Page 72 of Look on the Bright Side

“That can’t be right!” he sobbed. “There’s got to be a mistake! He has a ninety percent survival rate!” He dropped to his knees and bent like a tree brought down by lightning. “You’re wrong! You’ve got to be wrong.”

Justin and Lark just sat, white and hard as marble statues, clenching each other’s hands as their lives were eviscerated.

Six months? Six months?

Dr.Kothari handed over a box of tissues—the good kind, with lotion, because he knew the drill. He said he’d give them a moment, and left the office, and it was so odd, so surreal, Heather wailing, pulling on her hair as Theo tried to get her to stop. Justin said nothing. Lark said nothing.

“My baby, my baby,” Heather said, and Justin got up and hugged her. The smell of vomit was strong. Lark didn’t feel so good herself.

Dr.Kothari returned with a ginger ale, some crackers, Windex and paper towels. He gave the food to Heather, then very kindly cleaned up her vomit.

“I know this is incredibly hard news to hear and absorb,” he said after he’d washed his hands. “Of course, there are some promising therapies out there, and we have a clinical trial going on right now that I’ll get you into.”

“Good! Great,” said Theo. “So there’s hope.”

Dr.Kothari hesitated, then said, “Of course. No disease is the same, and we can’t predict individual outcomes. Of course, we hope you’ll respond well to the therapy. If you go that route, there’s no time to waste, so we’ll want to get you set up for chemo immediately.”

Heather nodded vigorously. “Yes. You’ll feel better when we’re doing something about this, sweetheart.”

Justin said nothing.

“Honey?” Lark whispered.

He glanced at her, almost surprised to see her, it seemed. Cleared his throat. “Yeah. A hundred percent. I wanna go for it. Throw everything at me. I have a lot to live for.” His words sounded strange and wooden.

“You absolutely do,” Heather choked. “You’ll beat this!”

“You’re young and strong, Justin,” Theo said. “You’ll get through this.”

“Yeah,” Justin said, sounding stronger. “You’re right. I will. I beat it once, I’ll beat it again.”

“You’re goddamn right,” Theo said.

“Of course you will. Attitude has a huge impact on treatment, honey, and you’re so healthy and young.” Heather’s voice broke on that last word.

Lark looked at Dr.Kothari. He returned her gaze, and in his dark brown eyes, she saw the truth, a terrifying black maw of fact. For a second, she thought she might faint.

Justin would die. Was, right now, dying, the end of his life now measured in months and weeks and days and hours, not years or decades. Of course, people beat the odds all the time…but in cases like Justin’s, most people did not. Maybe that was why it was called odds. Because it would be odd if you did beat it. A fluke.

Then came all the words, because there wasn’t any time to waste. Lark’s job was to know what the words meant—she’d be going to med school, after all, right? B-cell phenotype, leukemic blast cells, immunophenotyping, high disease burden, flow cytometry, allogeneic hematopoietic stem cell transplantation, CVAD.

Median survival rate, six months.

How…how could that be possible? Justin ran eight miles every other day. They didn’t eat red meat! They didn’t smoke weed or cigarettes or do drugs or even drink that much! A bottle of wine could last weeks in their house. He had very little stress, loved his job, loved her. They even did a corny little gratitude meditation every morning. He was healthy, damn it.

Median survival rate, six months.

Six months wouldn’t even get them to their wedding.

“Can I have a moment alone with Justin and Lark?” Dr.Kothari asked, and Lark gave a tiny nod. Theo and Heather left the room, arms around each other.

“You have very loving parents,” Dr.Kothari said.

“I sure do,” Justin said. “And the world’s best fiancée.”

“I think I hold that honor, actually.” She smiled, or hoped she did, but she felt her cheek muscles quivering with the effort. “We met in kindergarten.” So you better not fuck this up, Dr.Kothari. We are childhood sweethearts. That shit is sacred. The swearing, even though she hadn’t said it out loud, shocked her.

“I would be remiss if I didn’t mention another option,” Dr.Kothari said, again letting his words settle before continuing. “You could decide not to pursue any treatment, Justin. We’d focus on palliative care, keeping you comfortable, concentrate on quality, rather than quantity, of life.”

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