The freedom to fly
Doctor Banovic told Rusty yesterday he could not fly. His latest scan showed that the pneumothorax - pockets of air in his lung - had not resolved itself. If he were to travel by air, the effect of the plane’s cabin pressurization could be deadly.
This will be the second time Rusty’s flight back to Asia is postponed. As a result, I will not see him in Seoul next weekend, as we had planned. When he called with the news, he turned his frustration and anger on me. “What did the doctor say?” I asked him. “Did you get my text message?” “No, are you okay? Will you be able to…
“What do you think?” he lashed out.
Usually, when Rusty snaps at me, I do not let it slide. In the past, I have snapped back, walked out, even threatened to leave him. But yesterday, it left me in tears. I could tell from his voice that he was getting weaker. His breathing was shallow and he was coughing a lot. By the end of August, it will have been 18 months of chemotherapy and seven surgeries altogether. Last night, the anger was his way of masking the desperation with which he coveted a normal, healthy life.
Even though I understand it, I am not used to meanness, especially not from Rusty. But I do not think that was why I cried. I cried because if I had been there with him, I would at least have been able to hold him, and tell him everything would be okay. Over the phone, my own feet lacking flight, he had been too far for me to reach.
February 2nd, 2007 at 12:18 am
[…] This afternoon, we saw our doctor at Memorial Sloan-Kettering to receive our latest scan results. The cancer has spread. It is now in Jesse’s lungs, liver and kidney. The clinical trial has failed us. […]