Under the Cypress Moon (21 page)

"No.  We don't have time.  It's ok.  But if you would, please remind me later.  I swear I can't remember anything lately."

"Will do, Baby, and please, let's not fight about anything.  I never wanna fight with you.  What we have is almost too good to be true.  I love you, Mark."

"I love you, Baby," Mark happily replied, smiling. He always smiled when Shylah said sweet things.  She made him so happy that he continually worried about not being able to do the same for her.

"Sorry.  I didn't mean to seem like I was fightin'.  You do look really really good, though."

"Thank you, Baby.  I try," Shylah said, blushing so hard that it made it a little difficult to drive.

The trip to the next town seemed long to Mark, more from his worry about the appointment and what he might find out and from his worries over his father than from anything else.  When he and Shylah arrived, it was already seven minutes past the appointment time, causing Mark to run from the car, leaving Shylah behind.

"Hey!  Aren't you gonna wait for me?!"

"Sorry, Baby.  I gotta get in there!"

Shylah began to run, her purse jingling and jangling as she did, trying to catch up with Mark; however, she simply could not do it, getting inside the building after Mark was already at the front counter.  Luckily, there were not a lot of patients, and Mark was led to the room quickly. 

When the doctor entered, Mark thought that he looked strangely familiar.  "Hiya, Mark."

"I know you, don't I?"

"You should.  I'm a friend of your dad's.  You met me a handful of times at the country club."

"It's been forever since I've been there.  I know I know you and should remember you better.  Sorry."

"Well, Mark," the doctor continued, "You were probably in high school the last time you saw me."  Turning to Shylah and extending his hand, the doctor added, "Hi.  I'm Dr. Abrams." 

Shylah eagerly accepted the offered hand.  "I'm Shylah."

"You're Mark's lady, I take it."

"The last I checked, and I better be his only one!"  Shylah's smile had the same effect on the doctor that it did on most others, bringing an even bigger smile to the doctor's face.

"Well, I gotta say, Mark, she's a snappy one.  You better watch out.  I think this little lady is gonna keep you in line." Turning back to Shylah, he added, "You sure are beautiful.  I see why Mark is with you.  You are a breath of fresh air a man finds once in a very rare while, if he's only so lucky."

Shylah could not help but blush once more.  All of the compliments, she thought, might begin to go to her head if she were not careful.

As Mark positioned himself better on the table, the doctor stepped toward him.  While carefully moving Mark's hair around to check the wounds from the bar fight, he attempted to keep the situation light.  "So, Mark, how is your dad lately?  I haven't seen him much in quite a while.  Is he still as stubborn as ever?"

"You know it.  He's always been like that, but I guess you haven't heard."

"Heard what," the good doctor asked, parting a patch on the upper part of the back of Mark's head, moving a light closer for better examination as he did.

"He has cancer, pretty bad."

"Cancer?  My God!  How bad?"

"Bad.  Inoperable."

"You mean to tell me ol' Tommy Crady... I mean... Well, honestly, Mark, I don't know what to say.  I'm so sorry."

"Thank you, Sir."

"If there is anything I can do at all, you let me know.  I owe that man."

"Owe him?"

"I guess he never really told you about our Army days, did he?  We were in 'Nam together.  That's where I got the first of my medical training.  I was just a kid, didn't know much then, but I saved his life when he got shot.  He'd saved my life more than once before that and once again after.  The last I remember, our tally was one save for me, and four, I believe, for him.  So, like I said, I owe that man more than I could repay."

"Well, he's in the hospital just down the road right now.  He doesn't have much time left."  Mark felt like bawling his eyes out as he said this.

"If I wasn't so busy, I'd go over and see him, but if you don't mind, I could drop by the house soon, whenever he goes home."

"I'm sure he'd like that.  I don't know when they're sendin' him home, but they gave him a month, maybe less."

"Damnit.  Damnit.  Damnit.  Your dad has a lot of meanness in him, but he's still a good man.  Maybe I've just seen the better parts of him, more than most have.  I wish there was somethin' I could do for him.  Well, I hate to have to change the subject, but you are here for treatment, so we need to discuss you."  The doctor sighed heavily and turned away.  "Sorry.  Give me a second here.  Whoo.  I'm tryin' to be totally professional.  It's not easy hearin' bad news about a good friend, ya know?"  After a few seconds of facing the wall and several more sighs, the doctor turned back.  "Ok.  I'm good now.  Anyway, have you been taking your antibiotics?"

"I've been tryin' to."

"What do you mean, 'tryin' to'?"

"I forget some.  Like, this morning, I forgot.  I meant to take 'em, but I forgot."

"You gotta take 'em, Mark, all of 'em.  You can't miss doses or stop taking the pills at any point.  Take them until the bottle is completely empty.  Otherwise, not only could they not work fully, but your body will build up immunities to them.  The next time that you have to take antibiotics, they may not do anything at all."

"Yeah.  I know," Mark assured the doctor.  "I've heard that before.  I'll take 'em.  I promise.  I just have so much trouble remembering things lately.  With my head injury and with all the stress, I forget the littlest things."

Through all of this, Shylah sat silently but finally, she felt a need to join the conversation.  "Doctor, I'll make sure he takes his pills."

"Good.  Good woman!  See, Mark.  That's why we need the fairer sex.  They keep us men in line when we need it most, no matter how much it might get on our nerves.  Without them, who knows what kinda bad stuff a man would get into?  You got you a good one there.  Just don't forget to invite me to your wedding," the doctor hastily added, winking at Shylah.

"Wedding," Mark asked, exasperatedly. 

"What's that supposed to mean," Shylah chimed.  "You think we won't ever..."

"No.  Not that.  Just seems weird when you hear it out loud, and we haven't been together that long," Mark added.

"It could happen," Shylah plied.  "It could definitely happen, and don't be thinkin' otherwise."

"Not sayin' it can't, Hon.  I'm not against it.  You're takin' this all wrong."

The doctor sat by, laughing the entire time, always amused at the chattering of couples.  "If that day comes... just sayin' if.  Don't forget to invite me.  Now, about your head, Mark.  Do you know what a cyst is?"

"A cyst?"

"Yeah.  It's a vesicle, kind of a sac, enclosed and protected.  It fills with fluid.  People most often get them in obvious places, but sometimes, they form internally.  Some people get them on their brain.  It's not necessarily a threatening or even very serious matter.  A lot of people get them, and unless they grow substantially or burst, there is usually not much to worry about."

"So, I have one on my brain," Mark asked, very concerned and staggered.

"Yes.  I looked over the results of the M.R.I.  and found that you have a rather small cyst on your left temporal lobe.  It may not grow at all, but I can't say for sure.  Even if it grows, it will probably not be a threat.  I do, however, want you to check up with me on a regular basis to check it and make sure that it's not growing or bursting.  If it grows too big or starts to seep in any way, we'll have to do surgery to suck the fluid out so that it won't present you with any problems.  Otherwise, it could begin to affect your hearing and your eyesight.  I'd say that it's nothing to worry about yet, but that's why you need to come back fairly soon and let me take another look.  Ok?"

"Ok."

"Alright," Dr. Abrams happily added, hoping to now lighten the mood once again.  "You'll be ok.  I can promise you that.  I'm not tryin' to toot my own horn, but I am good at what I do, and you'll always be in good hands.  I won't charge you for any of this.  I owe your father so much."

"No.  I can't let you.  I don't care how much you owe him.  I can afford it, no problem.  It wouldn't be right.  Plus, I have insurance anyway."

"Ok, well I know you were prescribed pain pills when you were released from the hospital, but if for any reason they don't seem to be working, you call my office, and I'll prescribe you somethin' stronger.  You can substitute your pills with over-the-counter pain medicines, if you like.  Have you had any severe headaches since all this?"

"A few," Mark replied, rubbing his head.

"Why are you rubbing your head?  You got one now?"

"It's starting but not major."

"Ok.  Well, just take it easy.  Try not to exert yourself too much until you start feeling back to your old self.  You are probably gonna experience bouts of fatigue and extreme dizziness, just so you know.  You can try taking sea sickness pills for the dizziness.  You're on enough prescription meds right now that I don't wanna add to them with more.  Well, you're good to go.  Tell your dad that John Abrams said hi and that he'll be by to see him after he's home.  I really am sorry."  The doctor felt a huge lump in his throat, making it difficult to continue speaking.  Choking it down, he fought back tears and proceeded, "Take care of him.  He's the only dad you're gonna have, and he's a good guy, maybe too set in his ways and too warped in his opinions about people, but still a good guy."

"Believe it or not, he's changed since he found out he had cancer.  He's not the same guy."

"Wow.  Yeah, I thought it would probably get on his nerves that you're with a woman who is, let's say, not what your father would prefer, but I didn't wanna say anything.  I think it's great, honestly.  The world has far too many problems the way it is without people adding to it with old-fashioned, outdated theories on others when they can't fix the things wrong in their own lives.  You two look good together, and if you're happy, that's what matters.  I wish it didn't take dying to make your dad see things that way, but that's one of the funny things about life.  Death is the one inevitability and a real eye-opener.  Anyway, good to see you again, Mark, and you take care of that beautiful woman you got there."

Shylah had hardly ceased from blushing, now blushing even harder, her cheeks so deeply colored that it made Mark take notice and laugh.

"Will do, Doc.  I'll let Dad know you were askin' about him.  I'm sure he'll be home soon."

After Mark and Dr. Abrams shook hands once more, the doctor stepped from the room, leaving Mark and Shylah alone. 

"Ready to go, Babe," Mark asked.

"Yep.  He's a really nice guy.  I don't normally like doctors much, but he's one of the nicest guys I ever met.  He's a real charmer."

Mark didn't think much at all about Shylah's remarks.  Taking her hand, he strode from the room and back to the front counter of the office to set up his next appointment.  Now, it was time to go visit Thomas and bring him the good tidings from a friend.

"Ready to go see your dad," Shylah casually sounded as she led the car out of the parking lot.

"Yep.  Better get to it."

Thomas had been awake for a couple of hours, awaiting the visit of his son, knowing that time was now waning away and that he had so little else to look forward to.  His eyes widened with joy as he saw Mark stroll into the room, followed by Shylah.

"Hey," Thomas tried to shout, rasped and nearly inaudible.

"Hey, Dad.  Thought you might like to see a pretty face today, and Shylah's, too."

Thomas laughed so hard that his body shook, seeming to be in far greater spirits than the previous day, though the laughter was painful.

"Don't put too much on him, Mark," Shylah warned.  "He's got enough trouble as it is without stressing his body out."

"It's... o... k.," Thomas raspingly replied.

"Dad, I just saw John Abrams," Mark initiated.  "Turns out he's my doctor.  I didn't realize who he was til he said it.  I guess I hadn't seen him in a long time.  I told him about you.  He said to tell you hi and that he's really sorry, but he wants to come by the house and see you after you get home.  He was almost in tears when I told him about your cancer."

These words brought such a smile to Thomas' face that it began to brighten Shylah's and Mark's faces as well. 

"You're lookin' a little better, Dad," Mark happily added.

"They... say... I... could..."  Thomas fought so hard for words that he had to stop where he was until he could regain his breath.  "could... go... home."

"That's good," Mark acknowledged, feeling deeply saddened and still fighting to keep from crying.  "Well, you know we'll take good care of you if you do.  I don't know how much you'd like my cookin', but Shylah here is a real good cook."

"Hire... nurse," Thomas gasped.

"You don't want us to take care of you, Dad?"

"No.  You... have... enough.  Get ... nurse... for... house."