Domino

“You’re fucked.”

I looked into his grey eyes, my mind still trying to grasp that this is what he really said. I tilt my head a bit to the side, turning one ear (my better hearing one, so you know).
“Excuse me? Did I hear you correctly?”

“I believe you heard me correctly. I am being straightforward with you. That’s what you asked me to do. You are fucked.” This time his gaze swept from mine back to the paperwork in front of him on the desk. His hands unclasped and he pulled one sheet from the open folder. “Your body is shutting down. Your liver is nearly cirrhosed, and your other organs are systematically shutting down. Quite frankly, I don’t know how you are able to function without other health problems. When was the last time you had a drink?”

I thought quickly – about 2o minutes ago, before coming to the office for this meeting. I had stopped off at Big J’s bar and had a beer, followed by a peppermint schnapps to help hide the smell on the breath. No way I was going to tell him this fact though. “Been at least a couple days.”

“You’re not even sure when it was, are you? I would be safe to say you probably have imbibed already today, and here it is only,” a quick glance at the clock on the wall, “11:30 in the morning. How do you keep doing this to yourself, or better yet, why?” His eyes swept back up to meet mine, but there was no way I was going to win that match. I stared down into my lap.

“So what are my options, Doc? Transplants? Meds? Extreme rehab?”

His mouth pursed into a sour taste look. “This is the part of my job I hate the most.” My heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t sounding so good. “Quite frankly, there is nothing much medically that can help you now. We can prescribe medication, but it won’t improve your situation. May help alleviate it some – remove some pain. Transplant is out of the question. I am not sure I would want to put a new liver, and possibly other organs, into you considering the way you have treated what you have now. If you were to rehab, again that would only possibly slow down the deterioration, and with meds, still would not change the final outlook.”

“So you are saying I only have so much time left?”

“In a nutshell, yes. As to how much time, medically I don’t know how to begin even to try to guess a time frame. How you have made it here, as I said before, stymies my medical knowledge. Normally I would say you could be prepared for an extended medical stay for failing organs within the next month to 6 months. How long even with life and organ support is more than likely a few weeks more. In your seeming unusual situation, my best estimate is within the next year.”

“A year, or less.” That sounded so finite. Well, hell. It is Finite. It’s an expiration period. A movie ticket that is good for a whole year, until you remember to use it and it is now January first the year after. Pay full price for that punched ticket. “According to what you are telling me, there’s nothing you or I can do to change this, right? So what exactly am I to do for this time I have left?”

“As I have told other patients, that depends on you. Many try to do things they never had time for before, or spend extra time with family. I don’t know what your means are, or familial situation. First thing I would suggest, is clean up your habits. No drinking, eating healthier, exercise, but start slowly and work up to full routines. I don’t know what more I can suggest.”

I forced my head up, and met his gaze. I could see obvious sadness in his eyes, and I felt nothing but a small ball of fury starting in the pit of my stomach. No sense in getting pissed at the delivery boy. I rubbed my chin, trying to figure out what I should do, or say. I sighed deeply, and pushed myself up from the chair.

“Thanks doc. I need to think this over.”

“If you need someone to talk to, I can recommend a person that has experience in these type of discussions.”

“No. I just need to gather my thoughts and like you said, get something planned. So for future reference, my medical condition… just go on like normal? If it’s bad, go to the ER, if not schedule an appointment?”

“Yes. That would be best. If you need that number, I will leave it with the front desk in case you call back.”

“Thanks doc.” I reach out to shake his hand, and feel a clinical coldness when he touches me. I head out the door, and stop at the front desk to pay my co-pay, then head out the door to the parking lot. ‘Maybe a year. Maybe less. I really need to figure out what I am going to do. When did this all start happening to me?’ I had many questions, of myself, and nowhere to get the answers.

My mind wandered around in circles from the ‘why me?’ point to ‘It’s your own damn fault’ and careen into ‘I don’t feel near dead’ then back to GO square. Mentally distracted I paid no attention to where I was headed, until I heard a horn honk behind me. I glanced up at the mirror and see the friendly finger motion from the driver. A swift look at the light and I see it is green, so being the nice guy I am, I wave to the driver behind and pull a right turn. I shook my head to clear it. I needed to get home before I start thinking.

At home, I cracked open a bottle of beer and plopped myself into the easy chair. After a couple swigs from the beer, I realized it was not going to be enough. I set it on the side table and returned to the kitchen. The scotch was on top of the fridge. I never figured out why when I am drinking I put it up there. I think it is because I am worried about the bottle breaking and if up high enough, if I am too drunk, I won’t try to get it. Never seems to work that way. I grab the glass from last night and fill it halfway. A big swallow goes down as I reach the freezer, and then remember I used the last of the ice several days ago. I reach back for the bottle, refill the cup to full and take both back to the chair.

‘Now for the pity party,’ said I to the full glass. ‘Just you and me. Nothing else to worry about, except you being alone in the near future. Right Scotch? I knew another Scotch back in school. Scotch Domino or something like that. He was weird, but you ain’t too bad.’ My mind starting dredging up memories from a life formerly linked to me, so I sat and watched them on the movie screen in my head. And drank until Scotch, and everything else, was gone.