Take Me By The Hand

Twenty-Four

It's nearly 5:30 in the evening when the car pulls into the small parking lot. It's not quite the attractive center that Atlantic City advertises-- The brightly lit condos, buzzing casinos, and clean beaches-- but more of a suburb of the larger area. An average sized building is laid out before us, surrounded by houses and trees and pavement, with a plain white sign that indicates this is Atlantic Medical Clinic.

When the engine turns off and Gerard begins climbing out of the car, my heart immediately stutters. It's time. This is the moment I've been dreading. I have to force myself out of the car, but that's as far as I get before panic sets in. I can't move my legs, I can't even breathe. Suddenly it's like every part of my body has stopped working besides my mind which is racing with anxious thoughts.

Gerard appears at my side. "Are you ready?"

"No," I admit before biting down on my lip. "But standing here staring at the sign isn't going to give me any answers."

Not even ten minutes later, Gerard and I are sitting in a miniature waiting room with an elderly couple and a woman who is attempting to calm her fussing toddler. I watch the ugly blue carpet, studying the stains and trying to get my pounding heart to slow down.

When the large white doors are pushed open, a doctor revealing himself on the other side and calling my name, I have the sudden urge to throw up and sprint from the building. But then my horrified gaze meets Gerard's calm expression and I take a deep breath. Standing up, I hesitate. I don't want to go. I don't want to know if I have cancer because I'm terrified of what the results may be. 

"Do you want me to come back with you?" Gerard asks and, almost without thinking, I nod. More than anything right now, I don't want to be alone. It's calming just to feel Gerard's presence beside me as we're led through the blinding white halls into a tiny room. It feels too small suddenly, crammed into the room with this stranger, and I quickly latch onto Gerard's hand with my own. And then, just as quickly, I realize my actions and pull away. Gerard glances over at me and I look down, shifting my weight and focusing my attention on my Converse.

"Frank, correct?" The doctor, who I just now take the time to look at, smiles. He looks young, with slightly tousled brown hair and smooth skin. He's the epitome of every Dr. Sexy ever created, but I can't focus on that right now.

It takes all I have to nod. "Yes."

"Please, sit." He motions to the table behind me, the uncomfortable brown cot beckoning me with it's crinkly white covering and metal stool. I abide, clasping both of my hands and bouncing my knee anxiously. "I'm Dr. Webb." I don't reply, not sure exactly what he expects me to say. "What brings you here today? The paper you filled out says you want blood work done...?"

He leaves the statement open, making it into a question, and I glance at Gerard for help. Oh god, how am I supposed to explain this? But Gerard just smiles and speaks up. Suddenly I feel like I'm a kid again, asking my mom to tell the doctor how sick I was.

"A few days ago, our friends convinced Frank to take a pregnancy test," Gerard explains smoothly, no hesitation in his words at all. "We all thought it was a joke at first, but then the test came out positive." Doctor Webb just nods without a word, his pen hovering above the paper that he holds as if he's prepared to take notes. "And then someone told us that a positive result could be a sign of cancer."

Doctor Webb nods again, his gaze moving to me. "That's true," He says. "Pregnancy tests measure human chorionic gonadotropin, or HCG. It's a hormone that's released when an egg is fertilized for reproduction. When pregnancy isn't a factor, such as this case, HCG can signal us to other causes. Testicular cancer is a rather common cause." I bite down on my lip, trying not to freak the fuck out. Hearing it from someone in his position, someone medically trained in this field, is terrifying. It seems too real.