Though Norm's words left me feeling worthwhile, nothing would alter the course of their sincerity and eventual pain which he would feel simply due to their actual existence in his mind. "I just wish you'd start to get better." I just wished I could oblige.
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Chapter 33 Treatments / Hoax
"What if…?"
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Treatments / Hoax
Amid the rising flood of new treatments and landmark cures which lapped temptingly at our doorstep, I began to wonder if any supposed cure really honored its name. I was tired of the restrictions which cancer had placed on me, and my interest toward alternative methods of treatment grew as rapidly as the size of my liver. I even questioned whether a liver transplant was a possibility, but was forever wary of the suffering involved; though I desired health, I would endure no drastic measures toward that end, and knew also, that most "possibilities" could never, for me, turn into a reality.
Though not actively pursuing articles, I would read or hear about the progress of various treatments as discovered by my parents; I was never surprised to learn that the drug or method in question was ineffective with my type of cancer; characteristically a slow grower, a leiomyosarcoma was also remarkably tough and resilient to the most terrifying of chemicals.
Not easily persuaded into the acceptance of hopelessness, however, Mom and Dad continued to inquire into the success of publicized drugs at their source. The more controversial forms of treatment were also investigated, and naturally their administrators claimed to have realized at least a modicum of success. Admittedly, the thought of undergoing treatment about which little was known seemed disconcerting, and a mere description of certain treatments nearly made my gums recede. One such method which sounded horrifyingly barbaric called for the boiling of one's blood; after it had been "purified," it would be routed back into the system once more. "If he lived…" I thought. However, I had been on the research file while undergoing chemotherapy, and it had been no delight either; no one of faltering strength could long tolerate its effects, although some individuals have been known to have received an injection on the day of their death. When man realigns his values, perhaps one day chemotherapy also will be thought of as barbaric and indeed, inhumane.
After countless suggestions and subsequent dead ends, we were given a new lead from a woman who worked at the church; a lead which, in her opinion, sounded quite promising. Quizzing her for every detail, my father immediately fell to gathering phone numbers, including past patients of the doctor and the number through which an appointment with the doctor could be made. A travel agency in California would set up the time of departure and also take care of every detail of the stay, from hotel accommodations to the treatment itself. Incidentally, the treatment was administered only in Greece.