Callie massaged the back of Frank's neck. "You're tense," she commented, feeling the tight, bunched muscles under her fingers. It was a nice Saturday morning, and they'd decided to go out for a walk, before stopping to rest at a spot beneath a shady tree.

"I'm scared, Callie. I'm scared for Joe," Frank said, sorrowfully lowering his eyes to the ground. Though his brother seldom complained of not being well, insisting that he was fine every time he asked, he'd watched as Joe grow sicker and sicker each day. "He's really sick, Callie. I don't know what to do."

"He's getting treatment, right? Is it not working?" Callie asked anxiously.

"I don't know." Frank's forehead creased in a frown. Joe was getting simultaneous treatment for both HIV disease and cancer but Frank was afraid it was too much for him. Joe never talked to him about his illness, but he could sense his brother's depression. Sometimes he would catch Joe crying when he thought no one was looking, and many nights he'd woken up, hearing heart-wrenching sobs, or worse, groans of pain coming from Joe's room.

"He's getting intensive anti-viral treatment because his CD4 count is showing a major drop in his T-cells."

At Callie's confused look, Frank explained. "The CD4 count is an indicator of how much damage HIV has caused to our immune system and it measures both infected and healthy T-cells, although the number of infected T-cells is relatively small. A person with a CD4 count of more than 500 T-cells is considered normal, meaning his immune system is normal. But Joe's CD4 showed less than 200 T-cells."

"Which means, a major setback to Joe's immune system?" Frank nodded miserably.

"And not only that, his stomach's really upsetting him these few days," Frank added, rubbing a tired hand over his eyes. "With all the anti-viral drugs he's injecting himself with everyday, I have to say I'm not really surprised." Frank's eyes watered. His brother was battling not one, but TWO life-threatening diseases. Thousands of people DIE each day because of either disease, so how is Joe going to survive this? Frank wondered in misery.

"Even eating turns to be a big problem. Joe needs a balanced diet high in protein and calories, which the immune system requires to fight illness. But he can barely keep down water," Frank said. Callie drew in a sharp breath. Before he became ill, Joe had a ferocious appetite and could eat almost anything and everything. "He's gotten so thin, he almost doesn't look like Joe anymore. He can't afford to lose any more weight. That, plus the fevers, the chills...I don't know how much more he could take."

"What does his doctor say?"

Frank shook his head slowly and using a twig, he restlessly poked it into the hard, grass-covered soil. "Joe's at the hospital right now for another check-up. The doctor thinks that maybe, just maybe surgery can help, IF the cancer hasn't spread to other parts of his body." He turned to her. "Oh, Callie I feel so useless! Seeing him like that, it just- I don't know...it just HURTS."

"It hurts right here," Frank whispered, lightly touching his heart. Callie's hand left his neck and went down to his shoulder instead, squeezing it comfortingly.

"He's strong, Frank," Callie tried to reassure him as well as herself. "He'll make it through this. With all the support he's getting, I don't see why not." Frank wanted so much to believe her, wanted so much to believe what she was saying was true. But honestly he did not know what to believe anymore. Sighing, he laid his head on Callie's shoulder, seeking comfort and consolation only she can give him.

 

Joe was nervous. In fact he was very nervous.

"Just relax, Joe. This isn't going to hurt a bit," Dr. David Knightley, his cancer specialist said, spreading gooey globs of green gel on his hands. "Just lay back and it will be over in a few minutes."

"Is this going to hurt like the endoscopy thing you did to me last week?" Joe asked nervously as he settled down, squirming a little as he tried to make himself comfortable. He hoped the ultrasound scan he was taking would be a better experience compared to the one he had with the endoscopy. He shuddered a little as he remembered how it felt when Dr. Knightley passed the flexible telescope thing down his gullet all the way to his stomach.

"Dr. Knightley gave him a strange look, then his face broke into a gentle smile. "It couldn't have hurt that much! You were sedated. In fact it took you a couple of hours to snap out of it."

"Yeah well...Anything other than food and water going down my stomach ought to have hurt a bit," Joe answered sheepishly. His eyes went wide and he gasped a little when Dr. Knightley spreadt the gel on his bare stomach. "Man, that's cold..."

"Just relax, son. You're talking too much," Dr. Knightley said in amusement. Fenton who was standing nearby laughed a little. That's my Joe, he thought affectionately. But Fenton knew his son was just nervous.

"I feel like a pregnant woman," Joe muttered. He took a deep breath and tried to relax as Dr. Knightley passed a little probe over his abdomen. The doctor who was attempting to keep a serious face couldn't help but chuckle and the probe jiggled a bit. Joe protested, "Hey, that tickles."

Dr. Knightley turned serious again as he stared at the computer screen in front of him in concentration, still running the probe in small circles against an area directly below Joe's ribs. Fenton turned to look at the screen seeing nothing but masses of scattered black and white.

Joe watched as the doctor's face changed. "What's the matter?"

Dr. Knightley hesitated. "You see this dark lump over here?" He pointed to a spot on the screen. Fenton came a little bit closer, squinting a little.

"What's that?" Joe asked, his heart racing.

"That's the tumor," the doctor answered, frowning a little. He scrutinized the image again for a few seconds then he removed the probe. "Tell you what, Joe. I'd like to do some more tests on you-" he hesitated a little.

"Is something wrong?" Joe asked. Stupid question, Joe, he thought, of course there is.

"I won't be able to tell for sure until you get a CT scan...A CT scan takes a number of x-ray pictures of the area. These are then fed into a computer to form a detailed picture of the inside of the body," Dr. Knightley explained. Joe nodded numbly, and slowly he locked gazes with his father.

 

"Good news," Dr. Knightley said. Joe's ears perked up a little. He could use some good news. "The test result and CT scan show that the cancer has not spreadt beyond the stomach."

Fenton broke into a smile but his smile faltered when Dr. Knightley paused for a while. "However, I'm afraid it cannot be removed by surgery." His heart fell. Is there no way at all to save my son? He wondered. When the first doctor they went to told them that the cancer was terminal, they'd asked for a second opinion. And having Dr. Knighley as Joe's doctor had given him some hope, since he was the best surgeon in the state. Until now.

"So what happens now?" Joe asked dully. His mother who sat beside him gave his hand a squeeze.

"Chemotherapy is our best option for now," the doctor said gently. "It may cause you some pain and nasty side-effects but it's our only hope."

"I thought chemo is more commonly used when the cancer has spread beyond the stomach?" Laura spoke up for the first time. One of her friends had breast cancer and she had to undergo chemo treatments, and it wasn't pretty.

"Yes, where it can help control the cancer for a period of time. It is unlikely to cure the cancer -- rather, the aim is to shrink and control it for as long as possible. But in Joe's case it is different. When I said the tumor couldn't be removed, that doesn't mean it can never be removed. The chemotherapy is to try and shrink the cancer so that it is easier to operate on effectively. It's called the neo-adjuvant therapy." Fenton took a deep breath, his mind racing.

"So, you're saying there is a chance after all?"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying." But the doctor still looked worried. Joe knew what he was thinking.

"Will my, uh, other condition affect this, doctor?" he asked. Joe was still taking anti-viral treatment to keep his viral load in check. Having to keep track of two completely different types of illnesses was really nerve-wrecking but Joe knew he had to try. He couldn't give up. He simply wouldn't. Even though the man who did this to him was sentenced to death, but Joe wouldn't give him the satisfaction of dying himself.

"That's what I'm most worried about," Dr. Knightley said, frowning. "Your case is a very rare case so we have to be extremely careful." Tell me about it, Joe thought bitterly, turning his head away, deep frustration lining his face. This is the undoubtedly the biggest mess I've ever gotten myself into.

"What does Dr. Johnson have to say about this?" Fenton asked, referring to Joe's other doctor who specialized in HIV disease.

"I haven't had a chance to discuss this with him yet but I'll talk to him as soon as possible. But personally, I think we stand a good chance. Just as long as Joe keeps taking his medication, I doubt there would be much problem."

Fenton's heart soared hopefully. His son might live after all. And that was all that mattered.

 

"Mom, he's throwing up again," Frank said, the anxiety on his face quickly turning into alarm, wincing as he listened to Joe's dry, painful-sounding heaves from inside the bathroom. Joe had started undergoing the chemotherapy treatment and was constantly sick, at times so severely nauseous Joe could barely talk. Frank had been pacing outside the bathroom for over half an hour and still his brother hadn't come out. Laura was just passing the boys' rooms when Frank called out to her. "Is this normal?"

"The doctor said there may be side-effects..." Mrs. Hardy said uncertainly. She knocked on the door. "Joe, honey, are you alright in there?"

"He won't answer you," Frank said, wincing again when Joe violently heaved.

"Joe, open the door." Laura knocked again, more than a little worried now. Silence. She was about to knock again when the door suddenly swung open.

"What?" Joe growled, his face pallid except for two spots of rouge on his cheeks. Laura took an involuntary step back at her son's brashness. Joe instantly felt guilty. He moved sluggishly to his bed, the last of his energy spent. Frank followed him with his concerned eyes as he lay down slowly.

"I'm sorry, Mom...I didn't mean to snap at you," Joe sighed. "I-I'm just not feeling all that great right now." In fact, Joe felt terrible. His stomach was doing somersaults, his head felt stuffy, and he was so cold, he felt like a human Eskimo Pie.

"That's all right, honey," his mother said gently and came over to sit next to Joe. A lump rose in her throat as she studied her younger son's face; it was much too pale, and Joe'd gotten so thin his cheekbones protruded painfully against his pain-etched face. "You're shivering. Frank, fetch me the blanket."

Joe shuddered as another chill ran through his body. Laura quickly covered him with the blanket, bringing it up close to his chest and tucked it under Joe's chin. "Thanks, Mom."

"Shh, just rest." Joe nodded and closed his eyes, clearly exhausted. He still felt nauseous, but at least it wasn't as bad as before. Joe was aware of someone stroking his hair, gentle hands moving down to his temples and Joe let out a little sigh when he felt someone massage his temples gently.

"That feels good, Mom," he mumbled drowsily.

"Sleep now," she said soothingly. It broke her heart to see Joe in pain and she knew any mother would feel the same way too. She leant down and kissed Joe gently on the forehead. Joe mumbled, moving his head slightly. But his eyes remained closed. I love you, she thought, a lump rising in her throat. I love you so much.

"He's asleep now." She rose quietly. She went to her elder son and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Let him rest. Come, I'll make you some hot chocolate."

Frank nodded and let his mother lead him outside, throwing a last glance over his shoulder at his brother.

 

"I am very happy to inform you that the chemotherapy had successfully shrunk the tumor just enough for us to possibly perform an operation," Dr. Knightley said. Fenton breathed out in relief. Thank God, he thought, giving his wife's hand a squeeze.

"That's-that's great," he said, unsure of what else to say.

"And I'd like to perform a partial gastrectomy on Joe as soon as possible." At Laura's frown, he added. "A partial gastrectomy is an operation to remove a part of the stomach. Often we remove the lymph glands close to the stomach at the same time to see whether the cancer cells have spread into them. Luckily, we may not have to remove other parts or organs such as his intestines or bowel, so I don't think Joe's going to have much problem with his diet after the operation. And that is also good, because with his other condition, he cannot afford such drastic changes in his diet."

Fenton nodded in understanding, feeling a little tense. Joe's 'other' condition, as the doctor may call it, was just as serious as this one. They could only hope that Joe's already weakened immune system could survive this operation.

 

"Is he awake yet?" Frank heard someone say from behind. He whirled around and saw Vanessa standing at the door. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was already late in the afternoon. School's finished for the day, he realized. He had decided to skip school that day. He just could not NOT be at Joe's side that day.

"Hey, Vanessa. No, not yet," Frank answered in a hushed tone. He looked at his brother who was still sleeping off the effects of the anaesthetic. It had been 5 hours since the operation and Joe still had not regained consciousness.

"Where are your parents?" Vanessa asked, coming over to the bed. She looked down at Joe, her face unreadable as she reached down to stroke what was left of Joe's blond hair. Joe had lost most of his hair due to the chemotherapy treatment but Vanessa wasn't really concerned about that. The thought of Joe having to undergo an operation had been terrifying and now that it was over, she was anxious to find out how it went.

"They went out to get something to eat." Vanessa nodded. Slowly she pulled a chair closer and sat.

"The operation was successful," Frank said even before Vanessa opened her mouth to ask. Her eyes went wide and she broke into a grin, her eyes shining with excitement and happiness. Practically jumping out of her chair, she rushed over to Frank and gave him a quick hug.

"Thank God," she breathed out in relief. That was the best news she had had in a long time. Then she hesitated. "So...is he going to be okay?"

Frank looked back at his sleeping brother, watching as Joe's chest rose and fell steadily. An IV was slowly dripping life-sustaining fluid into Joe's arm, and he would have looked basically okay except for the tube in his nose and the unnatural pallor of his face. Joe had not said much before he was wheeled into surgery but Frank knew he was terrified. He could tell by the way Joe was avoiding everyone's eyes as the nurses prepared him for surgery.

"Yeah, he's going to be okay," Frank said, smiling. After so long, Frank was surprised to find that he could still find it in his heart to smile and laugh, having spent endless days in depression and worry over his brother. Joe's going to be okay, he told himself again and again, finding it very hard to believe. He's really going to be okay.

Okay, fine, there's still the other problem, but didn't the doctor say that if Joe kept on taking those anti-viral drugs and sticking to a well-balanced diet, he would remain healthy at all times? Suddenly Frank could picture his brother doing all the things he loved again; football, track, baseball, solving mysteries...

"He's going to be fine," he whispered, almost giddy with happiness as he reached down to take one of Joe's hand, careful not to disturb the IV line. He squeezed it gently. "Just fine."