Date: Thu, 20 Sep 2001 07:43:28 -0500
From: Nathan Harrison <nate_eric@hotmail.com>
Subject: Reach for it 3

Reach For It
Chapter 3
nate_eric@hotmail.com

	Well, as I sat down to write this chapter, I looked and saw I had a
couple of emails. I appreciate the good input. It really makes a
difference! I also noticed I was on a Spam list. Coincidence? I think not!
I hope whoever put writes on Spam lists rots in hell, but otherwise I hope
they enjoy the writing as well! (If you don't read the story, I hope they
turn the heat up when you arrive!)
	I suppose I should write the standard disclaimer again. I don't
know anyone; I make no assumptions or statements about anyone's sexuality
or political agendas.  Don't read this if you are to young, if it is
illegal in your locality, if the voices tell you not too.  Because If you
do read this you would them be making a personal statement against the
mindset that says it is illegal to read such as this and the idea that you
can't make your own decisions in life. I advocate neither activity.
	On a personal note here, a good friend of mine is of Arabic decent
and recently had her cousin assaulted for his heritage. I find this idea to
be ridiculous and wish that anyone who reads this would consider it there
personal obligation to correct the thinking of someone who voices, the dare
I say, the idiotic idea that it would be O.K. to do something like that. I
mean that in a peaceful way, don't think I mean smack them around or
something, jeez you people! Haha.
	This is a continuation of my fiction, it is not an immediate
release, but rather had a bit of build up.  We had a touch of sex in the
last chapter, hold on the end will be worth the means and I hope justify
them.

Enjoy the show!
********************************************

	"What the hell are you thinking?" The voice pierced the haze of
sleep that had kept Joey comfortable for the last hours.
	"Well, good morning to you too, Christopher." Joey rolled over and
felt the cold, empty side of the bed that was opposite him. He signed,
"That is a first. I have never been abandoned before."
	Chris looked at his friend on the bed, and the light he made of the
situation, and truly wondered if he knew this guy. He voiced his concern,
"Joey Fatone…I thought that I knew you. I have always had this mental
picture that you were a nice guy, a good friend.  You sure shook the hell
out of that this morning."
	"Gee, you sleep with one guy and suddenly everyone is shocked. I
mean, really, this isn't the dark ages." Joey sat up in bed and looked at
his bedroom invader.
	"First of all I don't give a flying fuck who you sleep with. True,
I have never seen anything to prepare me for finding you in bed with
another guy, but I can believe that you might sleep with anything that
walks sometimes, must be the New York thing." He paused to see the reaction
to his irresistible jibe.  After receiving his response, a not so clever
positioning of Joeys middle finger, he remember the anger he had
felt. "Second, you know damn well I am referring to the fact that you test
your sexual boundaries with the one guy Lance had totally flipped over."
	"If Lance had been able to build up enough balls I would not have
had to "test the boundaries of my sexuality"." Joey responded, now sounding
more awake than asleep.
	"What?" Chris looked like he had been slapped. "What are you
talking about?"
	"Listen, it is really simple. Lance likes Tim, Lance is afraid to
tell Tim he likes him, Lance makes a total ass out of himself driving the
same Tim, who he likes, to the point he may never speak to him or us
again." Joey spoke as if he was making the logical path simple for a moron.
Unfortunately that was how he was making Chris feel.
	"And this equal you sleeping with him how?" Chris felt like he was
drowning, though he could tell that to his friend it made perfect sense.
	"If I sleep with him, he will have to talk to us. It ties him to
us, so that now Lance can have a second try."  Joey again sounded as if it
made perfect sense.
	"That is the most fucked up logic I have ever heard. You must have
some twisted sex life." It was Chris's turn to sigh. "Strike that, I know
you have a fucked up sex life.  Have you thought about how Lance will take
it when he finds out that you had sex with the only guy he has thought
about asking out?"
	"I didn't say it was a perfect plan! It only buys us time. You have
to think how to deal with that."  Joey now was smiling. He had come up with
the last part just then.
	"Whoa cowboy! I am not getting dragged into this." Chris backed up
wringing his hands.
	"Lance is your friend too! You have to help." Joey smiled; he had
scored the big one now.
	Chris knew he was defeated; the smile Joey had on his face assured
him of that. "I hope it is worth it; if that guy turns out to be a creep, I
will kill you. Of course, I might kill you anyway."
	"Trust me. I think this might be just what Lance needs. He was
pretty amazing last night at least."  Joey laughed he winked at Chris and
blew him a kiss.
	"God help us, I don't think homosexuals could stand you being loose
among them." Chris leaned back against the short dresser that was in the
room.
	"So how did you find out? I thought I would pull this off without
anyone knowing." Joey started to get up, morning piss after all.
	"I came in to ask what happened when you left us. All I found was
you tangled up in the bed."  Chris laughed. "Imagine my surprise when I put
a blanket on you to and in the dark I finally saw you weren't alone."
	"Oww, you are so sweet." Joey walked to the bathroom, striding
across the room in the buff.
	"Cover yourself." Chris turned and walked out of the room. "If this
doesn't work, it could tear up the group."
	"Even if it does work it might tears us apart." Joey yelled from
the bathroom as he relieved himself. "But it might, just might, make us
better than you can possible imagine..."
	"Thanks for the words of wisdom Joey-one Fatobi." Chris walked out
to the den to think of something to save the world.

********************************************************

I walked in a daze the whole day. I had two hours of sleep, but I was not
sleepy. I played over the events of the night over and over in my head. I
thought I might have dreamed it, except for the report on the local channel
of the impromptu song given at a local bar by the band NSync during their
short stay.  I couldn't believe it. I was running on energy reserves that I
didn't know I had.
	I had entered work in the morning and gone back to my regular
rotation. I was on a consultant service for lung specialists. I admit the
day was pretty boring; all I did was walk around and see the patients we
were following. I got about three calls during the day to see new patients
and evaluated for their management. It was about noon, right when the day
was getting frustrating, really you can only see people with emphysema so
many times before you just get tired of it.
	Lunch was a welcome distraction from the day. I had managed to
amazingly forget about last night; I suppose fatigue caught up with me. I
was sitting down in the cafeteria enjoying a pepper turkey sandwich when
who should walk up but Jason. His dark green scrubs added to the rainbow of
colors in the café.
	"Dude, what happened to you last night? You were going to come over
and help Ronnie pull the carpet for the pool table." He looked at me
questioningly.
	I slapped myself on the head. "Shit, I forgot." I looked back at
him. "I got caught up with something."
	"What could have made you forget? I mean Ronnie has reminded you,
oh I don't know, a hundred times. It is for my secret birthday present." He
smiled at the comment.  Ronnie had told him we were doing it to treat the
concrete. I am a good liar, but Jason weaseled the truth out of me very
easily, it is his gift.
	"I fell asleep when I got home. It was a long night after the
concert and call before that." I begged god for him to believe me.
	"Right. Did you have a date?" He didn't buy it.
	"No, just tired. Why don't you ever believe me?" I tried to rescue
myself.
	"Because I know you're lying. We drove by your apartment and you
were go-go-gone." He smiled knowing he had caught me. "You had a date,
didn't you? And is it possible…you broke the multi-year draught and got
lucky?"
	"No. I mean. It hasn't been that long!" I knew it had been that
long, but I tried to side track the conversation buy changing the subject.
	"Who was it?" Failed! He was not going to let go. "Was it that
surgery intern? I know I have gotten he vibe from him."
	"No, it was nobody, really." I was sunk, he was worse than a pit
bull about not letting go once he got a bite.
	"Fine, don't tell your best friend in the world. I mean why should
you? I'm sure you have your reasons for lying to me." Strength, give me
strength I wanted to yell. I would be strong, at that moment I knew I had
to. It was more than my life on the line here. I would withstand his
torture, I would.
	"Do you do a scan on that lady with a lung tumor this morning." I
said it slowly, emphasizing each word. That was my code for drop it, his
returning smile was his code for I will find out.
	"Yeah, she came through about ten. Lung cancer, probably squamous."
He picked up the pimento cheese sandwich he had packed for lunch. He glared
at me, his temporary, he was sure, set back irritated him.
	"Is that the official word?" I continued the conversation, already
planning my next defense.

	After lunch I went to the ICU to see the guy I put in the night
before last. I had been too distracted and not seen him yesterday. I was
surprised, they had not called me to see him in a professional capacity, he
probably needed a scope to look in his lungs and assess the damage, but I
should not have been as Dr.  Gradechi was a pulmonologist, or lung
specialist, himself.
	Walking in the ICU most people are assaulted with the noises and
flashing lights. It is a place where you have to know which sounds to pay
attention to and which ones to ignore. I was able to skip past most of the
people in power, not wanting to upset anyone, and slip right up to the
fireman's room.  I suddenly could not remember his name, until I saw his
face that is. Aaron, that was it. I could not forget that cute mug. He was
still on a ventilator, but I saw he had been taken off the liquivent. He
was probably doing very well. I looked over him and for some reason became
aware of him embarrassing it is for the victims of modern medicine. We
expose you to the world and poke and prod every orifice and make a few more
of them while we are at it.
	I looked at the various monitors and readouts. Numbers flashed in
their own synchronicity and displayed information that really is a mystery
to all but the privileged few, and even among them it is rare to find
someone who could put it all together. I liked to think of myself as one of
those who could at least glimpse the truth behind the deluge of
information, but then again maybe I was just fooling myself.
	I turned to leave and smacked right into Juan.
	"Hey man. Que pasa?" I threw at him.
	"Don't give me your white man's Spanish. Next you'll be asking
where Taco Bells is!" The humor in his voice lifted the general depressed
mood of an ICU room. He was from Spain, and therefore a Spanish elitist
when it came to the language. I think he referred to Mexico as a bastard
country on one occasion or another.
	"Chill man, I was just seeing how my guy was doing." I glanced over
my shoulder.
	"Well, your guy kept me up for most of the night. We took him off
the machine last night and went conventional. He didn't like it much at
first; he finally cooled off about three. He has been riding high since
then." Juan looked tired when he relaxed. "Damn Gradechi, he decided to do
all this about nine last night."
	"Well, he is one of those guys with nothing better to do, hence no
skin off his back to stay up here.  No sleep for Juan, or no daddy for
little Juan." I referred to Juan's son, his name was William, but he has
always been referred to as little Juan. Medicine is not often perceived as
such, but it is a good place to hide for people who have no life. Someone
can immerse themselves in a practice and not come up for air; it lets you
forget there is nothing at home for you. I knew all to well.
	"I can never believe that his wife would allow him to do such."
Juan seemed to gain a little energy back in his fuming against his boss. He
was mentally comparing Gradechi's wife to his own. You see, Juan's wife
Erryn, red headed Irish born lawyer. Not only was she ten years older than
him, but also she was notorious in town as the one person you would never
want to find yourself in court with. She could make the keenest
congressional whip feel like he was an insignificant worm.  It brought
wonderful thoughts of their sex life to most of the parties and bars where
residents gathered.
	"Well, take them like you get them I suppose. I have to finish
rounding and get out of here." I suddenly felt tired as well. "Long night
catching up with me." I remembered what happened during my long night and
perked up again.
	"Hey, there were a bunch of firemen in this morning at visiting
hours. They were asking if you were around." He called to me as I had
turned to walk out.
	"I will see if they're in the waiting room. They say what they
wanted?" I looked back at him.
	"They wanted to talk to you about his condition. They felt like you
might tell them the truth." He smiled.
	"What did Gradechi tell them?" It was his usual place to talk to
the families.
	"They said he was a pompous ass, to his face." Juan smiled
more. "He was not amused."
	"How did you manage not to laugh?"
	"It was not easy, my friend. It was not easy!" Now he laughed, as
did a couple of nurses in the hall who had been eaves dropping.
	I finished the rest of the day as I had done the first. Put
recommendations on the management of a few more patients with some lung
diseases. I got the final report on the CT scan of one of the patients, it
seems that she had a lung tumor, most likely a cancer. Sure we would biopsy
it to make a definite diagnosis, but with her history of smoking two packs
of cigarettes a day for forty years it kind of put a bulls eye on the
diagnosis. Now I would have to go and tell her. This was the worst part of
the job, really. Telling someone that they will die is a very potent way of
depressing your whole day.
	I walked into the room after locating it in the maze of the
wards. It was dim at best in the small room. A university hospital is never
as nice as a room in a private hospital; at least she was alone in the
room.
	"Ms. Allen?" I asked softly as I was not sure she was awake. The TV
shed a little light that danced across her face in the room. It made it
hard to see if here eyes were open.
	"Mrs. Allen!" She spoke up.
	"I am sorry ma'am. " I can't help it I am a southern gentleman.
	"That is alright. How may I help you?" He face seemed very alive,
as did her eyes. She reached and turned on the desk lamp and turned off the
TV.
	"Hi, I am Dr. James. I am one of the lung doctors that they asked
to come and see you." I tried to make my attitude as benevolent as
possible; I try to project an appearance of knowledge, wisdom even.  My age
sometimes gets in the way; at least I am not sixteen as many older people
always tell me. Young people want older doctors, someone who knows what
they are doing. Old people want young doctors, someone with new idea on
keeping them alive.
	"Yes, they told me you would come by. Please sit down. I believe
you were coming to tell me about that silly X-ray." In the light I could
make out that she was in her sixties, an African American woman. Her eyes
were full of life. I told you I love eyes, and this woman made me feel for
her. I think when I realized this I remembered why I had come; my
expression must have given me away.
	She started chuckling when I was sitting down.
	"I am sorry. What is so funny? Do I have my fly open?" I laughed
back.
	"No, no, young man. I just could see in your expression that you
think you have bad news." She reached to the bag next to he and pulled out
a colorful afghan she was knitting.
	"Really?"
	"Oh, I have been expecting for a while this cough was the harbinger
of ill intent." She was definitely more educated than out usual clientele
here, sad but true. Her eyes never lost the spark while she said it.
	"Actually, Mrs. Allen, I do have some bad news. The CT scan, the
fancy x-ray, showed that there is a mass, or a tumor in your lung. It looks
like it is probably going to be cancer." I waited and let it sink in.
	She started to laugh. Not exactly the response I had expected.
	"You silly boy. I do not have cancer." She still giggled and it was
strange. She did not sound like the person who is in denial, they simply
deny the truth, she sounded convinced.
	"Mrs. Allen, I am sorry to tell you this but the location of the
mass, the way it looks on the scan combined with your smoking really points
to most likely thing being it is cancer." I tried to sound earnest.
	"That may be right, but I don't have cancer." She started
crocheting, waiting a moment then continuing. "When I was a little girl my
grandmother told me how I would die and it was not from cancer."
	I thought I understood now. Some cultures believe in strange
things, I had seen people pray over the ill and do a voodoo exorcism over
patients; you have to respect people's beliefs. The mental will to live is
just as important as any drug we give, maybe more.
	"Yes, I understand." I said.
	"You most certainly do not! Don't patronize me. My grandmother, she
was a powerful seer. She could look into a man's soul and tell him his
fate. One man once threatened her told her she stole something from his
store, she whispered into his ear and he fell over from a heart attack."
She calmed from the initial excitement of her statement. "I understand your
skepticism. I am not an uneducated sop. I did four years at Dartmouth in
classic English lit, one of the first black women there! But I know that
sometimes what we can't explain can be very powerful none the less." She
curved a glance at me.
	"Mrs. Allen, I do believe what your saying, but we have to face
facts. You have a mass in your lung and we need to biopsy it so we can
start treatments to see if we can give you some more time. It doesn't seem
to have spread but the location makes it inoperable. Wouldn't you like to
spend some more time with your family out of this place?"
	Her gaze never faltered. "I have no family to go to, my husband
died a number of years ago, my son in Vietnam." She continued to work on
her craft. "I don't need a biopsy.  It is not cancer."
	I was not getting anywhere with this. "Why did you come to the
hospital if you don't want treatment?"
	"To die." She smiled as she said it.
	"But you just said that you don't have cancer, how do you think you
are going to die?" I was getting exasperated with the conversation. I
needed to take a break and come back.
	"Young man you pretend at being a doctor, you should know there is
a lot more than cancer that can kill someone." She scooted over in bed and
patted it beside her feet.  "Don't go just yet. Let's talk a moment."
	I moved over to the bed. I looked at her; her warmth relaxed the
moment a little.
	"My grandmother, told me I would die in a hospital, she said I
would be taken care of by a handsome young doctor. I knew it had to be you
when you walked in." She snickered at that and I could tell blushed, as did
I. "She also told me he would be troubled, trapped in a world he created
around him."
	"You're making this up." I said, but it hit home more than I wanted
to admit.
	"She had the gift, my mother had the gift, and I have a bit of it
as well."  She adjusted the blanket on her bed self-consciously.
	"Really, you see peoples fate, preordination in their lives. I find
it a little hard to believe, I have always thought fate is what we make of
our lives." I was getting into talking to her.
	"You have been watching to many movies. Fate is a guiding light; it
gives opportunity, opportunity for growth, for love, for life. Destiny is
only a destination; life is how we get there. Take you for instance. You
have built yourself into this world of hard facts and scientific
minutia. You are building a shell around yourself, to protect your feelings
from the loneliness you feel. Watch yourself, you are turning into the very
thing you ridicule in other people."
	My conversation about Gradechi came slamming back to me. Mrs. Allen
saw she hit a nerve.
	She continued before I could speak. "Now fate intervenes, you have
let yourself imagine a part of life that is fun and open to possibility,
something we often lose as we grow old. That bit of your imagination has
reached out for you; the possibility of love tickles you from afar. It is
cloaked by the actions of others who will grow to care for you as well."
She took a deep breath. "Now you must decide, are you going to take the
offered hand? It is not going to grab you and pull. You must reach for it,
and hold on."
	"Your should write fortune cookies or horoscopes." My comment took
her by surprise.
	"I get that sometimes." She was quiet.
	"So, what is the goal, do I get true love, love that will last
forever?  Sounds a little clichéd."  I stood back up. I think she had
tried to snooker me, as we say in the south.
	"Love permeated the world, binds us together. If you can find true
love, and hold on to it, it is hard work after all, then you have what
makes it all worth while." She pinched me, "luminous beings are we, not
this crude matter! How is that for your movie reference?" She lay back and
crossed her arms. "I have spent my whole life helping people. I was in
Arkansas picketing bigotry, I have been to the rainforest to stop slash and
burning, I once met Diana to stop landmines. Now this is my last time to
help someone before I lay down and rest." She held her arm out to me. "The
hand of is offered all you have to do is…"
	"Reach for it?" I spoke softly.
	"Exactly!" She clapped her hands together once excitedly.
	"I tell you what, why don't you let us take that biopsy tomorrow?
I'll listen to anything you say if it is not cancer."
	"Hardheaded? It will get you in trouble someday." She sighed. "I
counter your offer, if I don't have cancer, you have to promise me you will
take the plunge, balls to the wall, head first go for the hand and hold on
tight. Don't worry you'll know when!" She looked expectantly.
	"OK. I promise." I left the room and headed home. I had really did
not think about our conversation, by this time I was emotionally drained
and not to mention sleep deprived.

	I got home and had to drag myself upstairs. Grinch was there, tail
wagging to greet me, he nearly bowled me over when I reached to pet him. I
made time to sit down and play with him. He had been way from me for nearly
twenty-four hours. I had only stopped briefly to shower this morning, but I
had not spent any quality time with my housemate. My downstairs neighbor,
and landlord, Mrs. Wrigly, walked him regularly. She was old and walked in
the morning and night to stay healthy. She was, however, afraid to walk by
herself in our neighborhood (why not I don't know). So she would walk with
Grinch, it kept his muscles lean so his eighty-five pounds, I could brag
was all killer, no filler.
	I scratched him behind his ears, and rubbed his stomach for a few
minutes before I stripped for a shower. I turned on the hot water and moved
back into the bedroom. The comforter on the bed was in disarray, not from
me not making it up, but Grinch pretty much decided where he would sleep
and it was usually in my bed. He had a strong nesting instinct for a boy,
hence his carefully pulling the covers into a pile when I am not there.
	I saw the message light blinking on the answering machine; I knew
it was Jason. He would want to know how I was doing, when was I coming over
to help with the carpet, and by the way, who did you sleep with last night?
I chose not to check it, to spare myself the agony.
	I took off the scrubs I had worn to work and stood in my boxer
briefs. I looked into the vanity mirror and saw my stocky form. I was not
fat; I had definition. I should have been a football player. It would have
been difficult looking at all of those guys in jocks straps though. Anyway,
I knew I was some kind of tight end.
	I chuckled at my own joke as I took off my boxers and walked to the
shower.  I stepped on the cloths I had worn last night. I was too excited
to throw then in the hamper on my way in this morning. I climber into the
shower, freshly reminded of my night before. It took no time at all for me
to feel my erection coming on strong. I thought about the strong masculine
scent Joey had. I almost felt his arms encircling me again as I found
myself stroking my hard on. I thought about the feel of the silky head of
his cock in my mouth and the taste of his semen as it rushed out into my
waiting mouth. I came when I had the last thought. I don't know if it was
the orgasm or the fatigue but I nearly fell out. I caught myself on the
towel rack. I stood back up shaking it off. I finished the shower and dried
off. I fell into the comforting warmth of my bed not even waiting to put
some boxers on. I thought, here I was sleeping two nights in a row
naked. Only tonight my sleeping companion was hairy and was licking my
face, wait that was the same as last night.
	I can't remember my whole dream. I only can place being in a
rowboat in the middle of a calm placid lake. I don't know who was in the
boat with me, just that I fell out.  I was drowning, which made no sense
because I can swim very well, but that is how dreams are. The other guy, I
know it was a guy, in the boat held out his hand to me, trying to grab
me. I was swimming, my hand reaching for theirs, only they handed me a
phone?
	I woke up with the echo of a ringing in the room. I had the handset
of the Mickey Mouse phone next to my bed (bite me! I've had it for years!)
in my hand. I looked at it like it was a snake for a moment, not
remembering picking it up. I heard a voice on the other end.
	"Hello" I managed to squeak out through my hazy of sleep.
	"Tim? What are you asleep?" The voice sounded amused. It had a
strange accent sounding both foreign and familiar. "It is like eight
o'clock at night. You are a grandpa!"
	"I didn't get much sleep last night. I am freaking' tired, I hope
this is good." I tried to sound angry, but it did not quite work. To tired.
	"Neither did I! You don't hear me complaining, of course I slept
most of the day on the bus." I heard a jovial twinge to the voice; I hate
that when I am half awake. I hated even more I was coming more awake.
	"Listen and get to the point! I am waking up and I don't want to. I
most likely will not remember in the morning away.
	"You remember this morning don't you?" the voice prodded.
	"Yes!" I hissed. Wait. "Who is this?"
	"Oh, how soon they forget! I thought I would be at least memorable
for a week, but no. One night stand forever." He moaned in sorrow.
	"Joey?" I was wide-awake.
	"Bingo Tiger. Didn't you get my message on your machine I would be
calling later?"
	"No I didn't check it. Ah…Sorry about this morning! I had to get
to work and you looked so peaceful sleeping." I suddenly felt a twinge of
guilt for leaving him like that this morning.
	"No biggie, I would have probably been just like you were now if
you had woken me up." He stopped and it got quiet on the line, he seemed to
be deciding on something, or maybe talking to someone.
	"Joey?" I wondered if something had happened to the connection.
	"Yeah, I'm here. Listen I was wondering if you wanted to fly up to
see me and the guys in Atlanta this weekend? We are going to be in town for
a few days on some publicity thing and we don't know anyone in town so we
were thinking you might like to come with?" He really seemed pressured.
	"I don't know. I mean last night was fun, I really, really had a
good time, but when I think about the rest of the guys I don't know if I am
up for it." I tried to sound diplomatic.
	"Listen, I know you are referring to Lance. He is really sorry for
saying that crap, and he was one of the ones who suggested we have you come
up. And before you give me some cock and bull story about having to work,
you already told me you were off on the weekend." The line went silent
again. "Tim please it would mean a lot to al of us if you gave us the
chance to make up for the asses we made of ourselves. I know you had a good
time with us, and it would be fantastic in Atlanta. Come on!" I could
picture those puppy dog eyes already in my mind.
	"I would have to get a ticket on short notice, have someone take
care of my dog. I don't know?"
	"Already have the ticket waiting for you at the counter there for
you.  Surely someone can walk your dog for you while your gone." He was
being pushy now.
	"I can't let you buy me a ticket." I tried to back out.
	"Listen, I already told you that we want you to come up. Ticket is
already paid for with skymiles, no refund if you don't use it. So you're
sort of obligated. I will be waiting for you Friday afternoon when the
plane lands in Atlanta. It leaves there at 3:30pm. I will be really
disappointed if you don't show. Bye, bye, bye, bye." He added the last so
he could hang up before I could say no.  I reached over and looked at the
caller ID to call him back. It just said "Blocked".  "Bastard!"  I could
not get back to sleep until about midnight.


	I walked through the day that morning. I was in a haze again, only
this time it was indecision. I looked in on all of my patients, so that by
noon I was nearly finished and I had decided not to go to Atlanta.  It
really was hard, but I knew it was the right choice. This whole thing with
NSync was built on idolizing people. It would not be healthy to live like
that, better to live in the dream than to find reality not living up.
	The last person I visited was Mrs. Allen. I had deliberately put
her off for last, so I could psych myself up for the sparing match with
her. I found her room now, this time by memory rather than going into the
nurses' station. I walked in and again the lights were dim and the TV was
on. I turned on the overhead light.
	"Mrs. Allen?" In the sudden brilliance I nearly yelled.
	Instead of Mrs. Allen, there was a rotund white man; his nametag
said his name was Murray.
	"Excuse me sir." I walked back out of the room mumbling something
about having the wrong room.
	I walked back up to the nurses' station, waiting on someone to come
available so I could speak to them. Finally a nurse named Candy, turned to
me.
	"Can I help you sir?" She did not like her job, it was obvious.
	"Yes, I was looking for Mrs. Allen's room, I got lost and walking
in on some guy." She had a look of recognition on her face.
	"Right room, Mr. Murray, wrong patient." She looked down at a
list. "Yes she was moved this morning.
	"Where I need to see her." I was tired of waiting, she kept
checking the list over and over, and finally turning to another page, she
saw her answer.
	"She was moved to the morgue." She looked up happy to have found
the information but confused with the shocked look in my face.
	"She died?"
	"Yes, on the night shift."
	I went down to the morgue, out of morbid curiosity I suppose. I
wanted to know if they had done a post mortem, an autopsy. The cancer had
killed her; I was just surprised how fast.
	On arriving to the pathology department I saw a classmate of mine
form med school.
	"Hey Tina. Do you know a Angelette Allen, came in last night?"  I
looked at Tina; she must have seen the pain in my eyes.
	"Yes, we completed the post on her an hour ago."  She gave that
concerned look. "Your patient?"
	"No, I was consulted on her. Do you have any idea what the path on
the lung cancer was?" I looked at my shoes, a nervous habit.
	"She didn't have cancer! The thing in her lung was a leiomyoma. It
was benign, probably been there for years. She died of a heart attack,
massive probably didn't feel a thing." The response she blurted out slapped
me.
	My mind raced. I could not believe it, she was right the whole
time. She didn't have cancer. I walked in a daze back up to the floor. I
saw the chief resident of our department coming towards me with a paper
wrapped bag.
	"Tim, did you know a patient Mrs. Allen?" Tessa spoke to me; I
don't think I was processing information very well.
	"Yeah, I just saw she died." I some how answered.
	"Well, she left this with one of the nurses to give to you. Told
her to hold on to it might get stolen from her room." She handed the
package over to me.
	I opened the package. Inside was a colorfully crocheted afghan. The
pattern was a Celtic symbol.  The claddagh, a heart clasped by two hands. A
note was pinned to the blanket. It had a simple message. It was clear.
	"Tessa, I have to leave now. It is an emergency!" I looked at my
watch.
	"What's wrong Tim? Where are you going?" She yelled to me as I sped
down the hall.
	"I have a promise to keep, I have to reach for it!" I had a plane
to catch.

More to Come

Comments always welcome nate_eric@hotmail.com