Finding Jaime

Chapter 98

We sat, once again, in Dr. Jansen's office. Meagan on one side of my son, holding his hand, me, on his other side, sitting close in case the news wasn't good.

Jaime had been having some headaches that were concerning us, and he'd recently had a scan to see if his tumour was gone. If it was, he'd be cancer free. If it wasn't, we had decisions to make.

Dr. Jansen was looking through Jamie's file, his recent history, and his latest scans. His face showed no emotion. He was probably well practiced at this.

Finally, he closed the file, put his glasses on top and looked between the three of us. He interlaced his fingers and put his hands on Jaime's file.

And then he smiled.

"I am happy to report that there is no sign of any regrowth. The margins where we removed the tumour are still clear. There's no sign of metastasis or any other malignancies.

Jaime, I can officially say that you're cancer free," he smiled at the three of us.

Meagan's hand was to her mouth as tears formed in her eyes. Both of us were teary-eyed. I looked at Jaime. He was looking... stoic. Defiant. I wondered if he'd heard the doctor.

"Jaime?" I said. A tear fell from his eye.

"It's gone?" He asked, his voice more of a whisper than the strong voice that had argued with me just that morning about chores.

Dr. Jensen smiled.

"It would seem that way. We're seeing nothing on any of your scans, your markers are clear and your bloodwork is great.

I'll want to see you again in six months for another scan and we'll see from there, but I can officially declare you cancer free. Congratulations, Jaime.  I know hit was a rough road. You fought hard. Go enjoy the rest of the day with your family. I'll see you in six months."

"But what about the headaches?" Meaga asked.

"Jaime, how's your headache today?" Dr. Jensen asked.

"I'm fine. I'm okay. No headache," Jaime said.

"Keep an eye on him in that regard. If they get worse or more frequent, if they make him throw up, contact my office. I suspect though, that these headaches were mostly caused by stress. I'm sure you were worried about this appointment, were you, Jaime?"

"Yeah. Some. I thought you'd tell me I had to start chemo again. Or worse."

"What's worse than chemo?" I asked.

"Dying," Jaime said, bluntly. I was speechless. But couldn't deny he was right.

We thanked Dr. Jensen and the three of us left the office. Jaime was quiet.

Outside in the hallway, Meagan grabbed Jaime and pulled him into a hug. My son wrapped his arms around Meagan and sobbed into her.

"Hey," she said. "What's this?"

"Nothing," Jaime said. 

I pulled both of them into a hug.

"We have to celebrate," I said, wiping my eyes. "Dinner tonight, at the usual, but this, this calls for a party."

"I don't need a party," Jaime said, still holding on to Meagan.

"Maybe you don't, but we've had one hell of a ride and you've fought so hard to get better. You had a rough go. I want to celebrate you."

Jaime didn't say anything. He just smiled at me. I pulled off his beanie and ruffled his hair.

"You're going to need a haircut soon," I smirked. Jaime's hair had grown back but was still pretty short. He had maybe three inches of growth.