One Step Forward
“If you have anything metal in your pockets, please put it in this locker here.” The nurse said. I reached in my pocket and pulled out a phone, my keys, and some loose change. I noticed, as I dropped the change, that my hands were shaking.
The sound of the change hitting the floor seemed deafening in the little hospital. It was so silent in there, I didn’t know how to cope.
Spaz. I thought to myself.
“A little nervous about your first scan, are we?” asked the nurse, smiling.
She’d seen my hands shaking too. Wonderful...
“Um, yeah. Just a little...”
Well, maybe I had lied just a little bit. It wasn’t my first scan. First MRI, maybe, but not first scan. The CT on Monday had been my first, and it’s because of that I was here for a second. But the nurse was a nice old lady, kind of reminded me of my grandmother, in a way. I really didn’t want to rain on her parade, so I decided to play along with what she wanted me to be.
I shot her a quick, ‘winning’ smile, one that belied nervousness, but an embarrassment at being caught wrong-footed.
She bought it.
Those acting classes are really paying off.
I finished picking everything up and placed it in the locker she had indicated. I guess it would be ‘my’ locker for the rest of the day, seeing as how she’d given me the key. Still smiling, she led me into another room.
The room gave me two profound impressions right off the bat.
The machine...
It’s white.
Followed by the equally deep:
It’s cold.
Of course, this makes sense. Machines work better at below-normal-room-temperature. And white is supposed to be comforting.
The nurse, so calloused by her work, was still smiling as she ignored these revelations and continued her work with some minor before-scan checks. I was about to reveal my thoughts to her, when suddenly another, more significant revelation unraveled itself in my mind:
It’s big.
“It’s big.”
And white, and cold.
The nurse turned to me. That smile was beginning to become discomforting, despite her intentions. “Yes, I suppose it would seem large. Especially compared to the CT machine.”
Oh, she knew about that.
“Well, I’m going to need you to lie here, hun. And I’ll need you to be absolutely still.” She said, indicating the long bed while still wearing that oh-so-practiced smile of hers. I counted her teeth. 1, 2, 3, 4... 32? All of them?
Holy cow. I can see her molars.
The place indicated for me to lie was connected to the large, white, cold thing. It looked more like a metallic worm than a machine that would shoot magnetic waves through my mind. Either way, they were NOT comforting thoughts. But still, I did as she asked.
As I lay down, she placed a headrest under me. It rose up forebodingly on either side of my head, the prongs intruding in my field of vision like large, plastic obelisks. As soon as my head hit the pad, though, that smile wavered.
If I thought the smile was disquieting, I had no idea what it would be like to see it waver.
“You aren’t claustrophobic, are you?” She asked somewhat tensely.
“Nope, can’t say that I am.”
The smile returned faster than I’d thought possible. “Good.” She said, and with that, she quickly fastened the top half of the headpiece to the bottom. It completely covered my face, making it impossible for me to move my head at all. I see why she wanted to know if I was claustrophobic before she did this. I wasn’t, but still I could feel my heartbeat accelerate. It also severely reduced my vision, so much so that I could look only straight ahead.
“Here’s your panic button.” She laughed, that smile growing wider as she attempted to be even more comforting yet, placing a rubber ball connected to a cord in my hand. “It’ll set off an alarm, so don’t press it unless you mean it.” She winked.
Then she placed a blanket over me. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how bad the cold affected me -- or maybe my nerves had something to do with it – because I was shivering all over, and thereby breaking the whole ‘Don’t move’ rule.
“Now, we’re going to do a total of six scans. After the fourth, we’ll take a break to inject you with a bit of Gadolinium, a dye that will color anything... Um... Out of place.” Another wavered smile. Another accelerating heartbeat. This doesn’t seem like a good thing so far. She seemed to be the same comforting grandmother as before. I needed that kind of presence. However, now I realized a slight difference in her. She was still a nurse, and I wouldn’t even know her if there wasn’t something wrong with me.
Something is wrong with me...
What is wrong with me?
Noticing the discomfort on my face, maybe even reading into my train of thought, she bent over and whispered to me, “I think you’ll be just fine, but still, the doctor wants the test, so don’t move!” Still she had that smile, but she left the room, and I was all alone, just me and the machine.
Which was moving.
Which was moving?! What?!
I was more than a little freaked out.
I calmed myself. This is supposed to happen, right? Of course it is. They couldn’t scan me if they didn’t put me in the machine itself.
Still, the table moved into the gaping cavern. It wasn’t a reassuring thing, having it’s massive bulk rudely making itself known in my field of vision. There wasn’t much I could do about it, but it made me uneasy. I couldn’t turn my head to look away from it, and even if I could turn my head, the machine was a cylinder. I couldn’t escape it by looking away.
Duh.
A red light blinked. It was a welcome distraction in my little world, so restricted by the cage. At least, that’s what I decided to call the restraint on my head. Actually, that’s exactly when I decided to call it that.
Fortunately, before any other crazy stuff went through my mind, a voice intruded the room, strangely quiet, through an intercom I must have missed when first I entered:
“Don’t worry, hun, first scan is starting now. You’ll hear some thumping and banging noises, but those are supposed to happen. It means the machine is working.”
Quiet commenced as I talked to the machine, telling it – and myself – that everything is fine, that the procedure isn’t gonna be the bad part.
Of course it won’t.... The results are the part to be worried about.
Wait! No! Don’t think like that. The procedure is harmless. Dwell in that thought. Rest there, stay there. That’s the safe place. Tests are perfectly harmless.
Oh look, I’m right! Nothing to be afraid of!
The last thought came as the thumping started, so loud it was nearly painful, but, gradually, I got used to it.
BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG.
It was pretty stinking loud in there, but then the noise was overlaid with another, subtler noise, and another, and another, each a banging, thumping noise, but with a different rhythm, a different frequency.
Leave it to me to find music in an MRI, huh? I’d been subject to every form of music since I was young, and I had been involved in much of it as well – everything from singing to snare drum, saxophone in a marching band to bass guitar in a punk band, down to the choir at my church, and now I was conducting a techno song of a rhythm and structure so perfect and precise that no man could have beat it out on a drum, no choir could have met the complexity of parts. This was the absolute precision of a perfectly designed machine.
But in this music of my mind, I wandered. How long were these tests? 6 minutes each? Ah well, plenty of time to wander, so long as I don’t go too far and get lost.
That was the lamest joke ever.
Shut up, me.
I closed my eyes and drifted...
And then I was awake, a child, being rushed to the hospital. My father’s strong hand was pressed against my forehead, a bead of moisture rested on my eyebrow.
“Daddy, it hurts!”
“I know, John. It’ll be fine. Just hold on.”
Then nothing, until we were in the doctor’s office. The nurse, a different one, a younger one, was ushering my nine-months pregnant mother out into the waiting room while the doctor led my father and I further back. Then we were in a room. It was small, it was cramped, and it smelled of something. I didn’t know what at the time.
“Sir, please remove your hand.”
My father complied, and the strong hands that had held me since birth left me. I felt vulnerable, then I felt pain as my head opened up and a screen of red flowed over my eyes. Then I felt nothing at all, because the red was replaced by a screen of black.
Then I came to. It was bright, painfully so. I saw the doctor, the same one that had forced my mom and my dad to leave me. My mom to go away, my dad to let me go. And in his hand, mere centimeters above my eyes, was a needle, sharp and reflecting the bright light, coming down to meet my head.
Then the pain cut through a haze I hadn’t noticed like a hot knife through butter. I jerked and spasmed, but a nurse was there, holding me down, calling for help. Even through the pain, as I look back, I can’t remember whether I laughed or not. The very idea of a grown woman needing help to hold down a five year old – well, it seemed ridiculous. Then the doctor ordered someone to send more “see-sees” of something into me. And I screamed as the needle came down.
Then there was a haze.
Then the blackness.
And then it was over, as quick as it had started. They had bound my head and sent me into the lobby where my mother and father awaited me.
Then it was black again. And quiet. Did I pass out again? No, I don’t suppose so, I was still thinking.
Then I opened my eyes.
Oh, yeah, that.
The first scan was over.
“The first scan is over. Second one is beginning... now.”
BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG..
Well. The music started again, I wandered again.
It was here... At the hospital. When we’d first arrived for the CT on Monday. I was standing in a doorway. Inside was a girl.
She was beautiful.
“That’s Sally. She’s amazing.” The nurse said.
The nurse? Oh, a different one. The first one.
“She’s really a sad story. A great girl, strong, you know? But tragic.”
“How so?”
“Leukemia... Tragic, really. No hope for her, it’s in the advanced stages.”
I looked at the girl. Then she looked back and smiled. I waved.
“That can’t be.”
She waved back. She was so beautiful.
“But it is. And she’s accepted that.” The nurse said.
We started walking away.
“What, accepted her own death?”
“Yes... and she’s now working to give other kids a chance. She’s using her last few weeks to raise awareness in her school. She’s such a warrior. Such an angel.”
An angel...
And I was gone. And then I was somewhere else.
It was my first musical. I’d made the romantic lead.
It took me a moment to figure out where I was, but it was opening night. I looked over and saw my old friends. It had been a long time. But I knew my lines, I knew my cues. I’d done everything perfectly that night. I was ready for the finale. That happened, and it was over. We were offstage, waiting for our bows..
That’s when it all happened. My opposite and myself were standing there, looking out at the stage, waiting to be cued to come on, when I had my moment of courage. I reached out, and grabbed her hand. We smiled at each other and rushed on-stage, just as we had rehearsed, but afterwards, we were still standing there, holding hands as people congratulated us on a great performance.
Three years later. Lasts night of the show, and me and Tori, an actress in this particular show, went out for our bows. Then we went backstage, and the entire cast was pulled together by a couple of reliable friends. It was my moment to talk to everyone as a senior cast member.
“Everyone, you were amazing.” Pause for cheers. “It’s that time, though, when we part ways for a while.” Pause for groans. “I know that’s our least favorite part, but there’s something you all need to know about this. For most of us, this little... farewell isn’t the last. But today is my last day in town.” Pause for effect. “I’m moving.” Pause for moans.
“I want you all to know, this isn’t forever. I’ll come back to visit. I promise. But tonight, I wanted to tell you all, I’ve never been so much a part of a family than here with you.” Break for hugs and tears.
An hour and a half later, I was leaving the cast party, suitcase and backpack in hands. Everything else was already far away, where I would be in a matter of hours, but Tori came to say a final good-bye. I stopped her though, and I promised to come back, that it wasn’t a good-bye. That it was a ‘see you later’.
I still need to keep that promise.
Then that faded to another promise, in another place. This time, it was to my best friend, that I would one day come back and beat him in ping-pong. Another time, another place, another promise. Then another, and another. So many things I hadn’t done, so many things left to do!
It dawned on me the machine was quiet after several of these flashbacks.
How far HAD I wandered?
The door opened, and the nurse came in. She was smiling. The table moved out of the machine.
There was a needle in the nurses hand. I began to panic. Claustrophobic? No. However, needles? There I had a problem. But she stuck me quickly, put the stuff in, and I was back in the machine. This time? No flashbacks. Just a single, long sleep.
Next thing I knew, it felt like a flashback. I had my cell phone in hand and my pockets were heavy with the change and keys.
The nurse walked in with a doctor. There was something different about her, but I couldn’t quite place what it was.
Then it dawned on me. That smile. It was gone. Completely gone.
This isn’t going to be good at all.
“Hey kiddo, good news is, no tumor!” A flicker of a smile.
“Bad news?”
The doctor interjected here. “We’ve discovered a different problem. You seem to have a prolonged condition of TBI, or traumatic brain injury. This isn’t a new thing, it’s been happening for years. It’s not uncommon to be the case with accidents, falls, being hit in the head... Anything like that.”
“Being hit in the head?”
“Yeah... Why?” Asked the nurse.
“That happened.”
“Well, the doctor said it apparently started with a previous head trauma-”
“That was years ago.”
The doctor spoke again. “Yes, your file mentioned that, and we believe it’s the source of this. We’re... estimating the process will end in approximately four months. There’s nothing we can do now. Maybe a while back, but not now. I’m... very sorry.”
“Could I... get a moment alone?”
“Sure thing.” And both of them left.
There it was. An ultimatum. My entire life... gone. It was gonna culminate to an abrupt end in four months. That’s so little time! My life was, thus far in retrospect, a jumbled mess of victories and failures, starting from youth. My first time acting in front of an audience, my first time playing bass with my band at a real gig, setting a record in track, becoming top of my division in wrestling, honor rolls, paychecks, a fight in the schoolyard, learning how to skateboard for the first time... But for every victory, there was a failure. My first time failing in front of an audience. My band breaking up. Asthma, which kept me from being an effective track runner. Failing grades, being fired, detentions for fighting, my first major wipe-out.
But the thing is, for every failure, there was a promise.
I’d promised that, one day, I’d get back on that stage, that I’d play bass in another band, that I’d break more records, win more matches, make it into college – Ha! Not in four months, I wouldn’t!
I had been so worried, looking towards a future that didn’t really exist, that I’d forgotten to go back to the past , that I’d never keep those promises
So... This was it. Four months. That’s not a long time.
You know what you’re doing, self? Self-pity! You little wimp! Four months is long enough! Just long enough to make peace. To keep a couple promises.
You know what? I’m right.
Of course I’m right.


“And so, that’s what happened.”
The gargoyle stood there, grotesque in the lights of the city. He was a great listener. He was also made of stone.
“That was two weeks ago.”
Again, he said nothing to stop me. The wind whipped about me on the 32nd floor. The open window I had crawled through was thirty yards away.
“I took an inventory, looked long and hard at my life, and began thinking about those promises I had made. There was so much left to do!” A drop of moisture hit my hand.
Rain?
No... Tears...
“But I can’t do anything about it. Any which way you look at it, I die with unfinished goals, with broken promises to people I loved. To friends, and to family. I die!”
A forced laugh escaped my lips even as unwanted tears fell.
“My promises are going to be broken. Hell, I’M broken. Why?!”
But shouting at the heavens in this manner fixed nothing.
Four months.
“Maybe those people are right. Four months, what a short time. But can they imagine two weeks of trying to fulfill empty promises, just waiting to die, knowing the second date on your tombstone? I don’t know how to deal with this... I don’t think anyone would. They think it’s the stress of knowing I’m going to die. I disagree. It’s knowing when that drives you nuts. I could be hyper-active, doing everything I’ve ever wanted in these months, or I could do nothing at all. I could try to live life the way it had always been.”
My voice choked for a moment.
“But life wouldn’t be the same... For four months, life could NEVER be the same. That girl... That... Sally? Yeah. She fought to help other people to not end up in her position. She was so optimistic.. But she died too. All her work, all that goodness the nurse talked about... she still couldn’t escape death. I can’t. No one can.”
I paused for effect, like working a crowd. Like saying good-bye.
Somewhere a pigeon cooed.
“Maybe... Maybe I could stay and fight... But there’s no hope. There’s no longer that seemingly infinite tomorrow in my life, and thereby nothing to hope for in my life.”
“So, if you see what I’m saying, you’ll agree. Four months is a long time.”
I took one step forward, and never got a chance to take it back.