by Carla Hanna
He dismissed me. “Not a chance. You’re an angel.” He squeezed my leg. “I get the same feeling with you that I do when I go to church.”
I started the car and headed home. I still had questions.
“Manuel, why did we just go to church?”
He answered bluntly, “Because you just had a major life trauma and I can’t deal with it by myself. I need help.”
“But God’s not, like, speaking your words for you and controlling your actions. You are. You’re responsible for yourself. God has nothing to do with it,” I explained.
He disagreed. “No. God helps me deal with it, do the right thing.”
I objected, “I don’t see it. People turn to God for guidance and ignore that bad stuff happened in the first place which made them turn to God. So why not just blame God for doing the bad stuff, too? I easily believed in God when my life was good and happy before the divorce and before I started acting. Everything that had happened in my life that was bad happened after Dad left Mom and me. All I knew was that there was a lot of pain and loneliness. I understood that Dad needed to divorce Mom to find happiness and have a better life. He got that out of the divorce. He found Celia and is completely in love with her. Mom didn’t find happiness. I thought that I had found happiness with you and just learned that I’m a mess. Either God is here for the bad stuff, too, or there’s no God.”
“God is here always, Lia. Sometimes the bad stuff is what we need to become who we should be, to get stronger, to learn. God is the sun and the moon at the same time. Sometimes there’s an eclipse where the bad stuff is all darkness. The dark and light are both there. Right now, there’s more darkness so I needed to go to church today to pray for more light, to get help seeing the sun again without burning my eyes.” He held my hand. “You think I’m a God freak, don’t you?”
“No, Manuel. You have a halo, a pure soul.” I looked into his smiling eyes as I drove into the garage. “I see it in those sweet, gorgeous eyes of yours. I love you, my guardian.”
~ THE LAB ~
Dad and I felt like we walked through a labyrinth of hallways to find the lab. We were both already anxious and getting lost several times did not improve our moods. “Finally!” I exclaimed when we saw the doctor waiting for us in the hallway.
Dad shook his hand. “Thank you, Jacques, for helping us.”
“Oh, please, call me Jack.” He turned to me and shook my hand. “I’m sorry I forgot to introduce myself to you yesterday. Please follow me.”
He slid his key card into the door to the lab. We followed him.
“I’m Tom Durglo and this is…”
I immediately pulled Dad’s arm to interrupt him. “I’m sorry. Is it okay if I just go by CSY7? As an actress I have learned to guard my privacy. Since you’re working with the FBI, I hope my name and that of my mother’s be kept out of your documentation if that’s possible.”
“Sure. I’ll call you CSY7. It stands for Case Study Youth number seven. I’ll let the FBI make its own choice, though—it isn’t my call.”
“Thank you. My mother also took the drug as an alternative to plastic surgery. She started taking it five years ago. She said that a fellow actor, who now has cancer, told her about it. He started taking it six years ago.”
Jack protested, “Irresponsible. Completely irresponsible! No wonder Mark disappeared. It’s like doping for cyclists or steroids for athletes. I can’t believe what he has done.”
I added, “And something my mom said yesterday that you should know. I have never felt sick, and my mom said that she and her friend also felt better, not worse, while on x-nib. Maybe we all felt good because we all took an expensive immunity enhancement medicine that my mom said Mark sold exclusively to us. You were surprised yesterday that I felt fine while on x-nib. That must be why.”
His face changed. “Mark must have figured it out. After we developed x-nib, we worked together for years on an immunity enhancer to ease the pain of our HIV, AIDS, and cancer patients. Our results were inconclusive, and we parted ways. He must have decided to keep his solution secret to profit in the short term rather than develop the drug through FDA approval, marketing and distribution. That process takes years.”
Jack slouched. “He could have kept hundreds of thousands of people from suffering… I developed the drug to help cure people and the realization that it has been debased literally nauseates me. It’s deplorable.”
Jack gestured for us to take a seat. Dad put his arm around me as we walked to the desk. “I’ll just make some notes. Then we’ll get started.”
The office was a mess. File folders were everywhere. Several computer/microscope stations were cluttered with papers and empty water bottles. The back of the lab was full of cages of mice and of vials and bottles in refrigerated cases that resembled the frozen food aisle of a grocery store.
“I’d like to get started right away. Can you tell me your story from when you started taking x-nib? I’ll listen, write questions and thoughts down while you talk, and then ask you questions after. I’ll try not to interrupt.”
I started, “My mom took it first and felt great. I was thirteen. I had painful periods and looked like I do today. I met with Dr. Mark at the end of April, the month I turned fourteen. I started taking the immunity medicine the first day we met and took it every day since I was fourteen until this past March when I left it behind on set. I started taking the x-nib on May 1st, four years ago. I was on a cycle of 2 weeks on, 1 week off, for six months. I stopped having a period that summer before the end of the first six month mark, so maybe four months into it. He said he expected that I’d lose my menstrual cycle but that my period would return, as well as my cramping, when I got off of x-nib. I just figured I’d get off of it when I wanted to have kids. I did notice that he reduced the dosage amount every time we met for both medicines. I would have expected another dosage reduction for this six month cycle that should have started today. When I met him after I turned fifteen, I complained that I felt nauseous often, fatigue, and felt like I couldn’t think. He told me to call him as soon as I felt severe headaches or problems with my vision. That happened right before I turned sixteen. It was like I had tunnel vision. My joints also hurt. My headaches were awful. I asked him if I could just get off the medicine since the headaches were daily and so much worse than two days of cramping a month, but he said that I couldn’t just stop the medicine, that he would continue to reduce the dosages.”
I added, “Oh, I forgot. I did take two Excedrins this morning, out of habit. I hope that doesn’t mess up your tests.”
“Do you have chronic headaches?”
“Yeah, just two months ago I had to take six pain killers per day. Now I take two.”
“How about your menstrual cycle? Has it returned?”
“No. That hasn’t changed.”
“What about your sexual drive? Irregular or nonexistent menses and loss of sexual drive is a symptom of hypopituitarism.”
“Yeah, actually I have only now felt aroused within the last month. I read about the symptoms and I had all of them,” I said, completely embarrassed. “I had the blurry vision and the morning nausea, too.”
“I’m so sorry you have to go through this. It must be quite a shock. Should I talk with your dad about this now? I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on with you.”
“No, I want to know.”
“You’re describing symptoms of a non-functioning pituitary tumor. There is a loss of hormonal function with increasing damage: the first to go is the growth hormone, next is your LH and FSH which control your sexual and reproductive function, then TSH which releases your thyroid hormone and last your ACTH which controls adrenal function.” He wrote more things down while I tried to understand what he just said.
Dr. Jack viewed me carefully, gauging my reaction to the news. I could tell, again, that his brain quickly switched between two tracks. “So your body is changing. The headaches are caused by the ‘mass’ effect from the pituitary tumor. Mark
surely knew this. That must be why he reduced the dosage each cycle. I’m surprised he didn’t use hormone therapy. He must have had his reasons. Somehow x-nib caused pituitary failure and immediately created a non-functioning tumor. Most of these tumors are benign. My son also had the tumor but we removed it successfully, with very minimal damage to the gland.”
He wrote notes to himself, concentrating on figuring out what Mark knew at the same time that he continued talking, “I would like to run most of my tests on your blood. I’d like to do a hormonal evaluation. I’d also like to do an MRI with and without contrast. I need to x-ray your wrist; measure your bone growth. Would that be okay with you? I also need to test you for secondary malignancies. Some of the tests hurt. Would that be alright?”
I swallowed, suppressing my fear. My eyes watered and I couldn’t get the words out. I held Dad’s hand and nodded.
Dad got up and lifted me onto his lap as he sat back down. “I love you, my filly.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s get started,” he whispered to Dr. Jack.
~ DRAINED ~
We were there for most of the day. I was drained—literally. Dad ran into the grocery store on the way home while I waited in the car. He bought some feminine products for me just in case I menstruated, groceries for himself for the week and some yummies for us to share after we ate dinner. After we returned to the house we ate our separate meals and shared dessert. Then I went straight to bed.
Despite my tragic weekend, I felt rested. I checked my phone. It was 4 am Monday morning. I would work out at 5:30 am that day as I did every weekday. I missed Manuel terribly. I was comforted that Dad was in the guest suite but wished Manuel was there in my bed. I wanted him to be my husband so he could be in my bed when Dad slept downstairs.
Manuel wouldn’t be sleeping with me because, well, Dad certainly wouldn’t allow it and Manuel liked to study and then rest, study again, rest, and so on. He said it helped him learn better if he let his mind absorb the material in bursts. He had finals for the next three days but had nothing on Thursday or Friday. Everyone in AP classes had already taken their exams. My last two finals were on Thursday, back-to-back.
I went to the kitchen to get breakfast from the marked container in the fridge. I felt defeated but I needed to forget my worries and start my day. I had to exercise. I had to take my finals. I stood in front of the window in the living room. I found comfort from the colors in the canyon. It was dawn.
I went back to my room to put on my swimsuit so I could soak in the hot tub and watch the colors change in the valley as the sun rose and fog came in. I would be ready for finals as long as I calmed my worries about my health. Dad was outside on the chaise when I went outside.
“Dad, did you sleep out here?”
“Come here, my filly.” He opened his arm and opened his blanket so I could snuggle with him. I instantly felt loved being next to him.
“I can’t forgive your mom because I can’t forgive myself for leaving you both. I let the hate I had for the industry consume me. I should have been more balanced. Michelle urged me to find balance. She found a riding stable for sale that I could fix up and manage in Temescal Canyon. I didn’t even try. I gave her an ultimatum: it was either me or acting. That wasn’t fair. Look what I drove her to do…”
He couldn’t finish. He held me. I comforted him. “Dad, everyone is responsible for their own actions. It’s not your fault.”
“My filly, life is much more complicated than that. Yes, we’re responsible for our own actions, but our actions are always in reaction to the situation. When a horse bucks off a rider, it’s rarely the horse’s fault. The more stressful the situation the more the reasons to take action get blurred with emotion. I left you both, which was…wrong. But I had to get out of here, out of L.A., this culture. Michelle was desperate and alone with you. She was stressed and made a horrendous decision.”
He didn’t want to talk anymore. “I’m sorry, Lia. I love you and am sorry I let you down.”
There was no need to pretend that he didn’t let me down because it was certainly true that he did. I missed him every day since he left. I needed him for the last five years, and a summer every year or brief trip to Palo Alto or the weekly phone call just didn’t cut it.
I said the only thing I could say, “I love you, too, Dad.”
I sat with him as the sun rose and then left to get ready for my workout.
~ FINALS ~
Dad was in the living room when I got home from my first day of finals. He greeted me, “Lia, come here.” I sat with him on the couch.
“I met Jack at UCLA today and with the FBI agents assigned to the investigation. He gave us a run-down of the crime. He expedited your labs and is analyzing the results of what he has so far. I’ve arranged for him to see Michelle on Sunday after graduation. He wants to see you again, too.
“After Jack left, I gave the agents your and Michelle’s contact information. They’ll respect your request for confidentiality, but want you to be sure to cooperate with them immediately upon request. Jack will continue to know you only as CSY7, but honestly all he has to do is watch TV to know who you are.”
I laughed. “Good, then he won’t know who we are. I’m sure he didn’t recognize me or you—which was kind of weird—so I get the feeling that pop culture is not one of his interests.”
“No,” Dad agreed. “Not when he is trying to save his son, which is what I wanted to talk to you about. His son is nineteen. He was treated with x-nib when Michelle was, five years ago. He had some type of leukemia that was resistant to the treatments they tried, but x-nib cured him. The only side effects that he had were the same tumor you have and the same slow aging that you have experienced. Other than having a weak immune system, he’s healthy.”
“But Dr. Jack freaked out that I was on both drugs for four years. He said that it was an aggressive chemotherapy, a last resort.” I admitted, “I’m worried that I might die tomorrow.”
“At this time, there is no need to worry about you dying, and Jack is confident that they will have a cure soon. They know the issue is with your pituitary gland. With the new data you and Michelle can offer, he is sure that his team will figure it out. Already, he said that your existence has made him think of new possibilities. He already wants to give his patients the immunity booster once he talks with Michelle and analyzes her prescriptions.”
He hugged me tightly and kissed my forehead. “You’re not going to die of this, filly.”
I was more than relieved, but I had to ask, “What about missing my period? Will that be… permanent?”
“I wish I could remember his words. But he thinks you’ll menstruate again. His son can reproduce. He’ll run tests on how your tissues respond to the chemo alone, the chemo with the immunity drug in combo, and the immunity drug alone.” He handed me a piece of paper. “You’re going to need support. Dr. Jack included his son’s email. He’s the [email protected] address. He’s been through this and can help you. He lives in Geneva, Switzerland with his mom and sisters.”
I exhaled and closed my eyes. So much worry. So much speculation was exhausting.
“Dad? Can you do me a favor?”
“Sure. What?”
“Can I be a kid just a while longer and have the adults handle the whole cancer discussion with the doctor thing and keep me out of the speculation? I spent all day thinking I was going to live a long, lonely life as an infertile old maid.”
“You’re my little filly. Yes. I can do that …for now.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’m going to go shower now. I feel grimy.”
I walked to my room and logged into my new Gmail account.
I decided to reach out to Jack’s son. He lived through having leukemia. Jack said he would help. I wondered what time it was in Switzerland.
Hi 6. I’m CSY7.
I just met your dad Saturday. He did tests on me yesterday. He was looking for any cancer growth that x-nib could have caused and said I have a non-functioning tumor, just like y
ou had.
He said that I could talk to you about stuff. I write better normally, but this is hard because I am not used to talking to strangers. I’m a celebrity and shouldn’t tell you who I am, so please, let’s call each other by our case number. That bone marrow needle was really creepy, by the way. Your dad said you’ve had that done several times. Ouch. I’m glad I couldn’t feel it entirely. It still hurt like hell, though.
I’m 18. I just found out that my mom gave me Xrysinib when I was 14. I’ve taken it for 4 years. She takes it, too, started 5 years ago, as an alternative to plastic surgery—to look young.
I know it was despicable to give me the drug, but now I’m trying to cope. The past is the past. I’m now looking for hope. Your dad said that it cured you but now people have died who took it. Are you afraid?
The thing that knots my stomach most is that the one thing I wanted most in life was to find love, have babies, have grandkids. Dr. Mark said that my menstrual cycle would return when I’m off x-nib. Now I don’t believe him because I don’t believe anything he said. I’m worried that I won’t be able to have babies. I don’t think I could ask any one that I really loved to marry me knowing that he could never have children with me. It wouldn’t be fair to him. I’d adopt to have kids, even though I’d be forever single. I’m worried that my mom will die. —CSY7
I pressed send, knowing that the email was a confusing mess of thoughts but also knowing I was safe from judgment because CSY6 would never know me.
When I got out of my shower, Dad was on the phone with someone from his clinic. I studied for finals and saw that I had an email on my Gmail account.
Hi CSY7. Please don’t despair.
First, I want to tell you how sorry I am that you’ve experienced such a blow. Next I want to tell you to have hope. I have hope.
