âJAMES, WOULD YOU STEP INTO my office, please?â
At the doctorâs appearance, Jim stood up. He had been scanning, but not reading, a tennis journal. Jim flopped the magazine on the side table and followed the doctor down the hallway. He was apprehensive about why Doctor Nolan wanted to meet with himâ face to faceâon short notice.
During the quick drive from his business office, Jim was distracted as he mentally ran through the various reasons why he might be here. He wondered if it was a mistake to cancel his important sales meeting this morning. Heâd had a physical a few weeks ago, but it was routine. Most likely the doctor was following up on test resultsâperhaps the blood tests or the PET scan. Jim felt confident heâd get a glowing report, since he was in excellent health. Surely there wasnât anything the doctor couldnât tell him in a few days.
âPlease have a seat, James.â
The office felt warm, and Jimâs mouth was  dry.  He  was suddenly thirsty.
âWhatâs the urgency, Doc?â Jim tucked his long legs under the chair and watched Dr. Nolan close the door before walking around to the other side of his desk. Sitting up straight, Jim edged forward in his seat.
Dr. Nolan removed his glasses and rubbed the red spots on the bridge of his nose before speaking.
âJames, we need to talk about your lab test results because theyâre concerning. I ordered so many tests because I wanted to be sure of the results.â
âEverything is fine, isnât it?â Jim shifted uncomfortably, his cocksure, business attitude deflating at the sight of the doctorâs grave face.
Dr. Nolan looked him in the eye. âJames, weâve been friends a long time. Iâm going to give it to you straight. It appears your body has an invasion of three different cancers that are feeding off each other in several vital organs. Cancer has invaded your liver, pancreas, spleen, and possibly your kidneys. I canât begin to tell you how exceedingly rare your condition is.â
âWait a minute, Doc. This makes no sense. I feel fine, and Iâve never been sick a day in my life.â
âYou feel fine now, yes, but Iâm afraid those feelings arenât permanent.â
Jim shook his head and then ran his hands through his dark hair. This couldnât be happening. But heâd known the doctor for decades; he wouldnât lie.
Dr. Nolan sat back and waited for Jim to absorb the enormity of the situation.
âI have three cancers? I . . . I . . . How is this possible? Iâve always been so healthy.â Jim began to pant, his breathing labored. âOkay, wait a minute. So, Iâll need to take some time off from work, but youâre saying chemo, radiation, surgeryâtheyâre an option for me, right?â
Dr. Nolan got up and sat in the chair next to Jim, putting his hand on Jimâs shoulder.
âThe cancers are fast-growing and widespread. You could go that route. We might buy some time and maybe add two or three months at the most. However, you would have to decide if the side effects are worth it.â
Time came to a screeching halt for Jim. Frightened, he inquired in a nervous voice, âWhat kind of time are we talking about?â
âAfter seeing the scan images, I conferred with several friends and oncologists around the country. Short of a miracle, the consensus is three to maybe four months. I wish I had better news, James.â
Jim shook off the doctorâs hand and stood up. âWhat caused this? Why donât I feel anything drastic?â
âThose are questions I canât answer.â
âI know Iâve felt fatigued a lot lately, but I just figured I was working too hard and not sleeping enough. Everyone has fatigue, right?â Jim paced, rubbing his face. He stopped. âWhat if I hadnât come in for the physical?â
Dr. Nolan did not sugarcoat his next edict, and his voice was kind. âYou would still experience your illness, but you would face it thoroughly unprepared.â
Jim suddenly felt faint, like someone had sucked all the oxygen from the room. He collapsed into the chair. He was unprepared for the dreaded word cancer. Random thoughts hit him in machine-gun succession. Normally self-reliant, Jim was quickly devoid of immediate answers. He bent over at the waist and placed his head between his knees and slowly began to rock.
Dr. Nolanâs hand hovered above Jimâs back.
âJames, are you in any pain at the moment? Can I get you something?â Jim shook his head but continued to rock.
âIf itâs okay with you, Iâd like to confirm my findings with a couple more biopsiesâperhaps run another PET scan with contrast.â
Jim stopped rocking and sat up, staring at Dr. Nolan.
âDoc, I mean no disrespect, but poking holes in sensitive areas of my body, yanking out tissue or bone, and pumping me full of radioactive junk doesnât sound pleasant. Will it help rule out cancer?â
âIt will confirm my findings.â
âThis canât actually be happening. Why now? Why me?â
âJames, youâre not even sixty andââ
âNo, unfortunately, I turned sixty last week.â
Startled, Dr. Nolan said, âSeriously, James? Has it been that long? I remember delivering you. I know you have three lovely children, but you should be looking forward to a full life with grandchildren and retirement.â
Jim put his  head in  his  hands again,  making a wordless, groaning sound.
âI would recommend reaching out to family and getting some support. In less than two months, your organs are going to start to fail, and before the third month is finished, youâll be needing twenty- four-hour care. Right now, while you can, make some decisions by planning and making arrangements.â
Jim blankly stared at the doctor.
âWell, I guess that last part is easy. When Iâm dead, cremate my body, and scatter the ashes to the wind.â
âJames. Iâm serious. If you want, I could contact your family.â
âPlease donât! Your information is a lot to digest, and it appears I haven't much time to spend it casually.â
Jim stood and turned, facing the door.
Dr. Nolan reached out, grabbing Jimâs shirt sleeve.
âIf you need anything, anything at all, please get in touch with me. My receptionist will give you my personal cell phone number, and you can call me day or night. If youâre in pain, Iâll immediately arrange for something at the hospital or your pharmacy. If you donât mind, I would like to see you again in one month.â
Resting his hand on the doorknob, Jim stood frozen, staring at the closed office door. His voice was flat, monotone.
âI need a little time to figure some things out, and I appreciate your concern. Youâve been a terrific doctor, but I think I need to spend some time alone. Please do not discuss my condition with anyone or make any family calls. I beg you.â
âOf course. You have my word, James.â
Jim walked out of the office to the parking lot. After dropping his full weight into the leather seat of his BMW 540, Jim looked at his watch.
Three oâclock!
In a fit of frustration, Jim yanked the Rolex off his wrist. He tossed it on the passenger side of the carâs floor. Clenching his fists, he hammered on the steering wheel with eyes tightly closed.
âI canât be dying. Iâm too young.â
Peering in the rearview mirror, Jim studied his chiseled face, looking for signs of any sickness. He pulled down on one lower eyelid, staring at the steel-gray iris, and then opened his mouth, inspecting everything with his tongue stuck out.
Jim shook his head. He then started the engine and ignored the seatbelt warning indicators. The BMW screeched backward from the parking stall, and then jerked to a stop. Heading for the exit, the car leaped from the curb like a cheetah. The tires squealed as Jim drove off in a rush, speeding down the boulevard.
*Â *Â *
Dr. Nolan gathered the lab reports and various papers associated with his patient. He took his time as he slid the papers into a thick folder. Sitting down, Dr. Nolan let his finger trace out the name, James Kreider, printed along the edge.
Dr. Nolan buried his face in his hands and wept. Choking on his words, he began to pray.
âOur Father, Who is in heaven, great is Your Name. Your kingdom
come, Your will be doneââ
