Part 6

Inner Reflection | home

~Please, tell me this is not for real~

The tests were pretty much what Lance had expected. Dr. Becker tested his eyes, hearing and reflexes. She had him walk about the room heel to toe, then close his eyes and touch his nose. She then told him to close his eyes and asked him to identify some things by smelling them or holding them in his hands. These tests, and others similar, all seemed pretty normal to Lance. All the while Dr. Becker made notes on her chart.

"All right, Lance, you can lay back down now, if you'd like, " Dr Becker said. "I'm going to ask you some questions." Lance nodded and got into the bed, half sitting, half lying down.

"So Lance, what is today's date?"

"Uh, it's the fifteenth."

"The whole date Lance. Day, month, date, year."

"Oh, ok. It's Monday, April fifteenth, 2002."

"Good. And who is the president of the United States?"

"Good. Ok Lance, I'm going to give you a phrase, and you have to tell me what it means. Do you understand?"

"All right. Listen. 'A stitch in time saves nine'."

"Huh?" Lance looked puzzled.

"'A stitch in time saves nine'. What do you think that phrase means?"

"It's just...I don't know, it's just a stupid cliché, isn't it? Something that mothers say that doesn't really mean anything. Maybe, no wait." Lance stopped talking. For a minute he sat thinking. "I don't know, maybe it means to not waste time. Yeah. I think that's it."

"OK." She wrote something in the chart. "Now I'm going to list some things, and I'd like for you to repeat them in order. Do you understand?"

"OK, listen. Cup, bowl, window, mirror, book, lamp." She stopped and looked at him. "What did I say Lance?"

"Cup, window, uh, ball," Lance paused, trying to remember the things that she had said. He furrowed his brows in concentration "Um, book, cup and..." He stopped again, and looked at her. He bit his lip, then said "That was all, right?"

She did not respond. She continued writing in the chart. "What did you have for breakfast yesterday morning?"

Lance thought for a moment. "I don't know," he answered honestly.

"All right. Can you tell me what happened last Christmas?"

Lance looked a little stunned. "Why?"

"I want to see how far back you can remember."

Lance sighed. He remembered last Christmas. Even though he would have preferred to forget parts of it. JC's parents had said that he could come to celebrate the holiday, but only without Lance. And Lance was not to be mentioned, under any circumstances. JC had angrily refused. Lance had tried to call his parents to wish them a happy holiday, but they had hung up on him. All around, a lovely holiday.

"Josh and I stayed home. We tried to make turkey, but we ended up having spaghetti instead." Lance smiled a bit at the memory. "We gave each other rings. It was strange because it wasn't planned. We didn't tell each other, but we both bought rings." He began to unconsciously fiddle with the silver ring on his left hand. He stopped and looked at Dr. Becker. "There isn't much else to tell."

"All right Lance. That's all for now." She wrote something else in the chart before closing it.

"So, can I go home now?" Lance asked.

"No, I want to run some more tests. I'm going to schedule you for an MRI."

"A what?" Lance looked worried.

"It's like a scan of your head," she explained.

"Well, is that really necessary?"

"Dr. Becker, what's wrong with me?" Lance asked, trying to keep himself calm.

"I don't know yet, that's what the MRI is for."

"But you have an idea, right?"

"I'm not ruling anything out yet. You should get some rest. I'll be back when we're ready for you." A few minutes after she walked out of the room JC returned. He was carrying a paper bag.

"Hey," he said, leaning over and kissing Lance. Lance grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. JC put the bag down and sat on the bed, not breaking the embrace. He sat holding Lance and stroking his hair. "How'd it go," he asked softly.

"What were the tests?"

"My senses and reflexes and stuff like that. Then she asked me some questions."

"So, when can we leave?"

"She wants to do some scan thing."

"A scan thing?" JC pulled away to look at Lance.

"Yeah," Lance said, looking down. "Of my head."

JC didn't respond. Instead he grabbed the bag he had brought in the room. "So," he began, "I figured you haven't eaten in like, five hours, so I brought you some food." He pulled a soda, a turkey sandwich and a bag of chips from the bag.

Lance smiled brightly. "See? This is why I love you."

"This is why?" JC said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, among other things," Lance responded, grabbing his sandwich. JC smiled and grabbed one of his own from the bag and they settled down to eat in a companionable silence.

Lance had never in his life felt claustrophobic. Now, lying inside the MRI tunnel he was beginning to understand the fear. The combination of the closed off space, the noise that the machine was making, and Lance's nerves were making it hard for him to breathe.

"Just settle down, Lance," he heard Dr. Becker's voice saying. "We're just about done." Lance made a conscious effort to calm himself. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. 'It'll be over soon, then I can go home,' he told himself. 'It will be over soon. It will all be over soon.'

JC lay in Lance's hospital bed, reading a magazine he had found in the waiting room. It was an Entertainment Weekly which featured an interview with the group. JC laughed as he read a quote from Lance:

'JC is so passionate,' Lance had said. 'He's the most passionate person I know. He just cares so deeply, and gives of himself so completely.'

'So JC is really dedicated to music?' the interviewer had asked.

'Yeah, music. Right.' Lance had replied.

JC had laughed so hard when he had first seen that quote. The record company was not as amused.

JC looked up at a noise, and saw Lance being wheeled back into the room. Lance had really felt that the wheelchair was unnecessary, but they had insisted. He looked at JC on the bed and smiled. "Tired, Josh?"

"A bit," JC said, standing up. "So, are you done?"

Lance shrugged, as he stood up and then sat back down on the bed. He pulled JC down next to him and moved them so that they were both lying down. He lay his head on JC's chest. A few minutes later Dr. Becker entered.

"Well Lance, it's going to take a while for us to read the scans, so you can get out of here."

"Really?" Lance asked tentatively.

"Yes, really. I'll call you when we have the results."

Lance jumped up, reaching for his clothes, as if he was afraid that she would change her mind.

Lance and JC had gone home, showered and called the guys. They then decided to go out to dinner. It was around 6:30 when they were sitting in one of the secluded back booths of the restaurant, talking quietly. About the tour, about rehearsals. About everything but what had happened that day. JC, however, held Lance's hand underneath the table. He did not want to lose contact with his lover. They were waiting for the check when Lance's cell phone rang.

"Hello?" he said into the phone.

"It's Dr. Becker, Lance. I'd like you to come back to the hospital. We need to discuss the results of your MRI."

JC was watching Lance's face intently. He could have sworn that he saw Lance grow paler.

"All right. We'll be there in a little while. Yes. Thanks." He disconnected the phone.

When Lance did not speak immediately, JC asked "Lance, what is it?"

"Dr. Becker wants us to come back to the hospital to discuss my MRI."

"OK then, let's get out of here," JC said, signaling for the waitress.

Fifteen minutes later they were sitting in Dr. Becker's office. She sat looking at them solemnly, while JC and Lance waited anxiously. Lance felt like screaming at her, 'Just tell me what's wrong with me!' Finally, she spoke.

"Lance, I looked over you're MRI results with several of my colleagues. There is an abnormality."

"Abnormality?" Lance asked fearfully.

"Yes. From the MRI results and the results of your neurological exams we've come to a conclusion. Lance, you have a brain tumor."

Lance and JC sat stunned. Lance felt as if he had been punched in the gut. No, this couldn't be true. A tumor. No, he was just sick. It was a cold, and stress. A tumor in his brain. No. God, no.

"No, that can't be right. You have to be mistaken," Lance insisted.

"Lance, I'm sorry. The MRI confirmed my suspicions. From your symptoms and your neurological examination I suspected a tumor."

"Maybe it's a mistake," JC spoke up desperately, "Like a smudge on the film or something."

"I'm sorry, there is not mistake. Lance, you have a tumor in the frontal lobe of your brain. That is what caused your memory problems, mood swings and loss of your sense of smell. The seizure, vomiting, and headaches come from the increased pressure in your head because of the tumor. Lance, I know this is difficult for you. You're going to have to have surgery."

Lance and JC sat in shocked silence. "I know this is a lot to absorb right now. I'll leave you two alone for a while." She stood, and started to walk out. As she passed Lance she put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

JC turned to Lance. He was sitting, staring straight ahead. "Lance?"

Lance faced him slowly. His eyes were full of shock, fear, and pain. The emotions were reflected in JC's eyes.

"Why?" Lance asked, quietly.

JC didn't answer. He simply took Lance in his arms. Lance began to cry, his body trembling. JC felt tears well in his own eyes. He tried desperately to force them down. He had to be strong. He had to be there for Lance.

"Oh God! Why, Josh?" Lance sobbed against his shoulder.

That was all JC could take. He gave into his own tears, holding onto Lance desperately. "It'll be ok, baby. It'll be ok." He wished that he could believe his own words.


	Inner Reflection \| home back to But Faith Part 6 ~Please, tell me this is not for real~ The tests were pretty much what Lance had expected. Dr. Becker tested his eyes, hearing and reflexes. She had him walk about the room heel to toe, then close his eyes and touch his nose. She then told him to close his eyes and asked him to identify some things by smelling them or holding them in his hands. These tests, and others similar, all seemed pretty normal to Lance. All the while Dr. Becker made notes on her chart. "All right, Lance, you can lay back down now, if you'd like, " Dr Becker said. "I'm going to ask you some questions." Lance nodded and got into the bed, half sitting, half lying down. "So Lance, what is today's date?" "Uh, it's the fifteenth." "The whole date Lance. Day, month, date, year." "Oh, ok. It's Monday, April fifteenth, 2002." "Good. And who is the president of the United States?" "Al Gore." "Good. Ok Lance, I'm going to give you a phrase, and you have to tell me what it means. Do you understand?" "I think so." "All right. Listen. 'A stitch in time saves nine'." "Huh?" Lance looked puzzled. "'A stitch in time saves nine'. What do you think that phrase means?" "It's just...I don't know, it's just a stupid cliché, isn't it? Something that mothers say that doesn't really mean anything. Maybe, no wait." Lance stopped talking. For a minute he sat thinking. "I don't know, maybe it means to not waste time. Yeah. I think that's it." "OK." She wrote something in the chart. "Now I'm going to list some things, and I'd like for you to repeat them in order. Do you understand?" "Yeah." "OK, listen. Cup, bowl, window, mirror, book, lamp." She stopped and looked at him. "What did I say Lance?" "Cup, window, uh, ball," Lance paused, trying to remember the things that she had said. He furrowed his brows in concentration "Um, book, cup and..." He stopped again, and looked at her. He bit his lip, then said "That was all, right?" She did not respond. She continued writing in the chart. "What did you have for breakfast yesterday morning?" Lance thought for a moment. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "All right. Can you tell me what happened last Christmas?" Lance looked a little stunned. "Why?" "I want to see how far back you can remember." Lance sighed. He remembered last Christmas. Even though he would have preferred to forget parts of it. JC's parents had said that he could come to celebrate the holiday, but only without Lance. And Lance was not to be mentioned, under any circumstances. JC had angrily refused. Lance had tried to call his parents to wish them a happy holiday, but they had hung up on him. All around, a lovely holiday. "Josh and I stayed home. We tried to make turkey, but we ended up having spaghetti instead." Lance smiled a bit at the memory. "We gave each other rings. It was strange because it wasn't planned. We didn't tell each other, but we both bought rings." He began to unconsciously fiddle with the silver ring on his left hand. He stopped and looked at Dr. Becker. "There isn't much else to tell." "All right Lance. That's all for now." She wrote something else in the chart before closing it. "So, can I go home now?" Lance asked. "No, I want to run some more tests. I'm going to schedule you for an MRI." "A what?" Lance looked worried. "It's like a scan of your head," she explained. "Well, is that really necessary?" "Yes, it is." "Dr. Becker, what's wrong with me?" Lance asked, trying to keep himself calm. "I don't know yet, that's what the MRI is for." "But you have an idea, right?" "I'm not ruling anything out yet. You should get some rest. I'll be back when we're ready for you." A few minutes after she walked out of the room JC returned. He was carrying a paper bag. "Hey," he said, leaning over and kissing Lance. Lance grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. JC put the bag down and sat on the bed, not breaking the embrace. He sat holding Lance and stroking his hair. "How'd it go," he asked softly. "I don't know." "What were the tests?" "My senses and reflexes and stuff like that. Then she asked me some questions." "So, when can we leave?" "She wants to do some scan thing." "A scan thing?" JC pulled away to look at Lance. "Yeah," Lance said, looking down. "Of my head." JC didn't respond. Instead he grabbed the bag he had brought in the room. "So," he began, "I figured you haven't eaten in like, five hours, so I brought you some food." He pulled a soda, a turkey sandwich and a bag of chips from the bag. Lance smiled brightly. "See? This is why I love you." "This is why?" JC said, raising an eyebrow. "Well, among other things," Lance responded, grabbing his sandwich. JC smiled and grabbed one of his own from the bag and they settled down to eat in a companionable silence. * Lance had never in his life felt claustrophobic. Now, lying inside the MRI tunnel he was beginning to understand the fear. The combination of the closed off space, the noise that the machine was making, and Lance's nerves were making it hard for him to breathe. "Just settle down, Lance," he heard Dr. Becker's voice saying. "We're just about done." Lance made a conscious effort to calm himself. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. 'It'll be over soon, then I can go home,' he told himself. 'It will be over soon. It will all be over soon.' * JC lay in Lance's hospital bed, reading a magazine he had found in the waiting room. It was an Entertainment Weekly which featured an interview with the group. JC laughed as he read a quote from Lance: 'JC is so passionate,' Lance had said. 'He's the most passionate person I know. He just cares so deeply, and gives of himself so completely.' 'So JC is really dedicated to music?' the interviewer had asked. 'Yeah, music. Right.' Lance had replied. JC had laughed so hard when he had first seen that quote. The record company was not as amused. JC looked up at a noise, and saw Lance being wheeled back into the room. Lance had really felt that the wheelchair was unnecessary, but they had insisted. He looked at JC on the bed and smiled. "Tired, Josh?" "A bit," JC said, standing up. "So, are you done?" Lance shrugged, as he stood up and then sat back down on the bed. He pulled JC down next to him and moved them so that they were both lying down. He lay his head on JC's chest. A few minutes later Dr. Becker entered. "Well Lance, it's going to take a while for us to read the scans, so you can get out of here." "Really?" Lance asked tentatively. "Yes, really. I'll call you when we have the results." Lance jumped up, reaching for his clothes, as if he was afraid that she would change her mind. * Lance and JC had gone home, showered and called the guys. They then decided to go out to dinner. It was around 6:30 when they were sitting in one of the secluded back booths of the restaurant, talking quietly. About the tour, about rehearsals. About everything but what had happened that day. JC, however, held Lance's hand underneath the table. He did not want to lose contact with his lover. They were waiting for the check when Lance's cell phone rang. "Hello?" he said into the phone. "Lance?" "Yes. Who's this?" "It's Dr. Becker, Lance. I'd like you to come back to the hospital. We need to discuss the results of your MRI." JC was watching Lance's face intently. He could have sworn that he saw Lance grow paler. "All right. We'll be there in a little while. Yes. Thanks." He disconnected the phone. When Lance did not speak immediately, JC asked "Lance, what is it?" "Dr. Becker wants us to come back to the hospital to discuss my MRI." "OK then, let's get out of here," JC said, signaling for the waitress. * Fifteen minutes later they were sitting in Dr. Becker's office. She sat looking at them solemnly, while JC and Lance waited anxiously. Lance felt like screaming at her, 'Just tell me what's wrong with me!' Finally, she spoke. "Lance, I looked over you're MRI results with several of my colleagues. There is an abnormality." "Abnormality?" Lance asked fearfully. "Yes. From the MRI results and the results of your neurological exams we've come to a conclusion. Lance, you have a brain tumor." Lance and JC sat stunned. Lance felt as if he had been punched in the gut. No, this couldn't be true. A tumor. No, he was just sick. It was a cold, and stress. A tumor in his brain. No. God, no. "No, that can't be right. You have to be mistaken," Lance insisted. "Lance, I'm sorry. The MRI confirmed my suspicions. From your symptoms and your neurological examination I suspected a tumor." "Maybe it's a mistake," JC spoke up desperately, "Like a smudge on the film or something." "I'm sorry, there is not mistake. Lance, you have a tumor in the frontal lobe of your brain. That is what caused your memory problems, mood swings and loss of your sense of smell. The seizure, vomiting, and headaches come from the increased pressure in your head because of the tumor. Lance, I know this is difficult for you. You're going to have to have surgery." Lance and JC sat in shocked silence. "I know this is a lot to absorb right now. I'll leave you two alone for a while." She stood, and started to walk out. As she passed Lance she put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. JC turned to Lance. He was sitting, staring straight ahead. "Lance?" Lance faced him slowly. His eyes were full of shock, fear, and pain. The emotions were reflected in JC's eyes. "Why?" Lance asked, quietly. JC didn't answer. He simply took Lance in his arms. Lance began to cry, his body trembling. JC felt tears well in his own eyes. He tried desperately to force them down. He had to be strong. He had to be there for Lance. "Oh God! Why, Josh?" Lance sobbed against his shoulder. That was all JC could take. He gave into his own tears, holding onto Lance desperately. "It'll be ok, baby. It'll be ok." He wished that he could believe his own words.