For a second, while he sat on the exam room bed being checked by a nurse, Joe remembered that first night in prison.
Soaked in terror sweat, eyes awake, body numb from the hard slab bed, head hearing and seeing things that weren’t there.
Everything in him back then and every aspect of his life could be summed up in one word:
Rage.
This was what made him kill a man with his bare hands. This was what sent him to Stateville, where more than half the inmates were convicted murderers. This was what kept him safe and alive those early days behind bars. This was even what finally brought him to his knees.
A raging fire finally being quenched and put out.
That man was long gone, and the fire that used to be there had been replaced by another fire out of his control. The kind that brought him back to the hospital, back to being prodded and picked over.
Joe had tried to joke with the nurse, but she didn’t feel like laughing. Or talking. Or even really looking at him. So he’d shut himself up and let her do her job in peace.
“Sorry I’m a bit soaked,” he told her.
His T-shirt looked the way it might have if he’d been working out on the beach in the middle of a hot Chicago day. He’d been sweating ever since leaving the church around lunchtime.
The doctor who eventually showed up didn’t seem to be too friendly, either. He gave Joe a firm handshake and introduced himself as Dr. Farell. The nurse took out the digital thermometer that had been in his ear to give him the news.
“Fever’s one-oh-four point six,” she told the doctor. “He’s burning up.”
Don’t think you need to be a doctor to see that.
Dr. Farell looked at the iPad that the nurse had been working on. “Any conditions I should know about?”
“T-cell prolymphocytic leukemia. Stage four.”
Now this certainly got their attention. Both of them gave him that look, the one Joe knew well by now. The kind that people gave him even when they didn’t know what the T-cell thing meant or how to even pronounce prolymphocytic. The look was like a death sentence, like someone about to watch a hanging. Most people don’t know that this is one of the most rare kinds of leukemia, but he was betting the handsome young doc here knew it.
“There’s also severe anemia,” Joe continued. “Spleen and liver badly enlarged.”
“Name of your oncologist?” Dr. Farell asked.
Joe liked this guy. He liked the fact that there was no trace of false hope or sympathy. This doctor wanted the facts and those were the facts, and okay then what’s next?
“Dr. Emil Baranek. Stateville Correctional Center.”
The nurse left them behind, having heard enough. Dead man walking, gotta get to my other patients. The doctor simply gave a nod at the name.
“I assume you’re out on compassionate leave?”
“Yeah,” Joe said.
There was something so neat and orderly about the man standing in front of him. Joe would bet that this guy used one of those hair trimmers for his nose and ears. Probably got his hair cut every couple of weeks. Worked out regularly, got his clothes dry-cleaned, drove a luxury car, had a trophy wife or girlfriend.
But is your soul as orderly as everything else?
The messy, broken souls were the ones easiest to save. The ones Joe had met who lived safe, comfortable lives were often the most difficult to get on their knees.
Eventually, we’ll all go on our knees, either in this life or the next.
“What about care since your release?” Dr. Farell asked.
Joe offered a sad sort of chuckle. “Well, mostly I just pray. I came in here the other night, but I never got treated. Ended up sleeping outdoors.”
The doctor squinted his eyebrows and gave him a look of disbelief. “So—you’re living on borrowed time, with a highly compromised immune system, and you decided to spend the night outside?”
“It’s complicated,” Joe said.
He didn’t assume the doctor would want to hear the whole story, nor would he appreciate it in the least.
“There’s an infection roaring through your system,” Dr. Farell reminded him. “And it’s highly unlikely I can stop it. I’ll admit you. We can make you comfortable, but that’s about it.”
Joe thought about the other night, the chance meeting of Lily and Samantha. He couldn’t help a smile starting to sneak out over his face thinking of the pair.
“Offhand, I’d say your little ‘urban camping’ adventure shaved your time down from weeks to a matter of days, if not less.”
Joe gave Dr. No-Nonsense a nod. The guy wouldn’t and couldn’t understand and Joe didn’t even want to try.
“Yeah, well—it was worth it.”