Hector's Experimental Treatment

Last night I drove the one hundred miles to Dartmouth to visit Hector while he’s receiving the experimental treatment for his cancer.  During the drive I kept hoping that he’d have gained weight, but when I got there he greeted me as gaunt as ever.  After he let me into his room at the Marriot Residence Inn, a small suite with a tiny kitchenette and carpet that made you wonder who the hell designs the patterns for carpets, he sat down on the couch with frail movements, like someone decades older.  “I’ve been staring at these pills for over an hour,” he said.  Two small pink pills lay on a napkin on the coffee table.  He explained that they were pain killers, and that the doctors told him that all the stories about them being highly addictive weren’t true.  He didn’t like taking them, though, and usually waited too long before downing them.  His doctors had spoken to him about that.

I tried my best during the visit to play Upbeat Chris.  “Hey, man, you hungry?  It’s on me.  What can I get you?”  I haven’t been around many sick people, so I wondered what attitude to project, what would lift his spirits.  I kept reminding myself to undercut it.  Nobody likes Obnoxiously Upbeat Guy.  Maybe Upbeat Chris helped.  I don’t know.  At least I was able to get his laptop online, which he was happy about.

We talked about writing, mostly.  I’d brought him three books on writing, a couple by Nancy Kress and another with writing exercises.  He said he was happy with the books because they’re broken up into short chapters, which is his speed these days.  One of his friends, a guy named Joe Hill, just got his first collection of shorts published.  Hector loves them.  I told him about my correspondence with James Patrick Kelly and it turns out they’ve met.  Jim did a book signing at Jumpgate.  Hector said that signing was truly memorable, first off because it’s the only one that nobody showed up for, but also because James Patrick Kelly handled it like a consummate pro, still doing a reading as if the room was packed.  I thought back to how I didn’t run the episode of the Buffy RPG for the Halloween Bash because no one had signed up.  Yet another moment I wished for keys to a time machine.  Seeing him there like that, the last thing I wanted to imagine was that I’d disappointed him.  

After we ate the take-out we chatted for a while about the store and his plans for it, and after four hours he needed to take some more pills and get some rest.  As I was leaving I pressed him to email me when he got home and set up a regular time each week for me to visit.  I hope it works out.