Chapter Summary: Rodney wakes up, or does he.

Posted: Sat. May 24, 2014 Author: GlassesG33k

Special Thanks: TT, or TactlessTruth for all of her help. :-)

A/N: I just want to say there is such a thing as being allergic to Aspirin and Tylenol. I am and my Dad is. Sadly, I'm also highly allergic to Cannabis /Marijuana, Pot, you know.
Yeah. Genes are great.

So really this has some facts in it, interesting huh. :-)

By the way, there are two websites that I gleamed parts of this chapter from, if you read them you'll see how I incorporated them into this bit of the story.

One is something vitally important and I WISH people had had the curtsey to well, not say the stuff to me that they have. *Steams!* =-(!

Don't Say This to a Cancer Patient

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dan-duffy/what-not-to-say-to-a-canc_b_3578732.html

“Info.” I based this chapter on

http://www.sciencebasedmedicine.org/chemotherapy-versus-death-from-cancer/

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Rodney sat, staring at the little piece of paper in his hand. …

“Now you're sure about this.” A Scottish accent cut through his mind.

Rodney blinked, his sight going wavy; he rubbed his itchy stinging eyes. To say the day had not gone well was an understatement. Instead of being able to get an appointment immediately he'd been forced to take any cancellations that might open up. So instead of going straight to the quack's office he'd decided to go ahead and try doing something useful with his day, which meant going to work.

The second he'd gotten in he'd been called to his bosses office and more or less fired. Apparently it was irresponsible of him to order a large amount of expensive items then bugger off and not even answer his phone, as if Rodney didn't know that.

“I believe Zelinka even tried-went over to your place.” He leaned back in his chair seeming to have the upper hand now.

“Yeah well.” Rodney looked off to the side, his mind racing to come up with an appropriate answer.

It had been a tricky and mind bending fight, it was finally at the point where Rodney knew he'd lost that he popped.

“YOU KNOW WHAT!?” Rodney jumped to his feet, “you wanna fire me for having cancer FINE!” he poked his chest.

His boss feigned surprise and shock.

“YOU KNOW IT! EVERYNE KOWS IT!” Rodney ripped his hand through the air to encompass the whole of the school, “DON'T SIT THERE LYING!”
“Lying I'm not-”
“YOU KNEW IT ALL ALONG! YOU'D NEVER APPROVE OF MY SCHEDULE IF YOU WERE IGNORANT! THE LOOK ON YOUR FACE-THE LOOK ON YOUR FACE-YOU CAN'T EVEN LIE! And If You Wanna Fire Me Cause I'm A CORPSE!” he shook livid, “Then go ahead! I'll drag this whole damn institution to hell! And speaking of hell...” he'd gone off there, letting the shit hole know what was wrong with the place and all the items the boss was falling down on the job on.

Of course the guy denied it, blamed most of it on him and who ever else he could, then called security or must have, who knows.

All Rodney knew or cared was that when he was done he turned to leave and there were two campus security guards at the door to escort him off the premises.

Rodney huffed out a half sob and curled in on himself, he now sat in his oncologists office being told to continue with a treatment that was killing him and not even allowed the relief of effective pain killers.

Interesting how it all ends.

The ex-professor winced, he hated it when people used that term, he knew by now though that it was used when someone was getting annoyed and was wanting to be rid of him. He heard the wheels of the doctors chair along the rug, the quac-doctors khaki clad knees came into his peripheral vision. Carson was a man who'd he become fast friends with and found that for the first time in his life, maybe because he was truly at the end of his life, and therefore rope, he trusted the damn guy.

“I know that you're concerned with the mix of chemicals and prolonged effects but-”
“Am I getting better,” Rodney uncurled lifting his head. He sat up and crossed his arms despite how much it nearly killed him. His world whited out but he fought on, not caring that even touching his own skin was like frigid fire, his very pores igniting in searing pain. And this was on top of the overall full body ache he had from the stiff and unmoving muscles, a gift from two days before.

His skin was tender and he could feel the layers underneath the peritoneum or whatever it was 'Carson the Quack' as Rodney was now starting to think of him in his mind, had called it. Apparently the overall membrane that held his skin onto his muscles was slightly inflamed and would get a bit worse before it got better. Rodney had been told to watch it closely and that it was going to take on a bit of fluid. He'd been ordered to come back if anything changed, right now at this point he was wondering if it had all been worth it, the chemo and passing out from weakness and pain.

“Carson do you know what it's like to rupture your esophagus from vomiting? Do you know what it's like to puke up blood and heave so damn hard you can feel your stomach move within you? It damn Jumps up your throat!? You don't! You don't know what pain I'm in!”

The room went eerily silent, as if he'd just trespassed committing a social taboo, something Rodney constantly did but never knew why or how he misspoke when he did such things.

For whatever reason he became angry about the idea of not being allowed the room to screw up.

“Don't. … Just Don't.”

Rodney could feel Carson lean back and stare as if he were mental, it bit right through him.

“Rodney you march in here, demand to see me. My poor secretary goes and makes room which mind you wasn't easy.” Carson shook his finger admonishing, “you demand me to give you pain pills that you can take and then tell me your cutting off your treatment. Now what in the world.”
“I have no money Carson-”
“You do too. Your insurance-” “not anymore.” Rodney mumbled. “-may be givin' ye' trouble but I can fix that.” Carson said.

“Not anymore.” Rodney said.

“What?”

“Carson I'm not getting better-”
“Yes ye' are. Incrementally.” Carson said.
Rodney scoffed and wiped his face; then rolled his eyes and looked to the ceiling.

“It's gradual but there's clear indication that you're getting better,” Carson looked over the charts in his lap.

“So I'm getting better.”

“Aye. An' stopping treatment now would only cause ye' to relapse. The disease would grow exponentially-you wouldn't have six months if ye' stop treatment now.” Carson lifted and dropped his shoulders, he was begging as if he were at the end of his rope.

Rodney looked down at him, if he was going to ask this then now would be the time. “Carson … I'm wondering-*ahem!*” he cleared his throat and sat up, “I'm wondering what you're thoughts on Medical Marijuana are, do you have any kind of medi-scientifically tested knowledge about it.”
“Yes I do.” Carson rolled backwards so he could lean against the far wall. He crossed his arms and glared at Rodney for a good long beat …/, or three. The answer was clear.

“Listen! I'm just wondering what you think of Cannabis for ah” Rodney looked off to the side, cleared his throat again.

“Cannabis for what Rodney,” Carson clicked his pen. Rodney could feel the man's eyes boring into him.

“For ...” Rodney waved his hand. “Well since I can't!” He noticed that he was starting to shake, the whole damn day had been far to long, far to hard on him. That was why he was such a mess right now, running on below empty, no meat on his bones to even keep himself upright any longer. His physical condition was why he was shaking right now, he told himself, that was all. “I can't take regular pain medications, you know that! So I was wondering if the medical community has any kind of knowledge yet in the area of-”
“Rodney.” Carson sighed and slapped the files down on the counter next to him, he rubbed his brow … then rolled close. “I've known you for a good two years now and I can tell somethin' buggin' ye'.”
“Yes! I'm in pain!” Rodney waved his hands.

Rodney looked away, he hated that deep searching stare of Carson's, it gave him the shivers!

“You'll feel better then you are now undergoing the chemo, but this'll only last for a while. And yes, the cancer might shrink,”

Rodney looked into Carson's eyes.

“This can happen.”

“But with mine-my cancer -” Rodney said.

“It more then likely will, but once the chemotherapy course is done,” Carson rolled back his voice going into what Rodney knew all to well, rote recitation of learned facts, teacher mode as he called it. “the patient does feel better because the cancer is no longer causing secondary symptoms and like dominoes the other symptoms being caused by the secondary symptoms are also relieved.”

Rodney hated teacher mode, there was no true learning, no true imagination, no brain power involved. Carson hadn't figured out how or why any of it worked or seemed to care, he was too busy reacting, not thinking and planning a … Rodney searched for the word but couldn't find it, the closest he got was a power plan.

“It's true that more chemo-treatments will make you feel lousy again for a short time. Unfortunately, the additional therapy is necessary to maximize the chance of cure. Disease frequently relapses without additional courses of treatment. Science and clinical trials have told us that.”

Rodney shook his head.

Carson caught his eye and looked right into him, Rodney had the great need to punch the son-of-a-bitch …

Rodney looked away.

“Many now dead patients are proof, an anecdote that is consistent with what science tells us.”

That was a low blow, he knew Rodney was science itself, Carson knew that he breathed, lived, drank science; hell it was the only damn thing that had kept him alive these past … God, was it a full decade now, Shit! Rodney went to grab his head then thought better of it, the pain wasn't worth it.

“Rodney, cancer doesn’t give up. It can’t be bargained or reasoned with. If it's not treated, it'll not stop until you're dead. And it rarely will be a pretty end.”
“Don't patronize me Carson-”
“I'm telling you what you seem to have forgotten about your own health Rodney!” Carson now waved his hands, “I'm trying to give you accurate knowledge of the risks and benefits, which I as a science-based physician-” Rodney scoffed. “-must provide you. If you choose palliation over true scientifically tested cures you'll be condemning yourself to an end far more brutal than's necessary-”

“So vomiting up my own esophagus is less brutal!”Rodney popped, he pocked his chest.
“Your not yet terminal-”
“But I'm getting there!”
Carson threw up his hands, looking skyward, “I donno what to tell ye', you're on the teetering edge right now-if you were te' give it all up then ye'd be giving up on your one best shot!-”
“You say.”
Carson leveled his gaze at Rodney, yes it was a cheap shot and petty Rodney had to admit, not to mention childish.

Rodney shifted looking off to the side, unable to say sorry just yet.

“Rodney propaganda paints chemotherapy as “poison,” radiation as “burning,” and surgery as “slashing”, but these are the best treatments we have thus far!”

“Yeah well, maybe there's better out there-”

“There isn't”

“How do you know that!?”
“Because I've been schooled-”

“Oh yes tell me about that. Tell me about how the institutions of today-their meat market stamp punch outs- I work in the education system Carson! I work there! Don't shove me shit and tell me it's roses! And medicine is a business! It doesn't search for cures anymore, it searches for alleviating symptoms, Not fixing the underlying problem! You know that!”

“Rodney! Without treatment you're dooming yourself to a terrible death!”

Rodney glared hard, “such as passing out in my own feces-having tile marks on my face because I spent a day-a day Carson, on the bathroom floor!?” Rodney shook livid. His one deeply close and trusted friend, the one person he'd allowed get into his very heart was now betraying him when he needed the damn support, the emotional help the most.

It seemed that today no matter what direction Rodney turned a door-hell a wall was slammed in his face. He'd been denied a job or even compensation for all the hard work and years he'd put into that damn facility and now he was being denied his very rights to his own private body.

His say over his very life and the direction it was taking was being cut off in quick order and he didn't like it.

“Rodney you'll have the sort of end untreated cancer patients suffered hundreds of years ago, before there was effective therapy.” Carson whined, actually whined begging, all his fight ebbing away as if he'd given up.

“I couldn't get up! I couldn't move!” Rodney pointed at himself, “I laid there for the rest of the day then had to slither back to bed! I wasn't even able to wash it off Carson!”

Carson patted the air, as if trying to calm a wild animal, “Rodney, the seductive promise of a cure without pain and hair falling out, without nausea lures people, like you,” Carson flapped his hand at Rodney, “to havens of quackery and that's the road I see you going down now.” this time he kept his voice level, quiet; soft. “Rodney if you do this, if you stop treatment, go down this road-

“I have no choice Carson.”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don't.” Rodney said.

“Yes-”

“I lost my insurance-job-Zelinka-my only reason-hell Carson I lost my apartment by now probably!” Rodney didn't know that for sure but by the end of next month if he didn't figure out how to pay rent he'd be out, gone, homeless... and what would it matter, he'd die on the street from cancer eating him alive with nothing but a concrete side walk for his pillow; if he was lucky and wasn't beaten to death first by a band of punk teens. Rodney shook his fist, head bowed, glaring at it.

“Rodney.”

…

“Rodney”

…

“Rodney I didn't know that.”
Silence descended, heavy and un-breathable, he heard the sound of the chair wheels on the carpet, felt Carson draw near.

“I know we are close, do ye' feel that same way?”
Rodney squirmed, unable and unsure how to respond.

“Let me pay for ye' treatment-”
“Wha-”
“Rodney it's only a few more left an' I think you have a chance-”
“Yeah but that won't keep me housed, it won't-”
“I don't know what to do about tha' but ye' need te' finish this.”
Rodney saw a hand appear next to himself, he looked over to see that Carson had put his head on the exam table next to him, his arms crossed pillowing.

“Rodney dying from untreated cancer is terrible and I don't want you to endure tha.”

Carson looked up into his eyes and clicked his pen.

He actually seemed serious, and suddenly distant now. … Rodney frowned, it was odd, like some wall had come down.

“Rodney, Untreated cancer can mean a bowel obstruction. It can mean having a nasogastric tube to drain your digestive juices to prevent you from throwing up.”

“I wish I had a tube to keep me from puking.” Rodney said.

“It can mean bleeding because you don’t have enough platelets to clot. Ye' can bleed inte' the brain-a hemorrhagic stroke.”
Rodney crossed his arms, this was sounding far to astronomical to be real and Carson's attitude only enforced that. His disbelieving haughtiness, as if he knew better.

“Yes but worse then this Rodney! To the point where you're unable to get outta bed!”

“Yes it can Rodney and I'm trying to give you the best possible outcome-choice … Rodney …” Carson rolled away putting more then just emotional distance between them. It was as if Carson had suddenly cut himself off, as if he'd been told that Rodney was dead already and he was now speaking to a … an android, a corpse; a ghost even! It was terrible and odd. “Alright, I know ye'r depressed an' a bit upset-”
“I'm upset! Lookit yourself!” Rodney waved his hand over Carson.

Rodney didn't like it, it felt like being manhandled.

“Rodney I'm ye' friend and … I ...” he clasped his hands and looked off to the side, “I feel very close te' ye' … and since I do I'm going te' be blunt. Ye' need-I think ye' need counseling right now-”
Rodney grabbed at his head, once again realized there wasn't hair there so he wrung what little skin he had and breathed … just breathed for the life of him-and did his damnedest not to scream.

“Ye' in denial-”
Rodney made a noise, couldn't help it, thankfully Carson ignored it.

“Carson.”
“I'm going to write a contract for pain medication and I want ye' te' sign it.”
“Carson.”
“What.”

Rodney liked Carson because he was so darn straight forward, he'd liked the guy for that, maybe it was something about being Scottish, he didn't know. But right now the damn quack was really pissing him off.

“Rodney if you're going to be relieved of the symptoms you're suffering from then that requires you to actually accept treatment.”

“Carson … “ the fight left him, Rodney had had enough, “Carson I can't. … I just can't.”

“Rodney I know what ye've been through and I know how horrible it is,-”
“Oh really? Have you had cancer Carson?”
Carson's mouth snapped shut and he froze, he leaned back then rolled away, near the wall. He looked right at Rodney. “God doesn't give you a cross you can't bear.”

Rodney pressed his mouth tight, he shook his fist. He'd heard this one, one to many times.

One to many, and to have it coming from Carson of all people now. Someone who was able to insult and harm him in the most personal, private and intimate ways this one really took the cake.

“Carson.” He kept his voice as level as possible.

Waited till Carson actually responded.

It was pissing him off that Carson was waiting as well, on what.

Rodney looked up, his sight pinning Carson to the damn wall. The fucker wasn't giving, just sat there his gaze level, brow in that dead pan neolithic stare.

Rodney had to remind himself that only the most simple flunkies were allowed a Medical degree, and really at this point why was he wasting his time arguing with someone who was too simple to even comprehend his argument much less his side of the conversation. This whole thing was a practice in insanity, repeating an action that turned up the same result, over and over and over again.

“Did you ever think-just hear me out Rodney,” Carson patted the air with one hand.

Rodney was instantly reminded of a show he'd passed while flipping the channels. It was one of the programs he stayed far away from, the jokes being political and just nuts, but the image he caught was shocking, and he thought at the time, had explained the show and it's opinions well. The picture was of a small bat with a tin-foil hat on. The image was introducing a segment called “Bat Shit Serious” or “Insane”, either way the coined term was clear, what Rodney saw at this point mirrored that exactly. Carson's words matched what that little voice over for the small animal said, “Now just hear me out” before it took a dump on the words.

Rodney smelled a dump of biblical proportions coming on.

“Could this be that this might be part of God's bigger plan for ye'? Maybe it's a test, a learning lesson.”
Rodney clamped down on his explosion … he breathed in

…

and again.

…

and again.

“What?” Carson rocked forward his arms crossed tight around himself, as if he was the one needing protection.

“Have you been ill.”
“Yes Rodney I hav-”
“Have you been Cancerous.”

Carson merely pressed his lips tight together.

…

“Yes. Well. Have you ever had Cancer.”
Rodney waited. … he drummed his fingers on his leg feeling the bone there, no muscle, just his fingers-bone tips hitting his femur.

“No. I haven't.” Carson mumbled, he leaned back shifting uncomfortably, messing with the flaps of his coat. “but I don't want ye' te' give up on me. I've been wrokin'-fightin' hard right along side ye' with-in this-”
“Oh have you. Have you been vomiting blood with me. Have you been up all night as I've lost weight from sweating pain alone?”

Carson didn't answer.

“I think that the reason you're trying to convince me to keep on this damn regimen is because you're in cahoots-” “Cahhots?”Carson said. “-with a drug company or the hospital itself-”
“No.” Carson partially stood, adjusted his white coat and sat down.

“-and it would hurt your reputation,” Rodney said.

“Rodney there's no such thing as dying healthy, that's a lie-” Carson mumbled so quiet Rodney couldn't catch it.
“What!?”

Carson huffed out a defeated sigh instead, “Rodney I know you're feelin' ill and the Chemo will take your energy and strength away but-”

“My condition may be better but I'm feelin' worse Carson.”

“Right now you're a bit depressed-”
“A lot worse-What!?”

Carson stopped, thankfully, Rodney really didn't need this right now.

Rodney shifted and looked at the worthless prescription in his hand, “right,” he glared at Carson, “here,” and shoved the damn worthless piece of paper at the quack.

“Rodney you need-”
“I need help. You can't give me that.” he slid off the table and went for his jacket, he was cold despite the fact that it was a good 70 Degrees Fahrenheit out, even more indoors.
“The treatments-”
“Are worthless.”

“Rodney what's gotten into you.”
“Truth.”

“What!?” Carson gasped, as if exasperated and unable to believe what he'd just heard, as if Rodney was suddenly a mad man.

“You heard me.” Rodney shoved his arms into his jacket and opened the door. “Oh and there is such a thing as a cross bigger then you can bear, it's called death, that's a cross bigger then you can bear! And illness that kills you! Anything that kills you is something bigger then you can bear!”

He left with out a glance back.