Rain Check
Brandon Monk
I ended up in jail because I had cancer
and had stopped handling my business. Really, to have this make any sense I'd
have to start by telling you that my urine had started to look like rust. I
made an appointment with Dr. Clark who referred me to a urologist whose name I
can't pronounce.
Before I was diagnosed I had planned to go to the lake for a week to try to do some perch fishing from the south bank of a small creek. We used to go once a year, my son and I, and used cane poles with short lines and small hooks. That was the way my father had shown me. We would break the worms up into three or four pieces and save on bait.
In the evenings we would cook outside with a propane tank and burner, frying the perch whole in oil, I even had a special set of silverware I would bring with us that had small forks which made picking the meat off the bone easier.
They ran some tests and I was waiting for the results. I didn't have anyone come with me. I figured it was just a kidney infection.
The urologist was a little brown man. Most of the time people like that end up sending their money right back to where they came from. In a way it's selfless. Most of my friends talk about how they wish they'd give the jobs to people from here, but I think this doctor can be proud of what he does if he sends his money back to his family.
The doctor looked into his chart to find my name.
"Let's see, Jeff erey, is that right?" He broke my name into two names.
"Jeff is fine."
"Jiff," he said like the peanut butter brand and then smiled and nodded at me, "I have received your test results in my office just today, just this morning. I then reviewed those test results and I have concluded your kidney is filled with cancerous cells."
He made me feel like a lab experiment.
"What does that mean doc?"
"We will need to remove your kidney. When we remove your kidney we will test to see if the cancer has metastasized."
"What does that mean?"
"Jiff, we do not know what the future holds for you, but the surgery should be scheduled within one month. The important thing is to keep your spirits up and not jump to any conclusions."
I really didn't know what to do and my doctor hadn't told me not to work so I just kept showing up every day. I'd almost forget about it until I had to piss. It seemed like it was brightening up, from rust to the color of the red roses my grandfather tended until he passed away.
I was heading home from work on a Friday when I saw flashing lights behind me. I was speeding because my granddaughter's first birthday was today and I wanted to be there to see her smear cake on her beautiful face.
When the officer came to the window I had my license and insurance ready, but it didn't help.
"Jeff, is that you?"
"It's me Bill."
"How've ya been?"
"I've been alright. How fast was I going?"
"It's been about a week since I saw your daughter, how's she?"
"She's good."
"Look, I'm just gonna go run this to get my contact, it helps with the quotas and whatnot, and I'll be right back. I'll give you a warning. One sec."
I knew what he'd find. I thought about putting my foot down on the accelerator and running. I could have sped off to the next town and hidden out until I could get across the border. But I wasn't a damn criminal. I probably wouldn't have even gotten away.
Bill took me in because I had an unpaid speeding ticket from before I was diagnosed. And on top of that they had given me a fine for failure to appear on that old ticket. I could tell he was as embarrassed as I was about it, but he really didn't have a choice. I wasn't in the mood to put up a fight anyway.
It's no excuse, but after I was diagnosed, things stacked up on me. I hadn't shown up for court because most days I would just come home from work and think about my kids and about the things I'd done with my life that I shouldn't have done. They had issued a warrant for my arrest. To be honest, I'd put it all out of my mind until Bill pulled me over.
They booked me and it was up to me to make a phone call to try to get out. Otherwise, I would have to stay a couple of weeks.
The reality was I didn't have anybody to call. My wife had died five years ago, pancreatic cancer. I couldn't call my daughter. She was getting ready for the birthday party, probably had a million things on her mind. About my only option was to call my son, but we hadn't spoken since he had taken his new job, found a new girlfriend, and had moved up a class or two in the world.
I took a seat on a bench in the holding cell and put my head in my hands. I tried to think what it would be like to be by the creek, in the shade, under a tree, with a line in the water, and maybe a cold beer leaning up against my leg. I imagined I was feeling the cane pole bobbing slightly as the smaller perch tried to peck away at the worm to break it off the tiny hook. I knew their mouths couldn't even fit around the hook, as small as they were.
My son and I had stopped talking as much after his mom died. She had always been the one that held the family together and I just couldn't do it as well. I had missed a few family gatherings and at one he accused me of just sitting on the porch and drinking beer and he was probably right, but I'd only been without my wife for six months.
If I called him I knew I'd never be the same to him. I'd never be able to help him out of a bind. I'd never be the one he depended on. I'd never be looked at as his idol. I'd never be the man he aspired to be.
I finally looked up and hollered at the guard, telling him I had someone to call. I was taken out of the cell and to the phone. I picked it up and dialed my son's number. He answered. I don't think I expected him to, but I was calling from a number he didn't recognize.
"It's me son. Look, I was just thinking about how we used to go perch fishing in the summer when you were out of school and I could get a week off. Do you remember that?"
"No, I don't remember. Where are you calling from?"
"Well, I was thinking we might go next week if you were free. I have some things I need to talk to you about, anyway. It would be nice to get together."
"I have work next week. I just started a new job and they won't let me take off that quick. Maybe another time. Rain check, okay?"
"Yeah, another time would be nice."
"Is there anything else, Dad?"
"No son. I love you. I'll talk to you soon."
The prison guard watched me hang up the phone. He had a look on his face like it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before.
I just smiled back at him. My eyes were welling up with tears.
I sat in jail for two weeks and they eventually let me out. I wrote a few checks and paid my fines. My job would have fired me, but I decided to take a medical leave of absence. Dr. Clark faxed them a note about the cancer. I eventually told my daughter what happened so she wouldn't be mad at me like my son was.
I never made it to my granddaughter's birthday, but she saw me into surgery from her mother's arms. As they were wheeling me down the hall I saw my son walking in a set of double doors at the other end of the hall. I never told him what happened, but I knew who did.
"She's going to be just like her mother," I said to the nurse as she pushed me down the hall.
As I went under anesthesia I was sitting on the bank with my granddaughter. She was old enough to hold a pole. I was anxious, though. I couldn't relax. I kept looking around for someone that wasn't there.
Before I was diagnosed I had planned to go to the lake for a week to try to do some perch fishing from the south bank of a small creek. We used to go once a year, my son and I, and used cane poles with short lines and small hooks. That was the way my father had shown me. We would break the worms up into three or four pieces and save on bait.
In the evenings we would cook outside with a propane tank and burner, frying the perch whole in oil, I even had a special set of silverware I would bring with us that had small forks which made picking the meat off the bone easier.
They ran some tests and I was waiting for the results. I didn't have anyone come with me. I figured it was just a kidney infection.
The urologist was a little brown man. Most of the time people like that end up sending their money right back to where they came from. In a way it's selfless. Most of my friends talk about how they wish they'd give the jobs to people from here, but I think this doctor can be proud of what he does if he sends his money back to his family.
The doctor looked into his chart to find my name.
"Let's see, Jeff erey, is that right?" He broke my name into two names.
"Jeff is fine."
"Jiff," he said like the peanut butter brand and then smiled and nodded at me, "I have received your test results in my office just today, just this morning. I then reviewed those test results and I have concluded your kidney is filled with cancerous cells."
He made me feel like a lab experiment.
"What does that mean doc?"
"We will need to remove your kidney. When we remove your kidney we will test to see if the cancer has metastasized."
"What does that mean?"
"Jiff, we do not know what the future holds for you, but the surgery should be scheduled within one month. The important thing is to keep your spirits up and not jump to any conclusions."
I really didn't know what to do and my doctor hadn't told me not to work so I just kept showing up every day. I'd almost forget about it until I had to piss. It seemed like it was brightening up, from rust to the color of the red roses my grandfather tended until he passed away.
I was heading home from work on a Friday when I saw flashing lights behind me. I was speeding because my granddaughter's first birthday was today and I wanted to be there to see her smear cake on her beautiful face.
When the officer came to the window I had my license and insurance ready, but it didn't help.
"Jeff, is that you?"
"It's me Bill."
"How've ya been?"
"I've been alright. How fast was I going?"
"It's been about a week since I saw your daughter, how's she?"
"She's good."
"Look, I'm just gonna go run this to get my contact, it helps with the quotas and whatnot, and I'll be right back. I'll give you a warning. One sec."
I knew what he'd find. I thought about putting my foot down on the accelerator and running. I could have sped off to the next town and hidden out until I could get across the border. But I wasn't a damn criminal. I probably wouldn't have even gotten away.
Bill took me in because I had an unpaid speeding ticket from before I was diagnosed. And on top of that they had given me a fine for failure to appear on that old ticket. I could tell he was as embarrassed as I was about it, but he really didn't have a choice. I wasn't in the mood to put up a fight anyway.
It's no excuse, but after I was diagnosed, things stacked up on me. I hadn't shown up for court because most days I would just come home from work and think about my kids and about the things I'd done with my life that I shouldn't have done. They had issued a warrant for my arrest. To be honest, I'd put it all out of my mind until Bill pulled me over.
They booked me and it was up to me to make a phone call to try to get out. Otherwise, I would have to stay a couple of weeks.
The reality was I didn't have anybody to call. My wife had died five years ago, pancreatic cancer. I couldn't call my daughter. She was getting ready for the birthday party, probably had a million things on her mind. About my only option was to call my son, but we hadn't spoken since he had taken his new job, found a new girlfriend, and had moved up a class or two in the world.
I took a seat on a bench in the holding cell and put my head in my hands. I tried to think what it would be like to be by the creek, in the shade, under a tree, with a line in the water, and maybe a cold beer leaning up against my leg. I imagined I was feeling the cane pole bobbing slightly as the smaller perch tried to peck away at the worm to break it off the tiny hook. I knew their mouths couldn't even fit around the hook, as small as they were.
My son and I had stopped talking as much after his mom died. She had always been the one that held the family together and I just couldn't do it as well. I had missed a few family gatherings and at one he accused me of just sitting on the porch and drinking beer and he was probably right, but I'd only been without my wife for six months.
If I called him I knew I'd never be the same to him. I'd never be able to help him out of a bind. I'd never be the one he depended on. I'd never be looked at as his idol. I'd never be the man he aspired to be.
I finally looked up and hollered at the guard, telling him I had someone to call. I was taken out of the cell and to the phone. I picked it up and dialed my son's number. He answered. I don't think I expected him to, but I was calling from a number he didn't recognize.
"It's me son. Look, I was just thinking about how we used to go perch fishing in the summer when you were out of school and I could get a week off. Do you remember that?"
"No, I don't remember. Where are you calling from?"
"Well, I was thinking we might go next week if you were free. I have some things I need to talk to you about, anyway. It would be nice to get together."
"I have work next week. I just started a new job and they won't let me take off that quick. Maybe another time. Rain check, okay?"
"Yeah, another time would be nice."
"Is there anything else, Dad?"
"No son. I love you. I'll talk to you soon."
The prison guard watched me hang up the phone. He had a look on his face like it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before.
I just smiled back at him. My eyes were welling up with tears.
I sat in jail for two weeks and they eventually let me out. I wrote a few checks and paid my fines. My job would have fired me, but I decided to take a medical leave of absence. Dr. Clark faxed them a note about the cancer. I eventually told my daughter what happened so she wouldn't be mad at me like my son was.
I never made it to my granddaughter's birthday, but she saw me into surgery from her mother's arms. As they were wheeling me down the hall I saw my son walking in a set of double doors at the other end of the hall. I never told him what happened, but I knew who did.
"She's going to be just like her mother," I said to the nurse as she pushed me down the hall.
As I went under anesthesia I was sitting on the bank with my granddaughter. She was old enough to hold a pole. I was anxious, though. I couldn't relax. I kept looking around for someone that wasn't there.
