Chapter 11 - Logan
“How is this possible?”
Logan was sitting in a silk upholstered chair next to her father and mother in the office of Dr. Warren Heflin, a pulmonary specialist that Chuck Lowery had been referred to by his doctor when his CT scans had come back with abnormalities. And he’d just given the Lowerys the worst news of their lives.
Chuck Lowery had stage four lung cancer.
“He’s never even smoked,” Logan said, leaning forward. “He runs every day, eats well. There’s just no possible way this is happening.”
She said it more to herself than to anyone sitting around her.
Chuck grabbed his only daughter’s hand. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. Sometimes there’s no explanation for why this happens.”
Logan looked at her father, tears stinging her eyes. She should have been comforting him, and here he was comforting her. It was his way. It broke her heart.
Her mother leaned forward, her face pale.
“So what happens now?” Tracy Lowery said, grabbing Chuck’s other hand. “Can we beat this? We have to try, right?”
Dr. Heflin looked at her with sympathy in his eyes. “Your husband has a non-typical type of lung cancer. It has something called an ALK gene mutation. This means that an abnormal protein is forcing the cancerous cells to divide and multiply. We do have medication that can stop the proteins from the nasty work of spreading the cancer.”
Logan interrupted. “So that’s good news, right?” Logan looked over at her father, suddenly hopeful. “They can cure this!”
Dr. Heflin held up a hand. “There is no cure for this, Logan. We have two medications that can fight this, but over time your father will develop a resistance to each one. And unless we can develop news ways of combating the protein, it will still be a tough battle.”
“How long until I become resistant to the drugs, Doc?” Chuck’s voice was solemn.
Dr. Heflin sighed. “It’s hard to say. Usually about 8 months. I have seen it happen in as long as 10. That’s what we hope for. But within less than 2 years of treatment, there is not much else we can do.”
Logan couldn’t help it. She lashed out.
“You don’t know my father,” Logan said. “He’s stronger than most of your patients. He doesn’t know what it’s like to lose. Did you know he played in the majors? He’s a hell of a man and my hero, so I know he can beat this.”
Logan was saying it to herself as much as she was saying it to everyone in that room.
Dr. Heflin nodded. “That’s the kind of spirit he’ll need, Logan. And I hate to tell you this but cancer doesn’t care what we’ve done with the time we’ve had. If only it did. People like your dad would be the last ones I’d expect to get this kind of news.” The doctor looked at Chuck. “It’s not a good diagnosis, Chuck. I won’t lie. This is probably going to get you in the end. But you can still fight it and lengthen the time you have left. I believe in you.”
Tracy Lowery couldn’t hold it in anymore. She started to cry, her sobs full of anguish. Logan couldn’t bear this. Of the few things she couldn’t take, her mother’s cries were at the top of that list.
“I’ll leave you alone. Take all the time you need. I’m truly sorry. I’ll do everything I can…” Dr. Heflin didn’t finish his sentence.
No one was listening to him anymore.
* * *
“It’s going to be alright, Logan,” her father said as he drove her back to her dorm at Xavier. “Look, I don’t want you worrying about me. You’ve got your first game ahead of you. This is the beginning of so many great things.” He pulled over in front of the main entrance to the school. Logan leaned her head back against her seat, not wanting to get out of the car; afraid to leave him.
Her father smiled and pointed at the giant X that greeted students into Xavier’s sprawling metropolitan campus. “Look, kiddo. X marks the spot.”
Normally this would make Logan roll her eyes at her father’s silly “Dad” jokes. But instead it made her cry, a cry that shook her to her core.
“Logan,” her father’s voice was stern now. “There will be no tears shed for me. I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere. And you are always my daughter, even if… Even if for some reason I am not here anymore. And you are destined for great things. This is just a bump in the road, my little love.”
Logan stared at him, amazed that he was speaking to her like it was any other day, as if he hadn’t just been told that he was dying. “It’s not just a bump, Dad. It’s a meteor sized blast straight to my heart.”
Her father pulled her to him, allowing her to cry into his shoulders for a few minutes, to let the frustration and pain out.
He’d done it many a time. Logan had sobbed into his shoulders over lost games, unfair calls, fights with friends, and frustration over her own growing pains.
He was her father after all. And even cancer could never change that.