"Grizzly Science" - Ch. 2

Author's Note:

I'm sorry for posting it a day late. I was intending to do it yesterday, but I just simply forgot. Hope people are enjoyig the story so far. :)

-Del'an/Gryphbear

Chapter 2

Half a year passed as Tech-Nol and each hospital in the capitals of all the USA coordinated their efforts to spread the benefits of nanotechnology. Hospitals were given a guideline of priorities who would receive nanotreatment. The guidelines specified that certain criteria had to be present as prioritized:

    
      1) Physical injuries that are too numerous to fix with surgery alone.

         i.e. Broken bones throughout the body that doctors cannot set.

            a) Missing limbs from an injury.

            b) Paralyzing Injuries.

      2) Terminal illnesses that are threatening the patient's life.

         i.e. Malignant and Benign Tumors/Masses throughout the patient.
            a) Blood disorders.

            b) Immune System disorders.

            c) Muscle Degenerative diseases.

      3) Patients between age 5 and twenty that suffer the above should come first.

     

They are our future.

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

It was the usual day for Grant at work. But lately, he'd been feeling more and more confined in his life -- his job had been acceptable for the last ten years, but the drudgery was starting to get to him.

He didn't know why, and he didn't really care anymore. The dreams hadn't changed -- they always recurred, but he couldn't remember exactly what he saw in the reflection whenever he woke up. But he could remember in perfect clarity the rest of the dream.

Lately it had started to seep into his waking mind that something was wrong. But it was a vague ache that didn't seem to illuminate him as to what.

Walking home, he stopped at the store-front window that he always passed on his way, and watched as the news started broadcasting.

"KTAD 51 News is bringing you the latest update..."

Grant sighed as the news repeated the same old crap that he had stopped watching the last few weeks. Snorting in disgust, he started making his way home again. To him, the world still remained the same -- in the crapper.
He scratched the underside of his beard, feeling his nerves bundled with tension. Grant hurried his steps toward his house, and then up the steps, carrying a box of cigars from the store. He had stopped there after work, to restock his supply.

He stopped at the front door, feeling winded all of a sudden. He frowned, as he tried to breathe deeply, then started coughing.

The coughing grew worse, as he felt phlegm at the back of his throat, making him double over, and try to expel it from his throat.

His hand suddenly was covered in blood. He blinked as dizziness roared in his ears, then blackness obscured his vision. Grant crumpled to the floor on his porch; the cigar box fell from nerveless fingers to the porch floor, and it's contents were scattered.

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

Grant groaned as his throat felt raw and painful. He lifted his hand to rub his throat, then paused, feeling something stuck in his hand. He opened his eyes, and grunted in puzzlement.

He was in a hospital? But... how did he get here? He gazed at his hand, which had a taped IV running into it. The last thing he remembered was he had gotten home, then had a coughing fit, and saw blood.

Grant focused inwardly. He must have passed out right after, and someone must have called 911 to have brought him here.

His next few thoughts was of work. How long had he been here? It had been a Friday after work before he had passed out. If it were still the weekend, he'd still have his job, provided he could get out of the hospital by Sunday night.

He wouldn't normally want to keep his job, but without it, he couldn't afford to live in his house.

He started to notice other details, that he was hooked up to an heart-rate machine, and was clothed in one of those big hospital gowns, and he rubbed his chest, feeling worried.

Several moments stretched into several minutes before a female nurse came into his room, then checked his chart. She smiled briefly at him, and said the doctor would be in a few minutes.

Grant didn't respond, as his mood had darkened somewhat since he woke up. He hated hospitals -- and especially doctors -- they always made him wait far longer than he had the patience. 

Thankfully he didn't have to wait long, as a doctor walked in, then picked up the chart, and scanned it over. He glanced at Grant with a genial smile on his face.

"Hello, Mr. Peterson, how are you feeling?"

Grant gazed at the doctor impassively, then shrugged. "I'm okay. Sore, though." He absentmindedly started rubbing his throat.

The doctor gazed at Grant with concern. "No wonder. You coughed up a fair bit of blood."

The grizzled man nodded. One question had come to mind, since he didn't know how he had gotten here.
"How did I get here?"

The doctor pulled up a nearby chair, seating himself in it before speaking. "A neighbor called 911 when she saw you collapse on your front porch, and an ambulance brought you here."

Grant gazed downward, crossing his arms the best he could with an IV in his hand. His gaze hardened, waiting for the bad news. "So...what's wrong with me, Doc?"

His chart was laid on his lap as he looked at his patient. Delivering bad news was something he hated to do.
"...I'm sorry to say this, but based on the battery of tests we did on you to diagnose your symptoms..."

He continued on, "... and your x-rays and blood tests showed indications of cancer. Lung cancer, specifically. Quite a few malignant tumors that are starting to group together inside your lungs, pushing against the airways."

Grant blinked in stunned silence. It was one thing to suspect it, but another thing to actually hear the truth. A tumult of emotions ran through his mind -- primarily confusion and numb shock was starting to set in.
"Oh."

The Doctor grew pensive for a moment, before speaking. "It appears that you probably won't have much longer -- it could be several weeks or months."

Grant's arms dropped from his chest to his sides. "...What do you recommend?"

The doctor frowned. "Ordinarily, I'd recommend chemotherapy and drugs, in addition to your quitting smoking...but I don't know if it'd work."

Grant scowled. He didn't want to quit smoking, nor did he want to go through all that crap with drugs and chemo.
He sighed, recognizing mule headed stubbornness. He tapped the chart with a free hand, and gazed at his patient. "There is another option -- I'm sure you're familiar with the new treatment that's come out in the last six months?"

Grant shrugged. "Not paid attention to it all, after the constant news on it. Why?"

The doctor hesitated before speaking. "I think you may benefit from it. That is, if you want it."

Grant rubbed his nose, feeling the slight bump, feeling defeated. He scowled half-heartedly. "I probably don't have much choice, do I?" He gazed down at his blanket, thinking to himself.

It was true that he had gotten more winded just going up the steps to his porch lately. Things that he found easy to do were now suddenly harder. Would this nanotreatment be so bad?

If he took it -- what would that mean for his life? Did it mean that he would still have to give up his cigars? Maybe this was the brink of a new start for him -- he had dreamed of traveling to Spain once.

Suddenly, hope flared to a small spark inside him.

Grant looked up at the doctor, his voice decisive. "I'll do it."

The doctor nodded, and stood up, pulling out a pen. He scribbled a note in the chart. "Good. I'll make an appointment."

Grant gestured outward with one hand. "When do I get out of here? What day is it?"

The doctor held the chart under one arm, and put his pen back in his pocket.

"You should be discharged in the morning. And it's Saturday evening..." He gazed at his watch. "...about seven p.m."

The doctor continued, "Please fill out a form for contact information when you sign out. A nurse will be in soon to help you settle in for the night. You may request an evening meal from her, if you wish."

He smiled, and nodded slightly, then left the room.

Grant sat there, still processing the news, and feeling scared. Yes, he had thought himself resigned to the fact that he would die anytime soon, but this wasn't the way he thought it would happen.

An accident, or something, sure, but...this?

He shook his head and rubbed his face with his hairy thick hands, and dropped them to his lap. He was rather tired. Perhaps he'd try some hospital food, then go to sleep.

The nurse appeared a few moments later, showing Grant how things worked, and to give him a menu of food choices to pick.

Grant scanned the menu, then picked the turkey sandwich meal with sugar and fat free chocolate pudding. The nurse thanked him with a polite smile, and took the menu with her.

The rest of the evening wore on rather slowly for him, and cravings for a cigar still bugged him, but he didn't see any other choice. He'd have to wait till tomorrow.

At least dinner was almost palatable for hospital food. He wolfed it down without even tasting it, and was surprised he hadn't ended up in the bathroom a half hour later.

He listlessly flipped the channels on the TV, his boredom making him itchy, along with feeling restless. He grimaced at all the channels they offered, and seeing absolutely nothing on.

In disgust, he jabbed the power button for the TV, turning it off, then putting the remote on the table next to him. He growled, seeing no other choice but to sleep, or at least try to sleep.

He slid his body down, feeling his naked butt rub against the bed sheet and sighed. At least he'd be able to sleep mostly nude... with a front covering. He spread his legs apart and settled down, quickly darting a hand under the covers to adjust himself.

Exhaling softly, he gazed at the ceiling, and tried to sleep. He closed his eyes, and started breathing in and out slowly, trying to relax his nerves.

It seemed like forever, but his mind and body finally succumbed to exhaustion again, into true slumber.
Then his dream came again.

[TBC]

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