Part 20

The twenty-five minute ride to the hospital was tense and silent. Since he would not be allowed to see Lance yet Ford had stayed at home to catch up on some work. Now, sitting in the car with a silent and angry JC, Stacey was really wishing that her husband had come, even if he couldn't get in to see Lance. She kept trying to draw JC into a conversation, but he was not cooperating. Finally she snapped.

"I don't want to talk about it. Not now. I'm still mad, and if I talk about it now, I'll be furious. I don't want Lance to see me that way."

"Please, Stace," he cut her off. "Not now, ok?" He finally turned towards her. She could still see the smoldering anger in his eyes, so she decided not to push him. She nodded silently, as they pulled into the hospital parking lot.

The hospital entrance was surrounded by people, both fans and press. JC sighed. He appreciated the fans, he really did. But times like this, when they were standing outside of a hospital screaming and holding up signs, he got incredibly annoyed. Sometimes he really wondered what people were thinking, if they were thinking at all. He felt like screaming 'This isn't a goddamn concert! It's a hospital, for God's sake.'

He pointedly ignored the screams from the fans and the questions from the media as he and Stacey were ushered into the hospital by one of their large bodyguards. He knew that he was tarnishing the image of a perfect boyband member with his 'rudeness', but he didn't care.

Once inside the hospital he practically ran towards the ICU, oblivious to the strange looks that were being thrown at him. Stacey followed silently, trying to keep up. He skidded to a halt outside the ward. He was still angry and he did not want Lance to know. Lance had enough problems now without burdening him with more. He forced himself to calm down, taking several deep breaths before entering.

Lance was half sitting, half lying down in bed looking sick and pained. A nurse was changing his IV. His head was still bandaged, his face still swollen. His eyes looked like they were starting to bruise as well. His face visibly brightened when he saw JC.

"Josh, hi," he said. He sounded a little off, his speech a bit thick, but much better than the day before. Much better than JC had expected him to look.

"Hey baby," he whispered, leaning in to hug Lance, and kiss him softly. "How was your night?"

Lance frowned, looking like he was trying to think of something. "Eight," he said finally.

JC looked at him, confused and concerned by his answer. "What are you talking about Lance?"

Lance smiled. "Last night I couldn't sleep, so I decided to count how many times they came in to see me, until you got back. Eight times."

JC's brows furrowed. "Why so many times?" He directed his question to the nurse who was just finishing up Lance's IV.

The nurse smiled. "If you say so, honey," she said, before going to check on another patient.

JC pulled over a chair. He took Lance's hand and smiled at him. "You had a hard time sleeping too, huh?"

"Yeah. It's been a while since..." He trailed off. JC understood all too well what he meant. He squeezed Lance's hand reassuringly.

Lance finally noticed his sister was hanging back, away from the bed. "Stacey, come here," he said.

"Hi Lance," she said, stepping forward, kissing his forehead, below the bandage. "How do you feel?"

"I'm sure I do." He studied them both briefly. Stacey looked worried. JC looked disturbed as well, though he was trying to hide it. "What's wrong?"

"What is it? Is it the tumor? Is it bad?" Lance was becoming distressed. He gripped JC's hand tightly. "Please tell me, Josh!"

"Lance, no," JC tried to calm him "The doctor said you were ok. Haven't you talked to him?"

"All right, listen," JC said, gently squeezing Lance's hand. "I'm going to let him explain everything to you, cause I'd probably mess it all up, and get you all confused."

"Nothing is wrong, Lance." He cupped Lance's face with his hand, his thumb caressing the stubbled chin. "I swear, there is nothing for you to be worried about."

JC sighed. "Yeah, that I know of." Silently he cursed Lance's mother for being an unforgiving bitch; Stacey for not being able to hide her feelings; himself for not being a better liar. "But that doesn't mean anything is wrong."

Lance did not look convinced. He was about to speak again when he noticed Dr. Williams enter the ward. "How are you feeling today, Lance?" he asked, approaching the bed.

"Well, that's to be expected," he said, looking at Lance's chart. "You're doing very well. If you keep it up, you'll probably be moved to a private room later today."

"No," JC said. "I wanted to wait for you to tell him. I didn't want to mess it up."

"All right then," he said, turning his attention back to Lance. "Your tumor was a grade II astrocytoma."

"It was a relatively low-grade tumor, but it did penetrate the surrounding tissue. We removed most of the tumor, but there are still some cells remaining, so you're going to have to have radiation therapy."

"For six weeks, five days a week. We'll work out all the details before you leave the hospital."

"You have a very good chance, Lance," the doctor said. "You're young and healthy. And with radiation your chances only improve." He glanced at his watch briefly. "I have to go now, Lance, but if you have any questions, let me know. I'll be back around to see you later."

The doctor nodded, and started to leave. JC wanted to ask about what he had read the night before, but he didn't want to do it in front of Lance. Now that he was calm, he didn't want to upset him again. "I'll be right back, ok?" he said.

"Dr. Williams," he called, as he came up behind the man. The doctor stopped and faced him.

"Yeah. Listen, doc, if you're not in a hurry, I wanted to ask you about some things I read about."

"OK, first, I read on the internet that Lance only had a 41 to 51 percent chance of living for five years. But you said his chances were good, so..."

"JC, those numbers are very misleading. There are a lot of factors involved, including the age of the patient and whether they have radiation. Some of the people that are included in those statistics didn't even have surgery."

The doctor sighed. "I really don't like to say. Like I told him, his chances are very good."

"Ok, there was something else. I was reading about all of these possible complications."

"He is doing very well. And he's being monitored very closely. If there are any complications we're well equipped to handle them." He glanced at his watch again. "I'm sorry, JC, but I have to go. Was there anything else?"

"No that's all. Thank you again." The doctor smiled at him reassuringly as he walked away. Strangely, JC did feel reassured. Feeling happier than he had all day JC headed back to the ICU.


	Inner Reflection \| home back to But Faith Part 20 ~Please say the right words~ The twenty-five minute ride to the hospital was tense and silent. Since he would not be allowed to see Lance yet Ford had stayed at home to catch up on some work. Now, sitting in the car with a silent and angry JC, Stacey was really wishing that her husband had come, even if he couldn't get in to see Lance. She kept trying to draw JC into a conversation, but he was not cooperating. Finally she snapped. "JC, please talk to me!" "About what?" he said, not looking at her. "About what?" she repeated in disbelief. "What do you think?" "I don't want to talk about it. Not now. I'm still mad, and if I talk about it now, I'll be furious. I don't want Lance to see me that way." "Will you talk to me later?" she pleaded. "I don't know." "JC..." "Please, Stace," he cut her off. "Not now, ok?" He finally turned towards her. She could still see the smoldering anger in his eyes, so she decided not to push him. She nodded silently, as they pulled into the hospital parking lot. The hospital entrance was surrounded by people, both fans and press. JC sighed. He appreciated the fans, he really did. But times like this, when they were standing outside of a hospital screaming and holding up signs, he got incredibly annoyed. Sometimes he really wondered what people were thinking, if they were thinking at all. He felt like screaming 'This isn't a goddamn concert! It's a hospital, for God's sake.' He pointedly ignored the screams from the fans and the questions from the media as he and Stacey were ushered into the hospital by one of their large bodyguards. He knew that he was tarnishing the image of a perfect boyband member with his 'rudeness', but he didn't care. Once inside the hospital he practically ran towards the ICU, oblivious to the strange looks that were being thrown at him. Stacey followed silently, trying to keep up. He skidded to a halt outside the ward. He was still angry and he did not want Lance to know. Lance had enough problems now without burdening him with more. He forced himself to calm down, taking several deep breaths before entering. Lance was half sitting, half lying down in bed looking sick and pained. A nurse was changing his IV. His head was still bandaged, his face still swollen. His eyes looked like they were starting to bruise as well. His face visibly brightened when he saw JC. "Josh, hi," he said. He sounded a little off, his speech a bit thick, but much better than the day before. Much better than JC had expected him to look. "Hey baby," he whispered, leaning in to hug Lance, and kiss him softly. "How was your night?" Lance frowned, looking like he was trying to think of something. "Eight," he said finally. JC looked at him, confused and concerned by his answer. "What are you talking about Lance?" Lance smiled. "Last night I couldn't sleep, so I decided to count how many times they came in to see me, until you got back. Eight times." JC's brows furrowed. "Why so many times?" He directed his question to the nurse who was just finishing up Lance's IV. "It's standard post-surgery procedure, sir," the nurse said. "And here I thought that you liked me," Lance said. "I'm hurt." "That's funny," the nurse replied. "You were calling me a bully a few hours ago." Lance frowned again. "I was not." The nurse smiled. "If you say so, honey," she said, before going to check on another patient. JC pulled over a chair. He took Lance's hand and smiled at him. "You had a hard time sleeping too, huh?" "Yeah. It's been a while since..." He trailed off. JC understood all too well what he meant. He squeezed Lance's hand reassuringly. Lance finally noticed his sister was hanging back, away from the bed. "Stacey, come here," he said. "Hi Lance," she said, stepping forward, kissing his forehead, below the bandage. "How do you feel?" "Sick to my stomach. And my head hurts. But I guess I expected that." "Well, you look good." "I'm sure I do." He studied them both briefly. Stacey looked worried. JC looked disturbed as well, though he was trying to hide it. "What's wrong?" "Nothing," Stacey said, a little too quickly. "Nothing?" Lance looked at her, doubtfully. "Something is wrong. Josh?" "Nothing is wrong, baby," JC said, hoping he sounded more sincere than Stacey did. Lance frowned. "You never could lie to me, Josh. You shouldn't try." "I'm not lying," JC insisted. "What is it? Is it the tumor? Is it bad?" Lance was becoming distressed. He gripped JC's hand tightly. "Please tell me, Josh!" "Lance, no," JC tried to calm him "The doctor said you were ok. Haven't you talked to him?" "No, not yet," Lance said, his voice somewhat less agitated "All right, listen," JC said, gently squeezing Lance's hand. "I'm going to let him explain everything to you, cause I'd probably mess it all up, and get you all confused." "But, if something is wrong..." "Nothing is wrong, Lance." He cupped Lance's face with his hand, his thumb caressing the stubbled chin. "I swear, there is nothing for you to be worried about." "That you know of," Lance added. JC sighed. "Yeah, that I know of." Silently he cursed Lance's mother for being an unforgiving bitch; Stacey for not being able to hide her feelings; himself for not being a better liar. "But that doesn't mean anything is wrong." Lance did not look convinced. He was about to speak again when he noticed Dr. Williams enter the ward. "How are you feeling today, Lance?" he asked, approaching the bed. "Ok," Lance said. "A little nauseous, and a headache." "Well, that's to be expected," he said, looking at Lance's chart. "You're doing very well. If you keep it up, you'll probably be moved to a private room later today." "That's great." "Now, did you're family explain everything to you?" "No," JC said. "I wanted to wait for you to tell him. I didn't want to mess it up." "All right then," he said, turning his attention back to Lance. "Your tumor was a grade II astrocytoma." "Is that bad?" Lance asked. "It was a relatively low-grade tumor, but it did penetrate the surrounding tissue. We removed most of the tumor, but there are still some cells remaining, so you're going to have to have radiation therapy." Lance bit his lip, taking in the information. "Ok, when?" "You'll start in about two weeks. Let's say May 1st." "For how long?" "For six weeks, five days a week. We'll work out all the details before you leave the hospital." Lance nodded. "Then what?" "What do you mean?" "I mean am I...am I gonna be ok?" "You have a very good chance, Lance," the doctor said. "You're young and healthy. And with radiation your chances only improve." He glanced at his watch briefly. "I have to go now, Lance, but if you have any questions, let me know. I'll be back around to see you later." "Thank you, Dr. Williams," Lance said. The doctor nodded, and started to leave. JC wanted to ask about what he had read the night before, but he didn't want to do it in front of Lance. Now that he was calm, he didn't want to upset him again. "I'll be right back, ok?" he said. At Lance's nod, JC hurried from the ward to catch the doctor. "Dr. Williams," he called, as he came up behind the man. The doctor stopped and faced him. "Yes, JC, is it?" "Yeah. Listen, doc, if you're not in a hurry, I wanted to ask you about some things I read about." "I have some time. Go ahead." "OK, first, I read on the internet that Lance only had a 41 to 51 percent chance of living for five years. But you said his chances were good, so..." "JC, those numbers are very misleading. There are a lot of factors involved, including the age of the patient and whether they have radiation. Some of the people that are included in those statistics didn't even have surgery." "Ok," JC said, "So what would you say Lance's chances are then? Like percentages?" The doctor sighed. "I really don't like to say. Like I told him, his chances are very good." "Ok, there was something else. I was reading about all of these possible complications." "He is doing very well. And he's being monitored very closely. If there are any complications we're well equipped to handle them." He glanced at his watch again. "I'm sorry, JC, but I have to go. Was there anything else?" "No that's all. Thank you again." The doctor smiled at him reassuringly as he walked away. Strangely, JC did feel reassured. Feeling happier than he had all day JC headed back to the ICU.