It's your fault you're so fucking sick!

Terri held her breath at the door. This was it, not it, it; she had a "Stay" of two months-ish, maybe more with chemo.  No, this was it as in, this is the last hope. Once I step through this door and hear my "options" that's it. It's either hot poison with the hope it will kill me less, or....

This was not the only " this is, it, it". It was also an "it" as in Its almost 2pm and these Heavenly pills they got me on makes the afternoon feel like midnight. I'm not going to do much else today but continue to drink deeply from the cup of life and go to bed by 7. That or migraine city.

She didn't want to think about it. Why actively explore your rapidly impending oblivion? Moments when she was not thinking about it, it a cluster of dangerously fertile rogue cells in her brain, were paradise. Terri always felt that she had a fortunate life. She never really felt like life did her wrong or made her a victim. Until now. Now her body was victimizing itself, starting at the top with a snowballing error in her biochemistry.

She stepped through the door. The receptionist was young with poofy, frizzy hair. It looked like she had a little sun backdrop behind her head. Dark and sunny would be the best way to describe her.

"Hi, how are you?"

Terri gave her a terminal look. She cringed. "Right, sorry. So Misses"

"Terri"

"Terri, thank you for coming a little early. We now how important your time is to you"

"Yes"

"So we here at 'Choose to Live' and Dr. Neetchurrch like to really get to know our patients. Did you bring the.."

Terri pulled out the flash drive from her purse. Photos, scans of Kindergarten assignments (both her own and her children's), scans of art work, favorite songs, and even a few "Personal essay questions" that Terri really found too personal. Not in the way a doctor obviously needs to know a patient personally but more emotional. Terri had not really had much mental health services at all but the questions to her seemed almost probing and petty, instead of professional. If it wasn't for the cancer, I'd say they made me feel vulnerable. That had a way of making all other threats seem benign. They were  just some weird question, its not like they can hurt me

She took the flash drive. "Thank you, I will bring this to Dr. Neeetchurrrrch for his analysis. Please make yourself comfortable..."

"Don't think that's possible"

"Right...Please take a seat, The doctor is finishing up with a patient and will be with you shortly"

She sat down. She braced herself. Once a patient woman, Terri now took every wasted second like an affront. I'm fucking dying. Hurry up. Time passed and she wondered if her fouling mood was from the wait or her brain cells turning into useless toxin. She thought she had a nap, maybe, and woke with a start. She heard crying, a common sound in any medical office. It sounded like a child. It was accompanied by the more mature, unwounded footsteps of his mother and the doctor.

"So here is a colleague of mine. She's one of the best therapists in the area. Our names are a lot a like. She's great with children. She's actually my cousin but I would recommend her even if we weren't related. Max is on track to a full recovery. He just might need to have his hand held a for a while". A smooth, loose hand slipped her a card.

"Thank you so much Dr. Netchurch". The beaming mother accepted the card and placed her hand on top of her son's shaking head. Terri heard him whimper. No I'm not. No I'm not over and over.


                                                               No I'm not

She heard them leave the building and the doctor approach her.
He held out a now cardless hand.

"Terri"

She liked that he didn't take the time to use her last name. It would not protect her and  everything needed to be done now. She stood up and began to match his pace, he understood.

"Before we get started. Before anything happens or," He frowned. "doesn't happen, I want to thank you for Choosing To Live"

Terri smirked. "Come now, no need for the sales pitch. You already got me. Its not like I'm saving anymore anyways"

He stopped. "This is the real deal. I believe it, Barbara believes it, I won't break HIPA but I can tell you those two who just came in here believe it. And I know you do too"

"Why's that?" They began walking again.

"Because you're here". He opened the door and held it for her. "You've tried everything else but boiling your brain in a microwave in case it kills you less. You don't have time to fuck around"

She was shocked, a feeling she felt she had used up. It was strangely comforting as it came from the words of doctor with a face she did not picture swearing often. The doctor  had the look of a prime professional, healthy but mature. Lean and quick, he seemed more a role to be played than a person she could see in a social setting. He had a paleness to him that seemed like he was a little too clean like he resorted to a level of self maintenance beyond what anyone needed.  Can you be too healthy? she thought as she sat down.

It looked more like a psychiatrist's office than a specialist's office.  It was clean, with a huge, oasis sized sink connected to small, personal tub, a couch, some chairs,scales, not that scary anymore looking medical equipment, a blood pressure cuff, Whatever it had a weird Culture to it. There were paintings and photographs everywhere. It was the body modified in a million ways. From shamans, ascetics, medicine men, powow witch healers, and wicans  to today. Plastic surgery perfection and excess, face to toe with before an after shots askew and random, which made it all the more disorienting. It had some more extreme stuff like life changing tattoos and piercings at a self handicapping level. It had filed teeth and bound feet. She was in the middle of the gender reassignment art project cluster when the doctor spoke.

"Terri"

She turned. He sat far enough away to be visible but hazy. Maybe it was just quirk of a melting brain. Things could be blurry and sometimes, there was double vision in her left eye. It could have been  her random but close to constant tiredness. Whatever it was, Terri  could only focus around him or near him and not directly at him. It wasn't painful of scary it was just, difficult.

"While I was wrapping up with the last patient I had time to look at some of the materials I asked you to bring"

He was looking at a large glossy photograph. She could clearly see that. It was her, hubby, and the kids at that  luxuriously unsustainable and poignantly ephemeral ice cream shop they all loved. 

The Three Musketeers!

A book and many movies none of them ever bother to experience. Dave just heard it from somewhere and Jacob loved it, which made Terri and Dave happy. It was a perfect inside joke because it was almost nothing but inside. A lot of things in their happy life just fell into almost perfect place like that "inside joke". Plus they weren't just three for very much longer after that. Wasn't there 4 of them in the book too? Or was that just the movie? Maybe I should go listen to it on tape if I have the time?

"Do you love your family?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"The one you have just been given"

She stood up. "Yes I fucking love my family!"

"Then why are you leaving them?"

She exhaled so hard from her nose as she clenched her hands in rage it caused an almost reverse snort.

"I HAVE BRAIN CANCER YOU GODDAMN IDIOT"

Doctor Neetcrunch spun in his char and turned his back to her. That she could see a little bit better  He threw both of his hands in the air and twirled them "She's got brain cancer and I'm the idiot. Maybe she's at stage retarded?"

She was so angry she sat right back down. Needing time to take the full offense in. It was invigorating in a way. To become alive in rage like so many of was a long forgotten feeling for Terri.


"Snap out of your brain gush, Terri, you're dying here"


The offense was gone, or maybe more like displaced. Terri was curious. What just happened here. Why was this guy such a jerk to me?

"What is this?"


The doctor turned around. This time a little more clear. He had fine and thin features, generic in a way you couldn't even amusingly guess what part of the world he could trace his family from. He was white, but it was a whiteness that felt more like name tag with "Caucasian" written on it and a hope it would work. His paleness was not really what you could call continental, or even earthly but streamlined.

"I want to know why you are doing this to yourself?"

"Myself?"

"Unless you're also giving someone else brain cancer"

"Why are you being such a jerk to me? I'm your patient!"

"Yes you are and its my job to treat you, not be your friend. Now sit down!"

"I am, asshole"

He got a little closer. Terri noticed under his scrub he was wearing a button down and pants. He didn't even have gloves on her thoughts blended into her words as she "What kind of doctor are you?

There is

nothing

medical abo

ut t

h
is"

"That's the first smart thing you said today"

What?

He got up. "There is nothing medical about what I do. I am a doctor, but not according to any practice you are familiar with. I'm a healer. I force what is harming people out of them. I make them reject it"

She reached her arms out. Trying to get comfortable. She began to focus again.

"I knew you were different. You won't accept insurance. Just a fee"

"A modest fee"

"A fee of $40 and a more substantial payment 'If I live'. I figured it can't get much better than that, in terms of getting what you pay for"

"Licenses are overrated anyways. I want to know, what is the root of your selfishness?"

"My selfishness"

"What about your 'oh so terrible life' do you hate that makes you want to self destructo the braino"

The anger returned, now a stable presence, determined. She wanted to get to the bottom of this outrage.

"Who in their right mind would want to die young of brain cancer? Its terrible! I'm scared, I get headaches and the painkillers only sometimes work and when they do I get tired"

"So you're lazy, that's why you want to die young"

"What?"

"You're lazy, you want to DIE so you're going to DIE int the laziest, way possible. A way that lets you get away with going around on silly pillies for a while before LIGHTS OUT, FUCKO!"

"What makes you think I'm lazy?"

The doctor pulled out a folder with a few print outs. They were bank statements, employment evaluations, her children's report cards and her own. A swarm of Bs. Good, a little better than average. Nothing special but nice and good to have around. Terri was a useful person and she was raising her own kids in the same utility, slightly short of special way.

"You have not risen beyond middle management. I can tell by your lack of serious upper grad educational and training pursuits you will not rise much further. Even when Jacob moves to some average college, he's never going to be anything special. Just like you and the other one"

"I like where I am. My job is pleasant and it comes with a nice insurance plan. Dave brings in  money too. Most of the time and when he's not, he's really bringing in the money. People always want to buy guns, especially if they think the government might look at them funny"

The doctor frowned.

"Ok, but how about Jacob? He's doing ok, but not great. And he doesn't seem to be really good at anything"

"What do you mean?"

"What are his hobbies?"

"He likes video games, hiking, swimming, movies"

"He doesn't do anything but enjoy what other people make, or bunch of friggin rocks and  a stupid beach. What teams is he on?"

"He's not into sports"

"You are, so is your husband"

"I would never want to see my little boy sacked, even it it was The Big Game"

"He doesn't play any music"

"He likes music"

"So do you, and you play"

"I do"

"He does not"

"No.....?"

"Why?"

"He's like, 9! Maybe he will, maybe he won't. He's just a good, sweet kid, with good friends too. I love him just the way he is and want to see him grow.

She paused

"Why the fuck do you think I want to leave them and die of BRAIN CANCER??"

He stood up and started to get a little blurry again.He clicked his way to his desk and pulled out a CD. Terri was on the cover. She was holding a small parlor guitar. A very young Jacob was sitting on her shoulders, just old enough to know to hold on. "Moms Jams; Moody, Melo, Musical Musings on Motherhood by Terri Wesler".

"Everyone's afraid of their own life/if you could be anything you'd want/I bet you'd be disappointed/am I right?"

"I know where that's from. I like them too. You don't deserve to use that lyric"
He leaned against his desk and faced her. More clear this time. He irreverently held her CD together with his two pointer fingers and let it dangle perilously.

She paused, not expecting to have to defend her turning 30 vanity project. Jacob was almost 4 and Terri wanted to do something "Just for me" one last time.

"You could have just Googled it"

"Anyone, could have just Googled it. This is genuine"

She smirked.

"Well I'd hate to think all that you said before was disingenuous"

"I know how the rest of the lyrics you 'borrowed' go"

"So what?"

"Maybe its true, we really don't know the one's we love. You're not happy here, in this, your life. You wanted to perform music"

"I do perform music,. I just performed a month ago for..."

"For your friends, yeah, all twelve of them came"

"More were at that bar"

"Okay, like 30 people there"

"So what? We had a great time. Jacob was even there until like 930! That's like party time for a kid. It was a good break for us.  It was so terrible we're going to do it again in a month"

Maybe....

"Your dreams of being a musician failed. You settled, then settled down and had a family"

She laughed.

"Music is just fun for me. Sure I dreamed of making it when I was young but I never really thought it would happen"

"Who knows? Maybe you could have made it?"

"I did 'make it', you dolt. I have a easy job, a good man, a good life,  great kids, ..."


She exhaled. It felt like she had to justify her life.

"My only problem is my fucking brain cancer and you're not fucking curing it by insulting me"

She mapped out in her head, arms, and legs to get up. The neurons, the nerves, and the connections were all there but she could not. She felt like she knew at some level that this had to be completed. That an unfinished, whatever this was with whoever this man really is, would be worse. Yes, worse than a mind melting death.

He put the CD back in his desk. "Might be worth something someday"

He sat down on the other side of his desk.

"You have a good life. Why won't you Choose to Live?"

This time her arms and legs connected. She stood right up and arched at 30 something angry angle.

"I AM!"

"You don't just come in, pay the fee, sit down, and get yelled at. You have to Choose to Live"

"It really is more than just a slogan you actually believe I'm committing suicide by cancer!"

"You, the heart attacks waiting to happen, the smokers, the senile summer sweater wearers, its all you. Life is the only thing you ever really have and you all just choose to throw it away!"

She put her hand to her head.

" Death is a part of life. I just don't want to die yet"

"IT DOESN'T HAVE TO"

The sterile plasma lights exploded over his head. As it sparked, flickered, and faded she could see him standing above her. She did not recall seeing him move from behind his chair.

"Take a look"

She felt cold hands on her face for a moment before a red shock appeared before her. It took a moment to adjust.

The doctor stood before her, illuminated. Every vein, artery, and capillary exploded with a bright red light.  She could see him live! Every moving cell, every division, all them working simultaneously to make a human. Although she was not really sure what she was seeing, she knew that this doctor, this "man" was different. Before this revelation faded into normal sight the words "Closed loop" kept coming to mind. This body was tampered with. It was better than nature, healthier than health. Nothing was used up, worn out, or wasted.

 Could I be like him?

The doctor opened the shades. The room gently lit up again. Two tubes were dangling in the middle of the office. She curled her lower lip and stuck it out.

"Okay, you know what? I'm sold. You, whatever you are, you are the real deal. I don't know what you showed me but it sure as shit wasn't medicine. It seemed better"

He grunted. Clear as day. No, the fuzziness and mystery was in the room now.  It was in Terri's thoughts.  Even the light couldn't clear that up.

"Glad you are on board. Now, tell me, why do you want to die?"

"I don't"

He started rubbing his hands together. He wasn't enjoying this. She suspected he didn't like any part of it at all.

"Aren't we past this? Look, I'm sorry about those things I said but its how I work. Its my method"

She sat and for the first time, considered his question.

Do I want to die?

I mean, I always knew it was going to happen someday.

"Everybody dies, doctor"

He gave her a pained look, almost innocent.

"I'm not. And if you listen to me, you won't either" 

She wanted to leave. She felt like she was talking to some sort of manchild but she could not explain what she saw. There is no way that was a hallucination. I've had them and they're nothing like what I saw. That was like a cartoon or something

"Ok fine, you are not, but I am. I have brain cancer. It could have been from the 8 cigarettes total I've had in my whole life, maybe, I don't know if that's the exact number or whatever, or maybe it was from using a cell phone, or from living at a high elevation for a few years, or radio towers, or microwaves, or my dad's pacemaker, or some of the crazy shit you suggested, or my own unique biochemistry, I don't know it doesn't matter I guess but I'm going to die. I have brain cancer and I'm going to die. 2 or 3 or 5 or whatever  percent of people are get brain cancer and I'm part of that percent. That's it, that's the reason. People sometimes die of brain cancer and it might as well be me. I accept it"

"Don't"

"Are you serious? Didn't your parents explain this to you?"

"They did. It was the first argument I remember having"

He paced around the room. His leg did not bend, shuffle, or step, yet he moved, his presence changing locations. Terri felt the pain and nausea return.

"They lived but but soon they let me down and died"

Terri was for a moment not herself but someone else, splayed across a dash board and growing colder by the moment.

"It was an accident I know but they could have tried to make it. They could have held out longer until normal doctors could have helped them"

She felt a deep and desperate sadness. One uniquely different and yet very much the same to the own she felt for leaving her family. Her brief vision of a different identity dissolved into nothing.

"I tried to become a doctor myself. I learned a lot but I started discovering I could help people more my own way"

Silence surrounded her and she became a someone who never heard anything before. Slowly it came into being. She didn't even realize it was sound at first. Gentle lapping of the shore. To him it was a natural symphony and the opening of a brand new world

"Conventional medicine didn't understand. I really don't understand what I'm doing. I'm getting better though"

Terri was herself again and at her worst. The pain seemed to overwhelm every sense.

"I started to change myself too. Sometimes I forget what I originally looked like. Getting high a lot doesn't help but I can manage that better than anyone else alive"

Terri could not believe how arrogant and incomprehensible Dr. Netchurch was. It was the only thing she felt beyond misery. This was the worst she had ever felt. The pills were either worn off or not working. It brought her to the floor in a ball. She knew

e-e-ee-nough, enough! I'm getting up, and I'm leaving this place. This guy is insane and I'm not wasting whatever life I have left playing with him

I'm not dying here

I'm not dying here

here

right here

I'm not dying right here

I'm not

not

not dying

I'm not dying

I'm not dying
I'm not dyingi'mnotdyingi'mnotdyingi'mnotdyingi'mnotdyingi'm not dying 

I'm not going to die

She felt relief wash over her. The fluttering in her head, the most her migraines could be dulled without knocking her unconscious melted away. She felt better than she had in a long time.

Then she felt very ill.

She bolted up and dashed towards where the large sink. She shoved the doctor out of the way.

It felt like forever before she stopped vomiting. It shook her whole body in heaves and left her stained in sweat. She caught glimpses of a brown and red sludge. So far as she knew, her body product laid there in the sink, now closer to a basin in her understanding, as she felt no need to verify. It did not drain anywhere but remained.


The doctor clicked towards her, towel in hand.

"I am so proud of you"

Two months later


Terri sat at her front porch. She had another week off before it was back to work. Her recovery seemed miraculous. Her conventional doctors were "pleasantly surprised and happy to be wrong" about her once dire diagnosis.

She saw Dr. Netchurch two more times after her first treatment. Her recovery was complete, maybe even more so. She felt a little younger than when the whole thing started. Her well wishes and comments of concern had turned into compliments. It was pleasant but eerie. One night after taking a shower she could of sworn she saw her veins glow in the mirror.

She had a letter in her hand. It was from the "doctor". It was an invitation to party. He was moving his office to a bigger city. His practice was expanding. She gazed at the letter deciding on whether or not to attend. Although the treatment he provided was amazing, her memories of the process were painful. She had more options now.

It was a nice feeling she thought she never would have again.