The replies came quickly, filling up our in-boxes. They couldn’t believe it, they said. They were crying, shaking, couldn’t think about anything else. Why was this happening to us, they asked, why oh why? And was there anything they could do? Could they bring us food, help clean the house, anything really, anything, because they just felt so helpless.
And how was Jack? How was he taking it all? Such a terrible thing to happen to a little boy, because they knew how much we treasured him. They knew because they knew how much their own children meant to them. God, they couldn’t even begin to contemplate what we were going through right now.
Then I saw the status updates on Facebook. Friends, friends of friends, people we didn’t even know so well.
Just received some very sad news...
Devastated, blown away...
Sometimes you get reminders that life is so terribly short. Never forget to hold on to what you have.
I counted: Jack, by proxy, was the recipient of 126 likes. Just as I was thinking how to respond, the posts in my feed were no longer about Jack.
RIP David Frost.
So sad right now: RIP Sir David.
*Crying now* this man was a genius. RIP.
Within minutes, Jack was forgotten. Gutted, they said, absolutely gutted. Because Frost/Nixon had always been their favorite movie. Because they don’t make journalists like that anymore, a true gent, integrity to the core, better than Murdoch and his phone-tapping hacks.
“Too soon,” they all wrote. Too soon. Those two little words bounced around in my head. Too soon. He was seventy-four. He’d had his three score and ten. David Frost had probably spent more time on the toilet than my son had been alive. Too fucking soon?
Subject: Treatment
Sent: Tue Nov 11, 2014 10:59 pm
From: Nev
To: Rob
Hi Rob, really sorry to hear your news. I know what a terrible time it is and how there’s nothing anyone can do to make it better.
Right, so down to practical matters. As for Josh’s treatments, he was diagnosed over three years ago and, yes, with grade 3 glioblastoma multiforme. He had his tumor resected at the Royal Preston Hospital in 2009. After that he had Gamma Knife radiation therapy for a few microscopic nodules.
We were told shortly after that that there was nothing they could do and all that was left was palliative care. That was when I started looking into Dr. Sladkovsky’s clinic. It’s expensive but it saved my son’s life. Please don’t hesitate if you need any more details. Happy to talk by email or on the phone (01632 532676) any time you like.
Take care,
Nev
My phone rang and it was Scott.
“Hi, Rob.” His tone was formal, awkward, his phone voice.
“Hey,” I said, and for a moment he didn’t speak, and I could hear what sounded like a café or bar in the background.
“I’m so sorry to hear the terrible news.”
“Thanks.”
Another pause, the faint sound of him chewing gum. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do,” he said.
I didn’t reply. Anything I can do. I had heard that phrase a lot in the last hour.
“You should have said, mate,” Scott said, his tone less formal, old friends chatting in the pub. “You should have told me, maybe there was something I could have...you know. It was just the group email was such a surprise... I thought everything was...”
“Are you unhappy about the way we told you, Scott, with the email?”
“No, no,” he said, stumbling over his words. “I didn’t mean it like that...”
“Should I have come around and told you personally? Would that have been better for you?”
“No, mate, sorry, that’s not what I meant. Please don’t be like that. I just wanted to let you know that you can call anytime, or we can grab a beer or something, talk about stuff.”
Talk things through. As if we were discussing Scott’s latest failed relationship, or West Ham’s struggles in midfield. He started to say something about a doctor he knew, someone who owed him a favor, but I hung up the phone.
Subject: Re: Jack
Sent: Thu Nov 13, 2014 8:33 am
From: Rob
To: Nev
Dear Nev,
Thanks very much for your information about Josh. To be honest, I was a bit skeptical at first about Dr. Sladkovsky’s clinic. I’ve read lots of criticism on Hope’s Place, so it’s very interesting and encouraging to hear your story.
We are rapidly running out of options. Yesterday, the doctor told us that Jack hadn’t been accepted on the clinical trial at the Marsden. Now they’re saying that chemo is all that’s left and that will only slow things down at best.
I would take his place in a heartbeat, if I could. I would give him my brain, everything, if I could. I just don’t know what he has done to deserve this.
I’m very sorry for telling you all of this, Nev, as I know we don’t know each other. As you’ve gone through all this before, I just thought you’d understand.
Take care,
Rob
Subject: Re: Jack
Sent: Fri Nov 14, 2014 10:42 am
From: Nev
To: Rob
Dear Rob,
Your little boy did nothing to deserve this and don’t you ever forget that. I did the same when my Josh was diagnosed, constantly asking myself why. Why Josh? What did he do? What did I do? Was there something that could have prevented it? Was it because we lived near that cell phone tower? Was it all the chemicals they put in that baby food?
I do understand what you’re going through though because I went through the same. I constantly thought about a world without Josh and it just destroyed me. I suppose that was what pushed me toward the clinic in Prague. Nothing the doctors said here made any sense anymore and I just felt like we were wasting time.
I’m so sorry about all this. Please always know that you can talk to me about this stuff any time. I’m only an email or a phone call away.
Take care my friend.
Nev
PS I’m attaching some pictures of Josh so you can get an idea of what the treatment
