"and I walk into the storm thinking... how there would never be enough raindrops for me to write all the things you make me feel"
Michael's P.O.V
As he pushes open the door and enters the waiting room, the hospital's smell like a synthetic clean death fills his nostrils; He looks around and sees that the room looks strangely green. The cries of those waiting create a sorrowful chorus. A tension resides throughout the entire corridor as stretchers squeak and urgent screams ring throughout the room. It's dreadful, cruel, to have to stay in a terribly lighted room, filled with grief-struck faces and agitated shouts as you wait for his name to be called.
As he sits down on the blue chair, which is a little uncomfortable, he remembers the last time he was in the ER, he was with Sara. It had been bad news then and his gut was telling him it would be no different today. The nosebleeds had started days ago, though he had managed to hide it from the others this time.
Michael was pulled from his reverie when an impatient voice called his name. It was a short, red-faced nurse holding a clipboard. He got up and silently followed her to the Oncologist's office. She pushed the door open for him and left without a word. He knew nursing was a tough job, but surely she could muster some kind of cheer in such a miserable place.
The Doctor met him with a professional smile; one he had clearly cultivated over many years and was designed to give nothing away.
"Mr Scofield, how are you feeling today?" he asked in a tone that matched his smile.
"Just tell me, doc" he replied, slipping into the chair opposite the man. He didn't see the point of the pleasantries or small talk. He didn't have the time or the patience.
The Doctor's smile became resigned for a moment, as though he had forgotten the intelligence of his patient. Michael was not a man he needed to pander to.
"Michael, I'm afraid it is as we feared. The tumour we removed last year has, unfortunately, begun to re-grow. It's advancement appears to be more aggressive. It is possible we did not manage to remove it completely last time, though it is impossible to know for sure..." he paused to study Michael's face.
Michael felt the butterflies in his stomach settle. He had known this would be the diagnosis, but he had still held onto some miniscule hope that it would be ok.
"Can you operate?" he asked in a matter-of-fact tone. Again, he already knew the answer. The Doctor took a slow breath before answering.
"The tests and scans show that the cancer has spread. Surgery...would mean cutting into the cerebral cortex."
The only tell on Michael's face was an almost imperceptible twitch of his left eye. Inside his heart was sinking. Cutting into the Cerebral Cortex would be a game of Russian Roulette. His memories, his personality, everything that made him Michael Scofield was in there. To remove part of it would be to remove part of who he was, and there was no way of knowing what that part would be.
The Doctor was still studying him closely.
"I know you understand the implications, Michael." he said calmly. Michael just fixed him with a squinted stare, the kind that burns into a man's soul.
"Yes." he replied simply.
"The only thing I can tell you for certain, is that without surgery, you probably have 12 weeks at most." Michael nodded again, moving his gaze to something unseen in an imaginary distance.
"But if we are going to operate, we need to do it now. The longer we postpone it, the more tissue will need to be removed."
Michael was still non-responsive. The Doctor wrung his fingers together awkwardly.
"I know this isn't what you wanted to hear..."
"My wife is pregnant." Michael's sudden broken silence seemed to echo around the room and the doctor stopped short, his mouth hanging open...
YOU ARE READING
5,000 Nights of Thunder (PrisonBreak)
Fanfiction... and there were always those nights when she preferred the rain over people. because the rain would remind her of how she would feel and people would remind her of the things she always wanted to forget... "But storms, they can come back, can't t...
