From Ant to Eagle(37)

I closed the book and put it under my bed then grabbed the copy of Cuckoo Clock of Doom and started reading. At least if Sammy had nightmares it wouldn’t be because of me. It was my way of protecting him, or protecting myself, one of the two. It was my start to being a better brother.





CHAPTER 23

TRYING TO SLEEP IN A HOSPITAL IS LIKE TRYING TO FIND A FOUR-leaf clover with your eyes closed, which is ironic because Dad always said sleep was the best medicine. Needless to say, when Day Two rolled around, I was anything but keen to jump out of bed.

The sun lit our hospital room like it was hanging from the ceiling; I covered my head with my pillow. There was no quilt to block the morning sun. I was still half asleep when I heard Dr. Parker’s voice.

“Good morning, boys. You awake in here? I’ve got something I want to show you.”

Here’s a little fact I learned in the hospital: doctors and nurses don’t sleep. I pulled my head from under the pillow and looked at the clock—eight am.

Sammy was already awake and sitting up. “What is it?” he asked.

“It’s my newest magic trick,” Dr. Parker replied, turning on the light and pulling Sammy’s bedside table to the centre of the room. He set three red cups upside down on it. “All right, can you both see?”

I sat up in my cot and nodded.

“Okay, what I’ve got here are three, perfectly normal, plastic cups.” He lifted all three, one-by-one, showing us what looked like three very ordinary cups. “And what was underneath them, Sammy?”

Sammy looked confused. “Umm…nothing?”

“Correct. Except that if I take this magic wand from my pocket and tap each cup once, look what happens.” He took a wand from his white coat pocket and tapped each cup lightly on top then returned the wand. As he lifted each cup again, a small red ball appeared underneath.

“Wow!” Sammy said, his eyes wide with disbelief as he looked over at me.

Dr. Parker replaced the cups over the red balls and continued, “Now, wouldn’t it be great if we could make these red balls turn into something bigger, like basketballs?”

Sammy’s eyes grew even wider. “Yeah!”

“I wish I could but I can’t,” Dr. Parker said with a smirk. “Basketballs wouldn’t fit under these cups, now would they?”

“No,” Sammy said with a frown, his eyes now returning to their regular size.

“I’m afraid that I’m stuck with these plain red balls,” Dr. Parker said, faking disappointment as he lifted each cup again, this time revealing three baseballs.

Sammy let out a squeal. “They’re…they’re changed into baseballs!”

Dr. Parker looked down, then shot Sammy a look of surprise.

“So they are! Amazing! And here I thought I’d be stuck with those plain red balls forever.” After a moment of inspecting the baseballs he looked back up. “And would you look at this! This one’s signed by someone on the London Hurricanes. It says, ‘To Sammy, Get Well, Mike Ribbon #23.’”

He tossed the ball onto Sammy’s bed then grabbed the second ball. “And this one is signed: ‘To Cal, Help Him Through It, Mike Ribbon #23.’”

He tossed me the ball and I caught it.

“What about the last one?” Sammy asked.

“This one doesn’t seem to have anything on it,” he said, looking it over. “I guess I’ll keep that one.”

Dr. Parker put the cups and remaining baseball into his pocket and returned the table. “Since I’m here I might as well give you the once-over. Better make sure your head is still attached,” Dr. Parker said, as he felt the front and back of Sammy’s neck. The nurse had done the same thing the day before only she had said she was looking for knots or something like that. “And I’ll make sure your heart is still beating.” He pulled out his stethoscope and listened for a while over Sammy’s chest. “Yep, good news, it’s still beating. And lastly, I better make sure you have the right number of fingers.” He took Sammy’s hand and began counting. “One, two, three, four, six. Hmm, looks like you have too many. I guess we’ll have to remove one. Let’s see, which one is your least favourite?”

Sammy looked startled. “No! One, two, three, four, five!” he protested, counting each of his fingers for Dr. Parker to see.

“Are you sure?” Dr. Parker asked.

“Yes. Right, Cal?” Sammy said, turning to me.

I laughed. Sammy was so gullible. “Right.”

“If you say so. I’ll tell the nurses we don’t need the finger clippers after all.”

Sammy looked relieved.

Dr. Parker winked at me then walked over to the bed where Mom was sitting. She hadn’t said a word.

“We’ll be giving Sammy a different chemotherapy today.”

“Is it dauna-something?” she asked.

“That’s right—Daunarubicin. And then Etoposide tomorrow. After that, we’ll wait a few days for his body to recover, then do it again.”

“So that will be Cycle One?”

“Correct. We’ll do three cycles—twenty-seven days in total. During the week we meet every morning with the rest of the oncology team and go through all your questions. Since it’s a weekend you only get me. Any questions?”