We both left the clinic a bit bewildered. Wondering what further investigation of our health would find. Certainly, we weren't starving yet, but with only about $200 left in the bank and no jobs in sight, even with getting those government incentives, it looked like we were headed for the streets.

Our landlord, the way she was, had already evicted anyone who couldn't pay from our building. Stubbornly holding onto the idea that she could fill those empty apartments, when she couldn't. A couple of tenants that we didn't know died of COVID. But it was very real with ambulances, sirens and lights on, going by day and night, disturbing our sleep.

I was called first and Rory accompanied me for my physical. Fortunately, a young Anne Chin who was very gentle with her questions and probing examined me. She noted that I was underweight and seemed to be a bit malnourished. She took some blood to check and see if I needed any supplements to my meager diet.

While doing my gynecological exam she asked, "Have you been raped recently? There seems to be some scarring here. Abused?"

"Two months ago, I did a modeling audition. I thought I might be doing a nude photo shoot, but they escalated it into a rape by three guys. I haven't mentioned it to anyone, not even my boyfriend. We have been practicing safe sex because a pregnancy at this time in our careers would be very detrimental."

"I can put you on the pill, a diaphragm, a vaginal ring to be safe. Medicaid will not cover implantable contraception, but you might get it from a family-planning clinic. Much better than what you have been doing."

"The ring sounds good to me."

"We will do that."

"We should have the results of your blood tests in a couple of days and I will call you with the results."

We left the hospital with the feeling that at least for me, everything was going to be all right and splurged by getting some food on the street and watching the sun go down from the West River waterfront below the freeway which ruined the quiet of the scene. But the sunset was beautiful and the stars came out on a very clear summer night. Before we left for home, we wished on a couple of falling stars. Hoping that we would be rising stars, soon.

Two days later, Rory and I arrived at the neurology clinic for Manhattan General. A Dr. Pervez Gondwana with piercing eyes and a strong Indian accent met us. After taking a look at his fingers and toes, doing some simple reflex tests, like painfully running a ballpoint pen up the bottom of Rory's instep that made him cry out in pain as his toes curled downward sharply.

More serious tests like an MRI of Rory's spine, x-rays of his spine and an EMG followed. All very expensive but covered in the case of scanning deeply for some cause of the neurologic condition. Gondwana also gathered blood samples and a urine sample. Once again, we were told to expect the results in a couple of days.

All of the tests were bewildering, so when we returned to our apartment we shared the last of our wine for a candlelight dinner we made. Wondering what would happen from both of our tests. At least we had tested negative for COVID. We certainly didn't need that. Probably because we refrained from getting close to anyone and wore our masks every time we left the apartment.

The next morning, shortly after 8 o'clock, Dr. Chin called. At first, she sounded aggravated… "I tried to call you several times yesterday. You didn't answer!"

"We were out all day yesterday and I haven't checked our phone this morning for any messages."

"I've got good news and bad news. Your hCG test shows that you are pregnant, about two months. But you should be putting on weight and that's a concern. Your blood platelets our way up, indicating you may have a cancer. I'm sorry, but I would have to advise that you abort. With COVID around and the good possibility that you have cancer somewhere in your body that you will have to fight with chemo or radiation, it wouldn't be good for you to carry a baby at this time."

"I could hear her crying softly, as I tried to comprehend what she had just told me." Rory confided a day later when he met with Dr. Gondwana.

"Based on your tests, I believe you have a huge problem, too. Although hard to detect, and often misdiagnosed, you don't have any sign of MS or any spinal cord injury based on your spinal x-rays or spine. Your vertebrae show no sign of injury or displacement of disks that can cause symptoms like you have. But from all indications and what you have told me, it looks like you may have the aggressive form of ALS."

"You mean like Stephen Hawking?"

"In spite of severe disability, Stephen Hawking lived a long productive life and even had children. No, I'm talking about a three or four year lifespan, requiring near the end, intensive expensive care that's hard to come by these days with everyone afraid of the virus." He looked crestfallen. Had lost his determined authority to one of surrender to the inevitable.

"That does sound grim. Any chance that there is a cure or that it could be something else?"

"There is research being done, but nothing is working so far. I'm going to have you come in every two weeks to see what is happening to better diagnose what you have. But I've seen it before and the outcome is always the same, unfortunately."

Rory had no way of telling me that didn't hurt. When he did we both cried leaving the waiting room and headed for some street comfort food, a double Manhattan offered by the street bar in a paper cup, and found ourselves watching the sunset again on the West River. Trying to find solace for our sorrow.

I must admit that I had unprotected sex that night with Rory. But it didn't ease our mutual pain. We both tossed and turned all night and stayed in bed in the morning with little to look forward to. We no longer thought about auditions. Rory wasn't writing any music. Not even any sad songs. We just went to every required clinical visit and took the required pills. Everything eating away at our meager money. Too many suffering to have any empathy left for our suffering.

Two days later I was at Manhattan General with Rory where Dr. Chin had scheduled a number of tests. A mammogram. An MRI and ultrasound of my midsection. A Pap smear. And, blood, urine and stool samples. Checking the surface of my body showed no abnormal moles or melanoma. A capacity test showed that my lungs were working without any obstruction or weakness. Expected because I never smoked and was an athlete runner and cheerleader.

Two days after that, Dr. Chin called and told me that the stool sample ruled out any colorectal cancer. The Pap smear was normal and the mammogram showed no sign of breast cancer. However both the MRI an ultrasound showed some abnormality among the key organs. A slight bit of jaundice in the whites of my eyes, indicated that it might be my liver. 

She asked me to take care of that pregnancy. "I want you to get a CT scan of the region of the liver, gallbladder and pancreas. You can't do that with the fetus we saw in the ultrasound. Hurry, I suspect cancer and need to get a good picture of it for treatment.

Three days later, I went to the local family planning center, a block away, and had my abortion. I was amazed how quick it happened and I didn't feel badly or much pain as I left the clinic. Inside, I didn't tell Rory, but believed that I carried the child of one of those three guys who raped me. While that thought may have made him feel better about my aborting the baby, knowing it would have only added to Rory's concern. We both were depressed. No need to add fuel to that.

Right after I got back from the abortion, a bit sore and feeling really bad I made arrangements to have the CT scan at Manhattan general that Dr. Chin ordered.

I was glad that it didn't hurt because I was still a bit sore when I underwent the procedure.

Two days later, Dr. Chin called with the results.

"Rebecca, I've got bad news. There is no other way to tell you this except directly. But you have stage III pancreatic cancer. It has metastasized… I'm sorry…

spread to three lymph nodes and your liver. I will have to put you on a course of radiation and chemotherapy to see if we can beat it."

"Already crying, I asked, "What should I do?"

"Come to my office tomorrow at 9 am and my nurse will lay out a schedule of treatment and prescriptions you will need to get. We will fight this. And we will win."

I did as she asked, often leaving Rory to fend for himself. First, I got radiation treatments that made me very sick and unable to eat for a few days. 

Dr. Chin called after those treatments and told me "We have shrunk the main tumor, but the spreading is continuing, we will have to attack that with chemotherapy.

I followed Dr. Chin’s regimen through three cycles of chemotherapy, but each time, getting sick. I lost more weight and began to look like I scarecrow in the mirror. Not the healthy girl I once was. Finally, at stage IV she gave up and told me, "I'm afraid there's nothing more we can do. I want you to eat well and regain as much weight as you can. If you are in need of hospice, please give me a call and I will put in the orders for it to take place." I could tell she was crying on the other end of the connection.

Even though Rory had physical therapy and a number of pills to counteract what was happening to his body, he continued to lose function at an alarming rate that scared him and me as well. There were times when we talked about it.

"Rory, do you think we should notify our folks back home. I haven't even told Judy and Marcy, my closest friends who encouraged me to come here. They tell me that my parents are so upset with my leaving and not going to college like my friends are, that they have disowned me. Put all of my belongings from my room in storage. How can I ask anything of them now?"

Still able to talk, but slurring his speech a bit like he was drunk. "I'm in the same situation. I've been here longer and they know that I was picking pockets to stay alive. They've disowned me as well. If I told them about my ALS, they would scoff and tell me that I deserved it. Politically, we were at such great odds, it was one of the reasons I came here five years ago rather than going where they wanted me to go, that conservative Bible college in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

And so, the months of July and August passed. Somewhere In August my banking account went negative and I started taking cash advances on my $2000 credit card balance. My high school friends and enemies did not contribute to our online plea. Our families were small and strapped back home and were never informed. In the end, we gathered about $1300 in mid-July before donations stopped altogether. 

But we had to eat, pay extra for any over-the-counter drugs or supplements, and keep a shelter over our heads. We couldn't be on the streets with chemotherapy and loss of function Rory could feel happening. 

We began to chalk up "lasts" of the things he was losing in a diary that I kept for him to give to Gondwana when he went to see him. Struggling to walk now, so we had to take a cab. On our next visit, I asked for visits to be virtual unless he had to go to a hospital. I dread that coming. We were already thinking of hospice for both of us, scared of it happening as we hugged each other each night and worried through the night, losing sleep.

When Dr. Gondwana saw how difficult it was getting for Rory to walk, he sent us to the rehabilitation department in the hospital where they had used, donated wheelchairs. We picked one out so he didn't have to struggle so much to walk and I could push him. Although it was getting more difficult for me with all of my treatment and loss of strength to push him. 

We talked last night before going to sleep. He was barely understandable as he took a breath often before speaking, but Rory was committed to something we had talked about earlier.

Looked me in the eye as we lay side-by-side and said. "Let's end it together, tomorrow. I can't face what's coming anymore. Let's go out while we can still help one another."

"I'm with you, Rory. I'm not looking forward to the pain ahead just around the corner when my organs start to fail from this insidious cancer that won't go away. The pain of chemo is enough. We don't have a gun. How do you think we can do it?"

"I have a stash of fentanyl pills that I stole from a drug dealer before you came. At first, I thought they would be good insurance if I ran totally out of money. But then, I realized, that if I tried to sell them on the street or in clubs I would either be found out by the local gang or the police."

"But we are already on prescribed opiates for our pain?"

"I don't want our doctors blamed for what we do. That street stuff kills. And I know what it takes. All we have to do it is take 10 of those little blue pills each and it will be lights out for us." His eyes were shining at me as if he had won the battle he was desperately in.

"Go to the closet. On the top shelf in a shoebox you will find a plastic bag with the blue pills. Bring it to me."

I complied with his wishes and came back with a plastic bag with what looked like, over 500 blue pills that were marked like they were prescription. "Is this what you want?" I asked as I held it up in front of his face.

With some effort, Rory shook his head up and down, yes, and took a breath before answering. Yes, we will only need 20 of those pills. You can put them back in the box in the closet if you like or not. I don't care."

To say we slept better after that revelation would be a lie. While the pain pills that Rory was taking put him to sleep occasionally, what we were going to do kept running through my mind like a bad nightmare. But I knew I had to do it for both of us. Rory was physically incapable. It was all on me.

The next day was like most of the days at that time. I got Rory out on the fire escape for a while to smell the autumn smells with some leaves burning in the distance in the bright sun taking the chill off the morning with no heat in the building.

We religiously took our pills and I helped Rory with his latest song because he was having such great difficulty getting the notes right and the words the way he wanted them. We would be leaving a stack of over 200 songs that had never been played outside of that apartment. Perhaps someone would pick them up and bring them to an audience someday. We didn't really know for care. It was just a way to occupy the day so the thought of what we were going to do did not way too heavy.

I checked my credit card and I had $89 left on it. It was time to splurge, so in the early evening, in my weakened condition, I pushed Rory to a nearby favorite street side restaurant where we ordered some really good food that we both could still put down. Steak, a spiced rice, and asparagus spears with a glass of white wine on the side there was even enough money for a cheesecake we shared.

After that, I pushed Rory to Central Park where we sat together in the tranquil twilight hours as the setting sun further emblazoned the trees that had turned contrasted with those that were still green. The ever present pigeons and their cooing added to the quietness amid the city were the bustling traffic nearby never quite diminishes totally away.

After the sun went down, I wearily pushed Rory back home for the last time. A man, seeing my plight came up and offered to help. We stopped at the liquor store and bought a bottle of cheap wine. It was $7.95 and I only had five dollars worth of credit left. The guy pushing bought it for us. So we got home faster than I thought. I told the guy that he could come up and share the wine with us, but he declined saying that he had to get home to his wife and children.

Having not eaten like that for some time, we both had to go to the bathroom. We watched a movie and splurged, buying it with the credit I had left. It was one we had both wanted to see but was not going to be in the theaters until the theaters would be open again.

With the movie over, Rory said, "Let's take a shower together like we used to."

"Sounds like a great idea. But first give me a half-hour to finish writing the story of our journey that I've been writing. Okay?" 

"Okay."

Rory watched me take the laptop and write of the day's events. It didn't take me very long. He was clearly sleepy.

I poured a large glass of wine. We pulverized the pills and poured the contents into the glass and I stirred it. In silence, we sipped the wine until it was nearly gone. We undressed and I helped Rory to get into the shower where we kissed and caressed like never before under the welcome warm water.

He slouched against me with his cheek on my right breast in the shower pointing to the wine glass in my hand we had shared. He gasped, "It took only 500 mg. You're next in less than two minutes."

As he slid down he clawed at me like an angry cat. I felt dizzy and found myself falling in the wineglass shattering before I hit the tile wall with my head and everything went mercifully black.

Copyright 2022 © Ronald W. Hull

6/12/22