Heaven’s Gate
48 In the Blood
It was a week later that we got the diagnosis for Doug. I called Angela.
“Lymphoma? Crap!” she said. “Hodgkins or non-Hodgkins?”
“Oh. They said it wasn’t Hodgkins. That’s better, isn’t it?” I said.
“Not necessarily.” She hesitated for a few seconds. “They’ll probably want him to start treatment right away. It depends on what stage it’s in as to what the treatment will be. I’ll send you some info so you’ll all know what to talk about with the oncologist. Don’t try to self-diagnose. Just be well-informed.”
“How are you doing up there?” I asked.
“I’m cold. All the time. You know, Minnesota only has two seasons. Winter and poor sledding. If I had them, I could ski to work. Which reminds me, if I don’t get out and catch my bus, I’ll be late for work. Another thirty-six-hour shift. But I’m hanging in there. Tell Doug I promise to be a good oncologist. I wish I was there to help now,” she said.
“Love you, Angela. Stay warm.”
ELAINE: My friend, Doug, has non-Hodgkins lymphoma. For those who don’t know, that’s a kind of cancer. [Sympathetic aaw.] Yeah. Cancer sucks. They are going to start aggressive treatment this week. Chemotherapy and radiation. At least he’s already mostly bald. [Couple boos.] Don’t get upset. I talked to him and he approved my making fun of him this morning. After all, laughter’s the best medicine, you know. Reader’s Digest said so. And if it doesn’t work, at least he’ll die laughing, right?
You’ve got to be careful about the drugs they give you these days. Oh, I trust my doctor. Do you think I’d take my panties off and let her stick a cold speculum up my twat if I didn’t trust her? Ahh! Put your feet in the stirrups, please. We’re going for a ride. The first time my Hercules said put your foot in the stirrup, I hit him so hard we had to cancel our horseback riding date. Guys! Don’t say that to your wife or girlfriend.
But no matter how we trust our doctors, you need to read the labels and that little booklet they give you for your information. [In golf announcer tones to the aside camera.] ‘This drug kills rapid growing cancer cells. And any other cell it comes in contact with. It may cause nausea and uncontrolled vomiting, hair loss, heart palpitations, nerve damage, or fertility problems. It may cause mouth sores, loss of appetite, itchy skin, swollen hands and feet, weakened bones, anxiety, depression, and loss of memory. In a very small percentage of cases, side effects may be fatal. But you won’t die of cancer.’
They don’t expect us to read that crap! Sexual dysfunction? My fingernails might fall off? I’ll pee myself? Oh, those are only possible side effects. I might also possibly become the first female president of the United States. Hey! It’s a possible side effect.
We should read the label on everything. Here’s one I bet you never thought of. Ladies, we all like to look nice and if you are on television, that means you stay thin. After all, the camera adds ten pounds. So what do we do? We get up in the morning and shampoo our hair, because clean fluffy hair is pretty. But it says right on the shampoo bottle, ‘adds body.’ Honey, if you are trying to lose weight, you don’t want to be using shampoo that adds body.
Dish detergent. That’s what I wash with. Remember that manicurist, Madge, who soaked her client’s hands in dish detergent? She had the right idea. Wash your whole body with the stuff. Why? It says right on the label, ‘cuts grease.’ We’re educated women. We know what grease is. It’s fat. Dish detergent cuts fat.
I hate to be the one who cries conspiracy, but really. They should have switched the labels!
That was the light side. We had plenty of the heavy side to deal with, too. The chemo and radiation whipped Doug’s butt. Sandy, Rhiannon, and Doreen took turns sleeping with him at night because the crowded bed that he loved so much made them touch and touching hurt. Then he’d have a week of feeling less crappy before he had to go in for another treatment. His parents stayed and were a big help with the kids. The women would adapt, but right now, having a sick husband was straining them. He went from a receding hairline to a cue ball.
We still managed to have a pretty good Christmas. He’d started his treatments just under two weeks before the holiday, so he was feeling pretty good for our Christmas Eve celebration. Everybody knew, of course. You don’t keep something like that a secret from a clan and tribe that had grown as close as ours had. We had everyone bring their kits to the tree to add things to get us through a new series of hardships. It wasn’t just for Casa del Agua. We all realized that life throws curve balls at you and you’ve got to decide whether to hit the ball or take the strike.
“Don’t you think that listing out all these things that could happen kind of invites them to happen? An earthquake? Really?” Jennifer asked.
“We never put things into our kits that would help us address an emergency,” Rose said. “Maybe an earthquake is far-fetched, though I heard they had one in Missouri last year. But fire? Tornado? What happens if the power goes out to the whole village? I know we don’t have enough generators to run the studio, let alone to run the whole village. What about phones? What do we do if we can’t call someone? Or if there is an accident?” Rose said. She was gung-ho on getting the clan prepared for disaster.
The clan executive committee met and everyone agreed that there needed to be a complete first aid kit in every dwelling. And fire extinguishers. We decided to buy them out of our general fund so no family needed to go out and purchase either one. Dinita ordered top of the line kits from a medical supplier. Dawn, Cathy, and Dinita all had their nursing kits for emergency response. We were all castigated for not running to get Cathy or Dawn when Doug got sick. Dinita was visiting Angela in Minnesota. We decided that every household should have a list of phone numbers for each emergency. Of course, the first priority was 911, but then we needed to alert others.
Monte went to work on an alarm system. He’d developed alarms for the gates of the ranch and security cameras monitoring the River and the Studio. He’d finished his degree in electrical engineering, but had taken a job at the local Radio Shack so he could stay at the ranch and act as bodyguard for Leonard when needed. He proposed putting an alarm system in every home that a resident could hit for any reason and it would blast out from a speaker on their home. That would give family and neighbors a chance to respond and they’d know exactly where each alarm came from. Furthermore, the fire station would have a master panel that would light up for any home in the village and direct them straight to it.
Christmas Eve when the log came around, Doug slapped both hands on it. He was determined.
“I’m putting cancer on the log,” he declared loudly. “It dies. I live.” There wasn’t much any of the rest of us could say.
Fuck cancer.
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