I awakened three hours later and we were out of Boston at last.

"I’ve got stuck in a jam for two hours," Audra said.

"I guess we’ll need to look for a night stay," I offered.

"Yeah… Our destination is far from the highway and I don’t know the territory. Maybe it would be wise to not look for it in the dark."

"So…," I started but then I got reluctant to finish the sentence.

"What? Don’t be afraid. Say, what," Audra urged me.

"I want to go to church…" I said.

"What about OUR church?" she wondered.

Our church was St. Louis church in Portland. All of us kids were christened there, then we received our first Holy Communion and then I started as an altar boy there with Rev. Walter O'Donnell.

"I was at our church a month ago," I replied.

"And…?" Audra waited for me to continue.

"I met with Father Walter and…"

"You mean Rev O'Daniel?"

"O'Donnell," I corrected her.

"Ah… Yeah… I remember him as the most progressive catholic priest not only in our parish," she said.

"I thought the same way about him," I agreed. "I knew him personally. He taught me how to be an altar boy. Together with other boys. I met him and he said he was ok with me being castrated but my wish to deceive the Lord into becoming a girl was unforgivable."

"How…? And who told…?" Audra fumed.

"Dunno…"

"But you got an absolution?" she asked.

"No. Not even a blessing…"

"Crap…" she muttered.

"Audra…" I whispered.

"What?"

"I’m scared… What if Father Walter is right?" I think that scared me more than the end result of my cancer.

 

 

We rode in silence. I mean without music in the background. Neither Audra nor I liked the music on the radio. Audra had her own favorites on her smartphone but she didn’t want to disturb me. Until I asked a couple of hours later to put something on. Because silence was even worse than the bad music.

It was Santana. Carlos Santana. Audra said so. I didn’t know him. The music was strange. It was so strange I couldn’t even say how what it sounded. But it was good.

The time was something about six-ish when we exited the highway. Roads were getting narrower and narrower. We were passing towns and villages and some of them were only four or five houses but had their own town sign. Some towns had churches and others had none. Mostly non-Catholic churches. I was reading their signs.

We were passing one of such towns and there was the catholic St Bartholomew’s church. The church was brick plastered building. Other churches we had passed were wooden mostly. A half of the building was scaffolded but the door was open.

Audra stopped her car and I entered the church. I crossed myself by entering it and then started looking for the priest.

"At your service," said somebody from behind me.

I turned around and there was an old man in civilian clothes, not in a cassock and without even a clergy collar.

"I am Father Rudolf," he introduced, "we have some repairs going on here so please excuse my civilian attire."

"I want to confess," I said simply.

"Only in private," the priest replied, "our confessional is disassembled."

I followed him into the vestry. There I knelt down and said, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession but I didn’t get an absolution."

"Sit at my side," father Rudolf ordered, "I feel the pain of you kneeling down."

I sat at his side on the same bench.

"I have to confess too before we go further. Maybe you'll decide to have nothing to do with me when you find out about my deadly sin."

"What…?"

"I say I have committed a deadly sin this morning," he said calmly. "I had cereal this morning and a cup of coffee."

"What…?"

"I say I have this morning eaten something that isn’t in scripture and thus I’m deserving damnation," he said with a smirk. "Believe me, you being born a boy and now being a girl is nothing compared to my deed."

"How do you know?" I asked. I meant how did he know I was born a boy? I was wearing leggings because they were softer and thus more comfortable for long rides. In leggings, even with my bald head, I looked like a girl.

"You removed your cap entering the church before crossing yourself," the priest said.

"But…," I was about to say that Father O’Donnell was of a different opinion and even refused to bless me.

"To err is human," the priest interrupted me. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, and you don’t need to know anything more about Christianity."

How could it be true? It was the opposite of what my priest in Portland had said.

"Do you know you are musing aloud?" Father Rudolf asked.

"Oh…!" my hand shot up to cover my mouth.

"Nothing to worry about," he said with a chuckle, "you don’t curse."

Then after the pause he asked, "So where are you heading?"

"Kersey…"

"I know that place. Not too far away. But not so close to going now. Would you accept my invitation to stay at my place for the night?"

"Huh?" It was unexpected. I couldn’t speak for Audra.

"Ask your friend," the priest offered.

"She’s my sister."

"Ask your sister then. Tell her there will be a service in the morning. Jesus will come too."

"What?"

"For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them."

"Oh… I’m sorry. I have forgotten. I’m sorry," I mumbled.

"Don’t be. You have more important things to think about. By the way… Would you like communion and anointing before leaving? I know you would, but I have to hear you asking."

"Oh… Sure I would like… How do you know?"

"I know Kersey. The place is maybe six houses nowadays. One of those houses is the hospice."

 

 

"Mother! I’m home!" Father Rudolf shouted when he entered his home followed by Audra and me. He was a more regular human than any priest I knew before. He lived in his house. The house was built by his father, a former teacher at a local elementary school. And he lived with his mother.

"We are blessed with two guests tonight," he announced to his mother when the elderly woman appeared in a doorway.

I almost expected discontent and grumbling. But the priest’s mom just clapped her hands, "What luck!"

Audra and I helped her in the kitchen. Well, not me. I was sitting on a chair. I was no help lately. And then it dawned on me – it was a gift.

It was a gift to meet Father Rudolf and his mother. Simple and sincere people. Not naïve bumpkins. Those few hours with them were more valuable than the rest of my anticipation of the unavoidable end.

 

 

The next morning started with a service at St Bartholomew’s. Audra and I were given almost transparent silky headscarves to cover our heads. Not that it was required. It was Father Rudolf’s mom’s gift.

"Do not be ashamed of who you are," she said, "it’s the Lord’s gift to be a lady."

The service was short. Only Audra, the priest’s mother, and I were present. Sacristan Vince was helping at the altar.

We were given communion and I got an anointing. I was ready to leave.

 

 

Two hours later we reached Kersey. Not a big town. Even as a village, it was rather small. The hospice was the former sanatorium that had been there. Monks, Franciscans, were helping there. Next to the hospice was a cemetery. Kind of a depressing picture.

We were met by Dr. Ram. He looked like Indian or Pakistani.

"I have studied your file, everything Dr. Brody had sent to me," he started. "You are a good candidate for the program. But you have to understand that I can’t guarantee the success."

"I know," I said while Audra put her hand on my shoulder assuring me.

"We will give you medicine that helps your body recognize the cancer cells as intrusive. They are called immunomodulators. Another medicine will help to raise your body’s temperature because cancer cells don’t like heat. If the process goes as planned, we’ll put you in a coma to prevent your brain from overheating."

"And then?" I asked.

"When your body is finished with fighting the cancer cells the temperature drops down and we return you to normalcy."

"What might go wrong?" Audra asked.

"The immunomodulatory treatment may not work. Sometimes it happens. There may be no response to the pyrogenic medicine, the one that raises body temperature. Heart failure is a high risk because of overheating. At last, you may not come out of the coma. Those are the most common cases."

"What is the chance of success?" my sis inquired.

"One out of three," Dr Ram replied.

The chances the doc gave me were not the best, but it was the only chance I was being given. I had to go through with it.
--

I started getting cold. Then I was getting hot after that. Then the world went dark. Then the light was back and I was in my old school. It’s South Portland High. I went down the corridor to the shop class. The school was empty. Rather the corridors were empty. There was a distant sound of kids talking and laughing.

I came to the shop class and opened its door. The door opened into the gym instead. I knew it was the gym though it was much bigger. It was filled with goats and sheep in square formations. Like the army. At the side of each goat and sheep were standing men in white attire.

Then, as if on command, the men in the first rows slit the throats of the sheep and goats and the blood poured onto the floor. But there was no blood on the floor. Killed animals fell down but they weren’t dead. They all stared at me. I was horrified. I wanted to turn away. No matter which way I turned, there were goats and sheep with their throats slit everywhere. They all looked into my eyes. I wanted to run away, but the wild animals grabbed my legs. They had claws instead of hooves.

Then the animals on the second row were killed all simultaneously as if on command. Animals still alive were gripped by terror. The killed were mute. But those killed still moved a little. They turned their heads to look me in my eyes. Or tried to grab me while I was escaping the gym.

The gym was enormous. I couldn’t find the exit. At last, I found the door and reached for its handle. I yanked the door open and was now in our church’s vestry and Father O’Donnell was there. He turned to face me grimacing.

"Coward," he spat through gritted teeth.

At this moment it dawned on me that I was dreaming. It wasn’t real. The gym was scary anyway. But I had to come back. To come back to stop the slaughter.

I opened the door and immediately I was back in the gym. I wasn’t a bystander anymore. I was one of the goats. The man was at my side his one hand on my shoulder. It felt warm and strong. The same as dad’s hand just before my first surgery. The hand pushed me down on my knees and I felt the cold of the blade on my throat. Then a sharp pain and I couldn’t breathe anymore. I was an observer again and was staring into my own dying eyes.

Everything disappeared. There was no pain. No sound. No light though it wasn’t dark. Dusk. There was a light on my left. I turned my eyes to it.

"Oh…!" I heard somebody saying.

My eyes were still closed. I opened first the right one. The light was brighter. Too bright to look at it. I turned my head to the right and opened both eyes this time. Audra and dad were here.

"You are back," dad said and I saw a tear running down his cheek.

Audra said nothing. She buried her face in the blanket over me and cried… and cried…

 

 

I was left in hospice to regain my strength. Not the best place to stay but I was too weak to move. It was two weeks later before I could get out of bed.

"You have the very special Dad, young lady," Dr. Ram said a day before my departure. "He insisted on keeping you alive when you were dead and I was ready to give up."

I had been told that I had actually died twice while I was in the coma. But Dad had made sure that the doctor knew to bring me back if something happened to me. He had arrived at the hospice the day after the doc started the procedure. I was already in my coma by then.

We left four weeks after my awakening. It was the end of June. Couldn't arrange it otherwise, but we left only in the afternoon after arranging all the documents and saying goodbye to the staff.

Dad had left his car for mom so we rode Audra’s car again. Audra opted to sit in the cramped back seat.

On our way back, we stopped at St Bartholomew. The church's repaint wasn’t finished yet. The church was empty. As empty was Father Rudolf’s house. Strolling around we met sacristan Vince.

"Father Rudolf has gone," he said. "He passed away during the service at his mother’s funeral. Both mother and son left us in a single week. It happened shortly after you’d left."

We asked about a motel or some other accommodation nearby. It was already late and the road was narrow and curvy on hilly woodland. The territory was known as a state game forest.

"You’ll stay at my place," Vince rather stated than offered.

That night, I prayed. I would have gone to the church to pray, but I knew that I did not need to. I knew that the Lord would hear my prayers wherever I was. I thanked the Lord for the help I received while I was in my coma. I thanked Him for my dad and my dad's faith. I thanked Him for my sis and her willingless to stop her life and help me. I thanked Him for Father Rudolf and his mother and the compassion they had shown us. I asked Him to bless them all.

 

 

We were up before down the next morning. Dad wanted to get home before rush hour traffic. I insisted on visiting Father Rudolf’s grave before leaving though. The graveyard was two miles from the village on our way home. We just needed to make a literally five-minute stop. On the side road behind the hill, there was the cemetery. A mist was rising against the distant mountains, while tiny stars lit up the graveyard.

"Majestic!" Audra said.

"Fireflies mating," dad explained.

I said a prayer for Father Rudolf and his mother. I guessed dad and Audra said their prayers too.

"Let’s go home, girls," dad said climbing into the car.

 

 

To be continued