Chapter 47: Would You Define 'Good'?

May 13, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

I was stunned but moved quickly to sit next to her and put my arm around her.

"What exactly did the doctor say?" Kristy asked.

"That the lab found leukemic blast cells in my blood smear, and saw what they called Auer rods. I need a bone marrow biopsy to confirm."

"When?" I asked.

"Monday at the hospital," she replied.

"If you have it," I asked, "is it treatable?"

"With chemo."

"How can we help you?" I asked.

"Just hug me, please," she requested.

I helped her into my lap and wrapped my arms around her.

"I think it might be best for me to go back to the dorm," Meg suggested.

"Probably," I replied. "Sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about! Kristy, could I get a ride."

"Yes. Jack and I will take you."

"Jonathan, call me, OK?" Meg requested.

"I will. Please don't share Keiko's news until she says you can."

"I promise I won't," Meg said.

"Neither will we," Jack confirmed.

The three of them left, leaving Keiko and me on the couch.

"Sorry I ruined your evening," she said.

"I care for you, and I want to help you in any way I can. Don't worry about Meg or about me. What else do you know about it?"

"Not much, except that it explains the low white blood cell count, anemia, and fatigue. There are too many different forms with very different outcomes, so the doctor said we need to wait for the results of the tests on Monday."

"Who have you told?"

"Just you, well, and Meg, Jack, and Kristy. Thank you for asking them not to share."

"It's something only you should share. When did you find out?"

"The doctor's office called just after I arrived home from class, and I was the only one here."

"What's involved in the tests?"

"They do an aspiration, that is, suck out fluid with a needle, and then take a small piece of bone marrow. It's done with a local anesthetic."

"Do you need me to be with you?" I asked.

"It's at 1:00pm at Rush-Presbyterian."

"How long does the procedure take?"

"About thirty minutes, start to finish."

"I can swing that by taking a late lunch and skipping the gym, if you either come to the Hancock Center or I meet you at the hospital."

"I think you should meet me there because I have to check in at 12:30pm to fill out paperwork."

"OK. What do you need now?"

"Just hold me, please."

"Cuddle in bed?" I suggested.

"Yes."

I carried Keiko up to my room, undressed her, and then took off my clothes. We got into bed, and she snuggled close. I wrapped my arms around her and held her as she'd requested.

May 16, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

I'd spent the weekend with Keiko and had canceled my other plans, which meant not seeing Marcia or Teri. I was vague with them, as Keiko didn't want the news spreading until she had more information. As I'd promised her, I arrived at Rush-Presbyterian Hospital at 12:50pm on Monday afternoon to be with her while she had her test. I sat with my arm around her until a nurse called her name. We got up and walked over.

"The test procedure can be somewhat disconcerting," the nurse said to me. "Are you confident you can handle it?"

"I promised Keiko I'd be with her," I said. "So yes."

"OK," she said. "Please follow me."

She took us to a room and instructed Keiko to undress and put on a gown and special socks with grippy soles.

"Your friend can wait in the hallway, if you want."

Keiko smiled, "We're lovers, so he's seen it all."

"Then I'll leave you. Everything off before you put on the gown and socks, please, then lie down on the exam table. The doctor will be in to see you in about ten minutes."

She left, closing the door behind her, and Keiko quickly undressed, put on the gown which she had me tie, then put on the socks. She got onto the exam table, and I sat down in a chair next to it. A few minutes later, the nurse returned with a doctor who introduced himself as Ken Webber. We shook hands, and he explained the procedure to Keiko, then washed his hands and put on gloves.

The nurse uncovered an instrument tray, and they had Keiko turn on her stomach. Keiko reached out her hand, and I took it while the nurse cleaned a spot on her lower back with alcohol. Next, the doctor injected lidocaine, then waited a few minutes for it to take effect. I decided I could handle seeing the procedure done, so I turned my head to see him use a needle to suck out some fluid, then use some kind of tool that looked like an awl to take out a piece of bone. Keiko said it was mostly uncomfortable and didn't hurt too badly.

The doctor let Keiko know that the samples would go to the lab right away and be examined, and she should have an answer by Tuesday afternoon, but she'd hear directly from her doctor, not him. He left, and the nurse put a dressing on the small wound, then had Keiko lie in a specific position for ten minutes to ensure there wasn't excessive bleeding. The nurse left, saying she'd return in ten minutes.

"How are you," I asked.

"OK," Keiko replied. "It hurts a little bit, but not a lot. Thank you for being here with me."

"I promise to do everything in my power to help you," I said.

"You're a very kind person," Keiko said.

"Thanks. I assume you'll tell your parents the diagnosis?"

"Yes, but I don't think I should do it by telephone if it's what the doctor suspects."

"Probably not. I don't have class tomorrow evening, so I could go with you, if you want. Beth will understand."

"I appreciate you making me your priority," Keiko said.

"We both know the path we're on," I said.

"We do," she said with a smile.

The nurse returned, examined the procedure site, and said everything looked good. She gave Keiko permission to get dressed, then left. Keiko began dressing, once she had on all her clothes, we left the room. We made our way out of the hospital, and as we each had our cars, we hugged, exchanged a kiss, and I headed back to the office. I called Beth and let her know I had to cancel our date, and I promised to call her soon to reschedule.

The rest of the afternoon was otherwise normal, and after work, I joined Violet for dinner, then went to class, had coffee and pie, then headed home. I changed clothes, then called Bev to find out how her first day at work had gone.

"It was mostly orientation and meeting people," she said. "I'll start working for real tomorrow. I appreciate everything you've done, Jonny!"

"You know I love you, Bev! Let's have lunch on Thursday, if you can swing it."

"I think I can. Call me that morning to confirm, OK?"

"I will."

We said 'goodbye', and I went to the door to Keiko's room.

"Want to come to bed?" I asked.

"Yes!" she exclaimed.

She got up from her bed, where she'd been reading a textbook, and followed me to my room. As we'd done the previous night, we undressed and got into bed, with Keiko snuggling close.

"Do you want to make love?" she asked.

"If you want to and you feel up to it.

"I do. Love me, please."

May 17, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

On Tuesday, I was on pins and needles all day, waiting for Keiko to call to let me know what the doctor had said. The call finally came at 3:47pm and was what I'd feared.

"I have Acute Myeloblastic Leukemia with maturation," Keiko said, her voice shaking.

"I have no idea what that means," I replied.

"It's a bone marrow cancer that affects blood cells that develop into white blood cells," Keiko said, sounding a bit stronger. "It prevents bone marrow cells from properly maturing, which results in an accumulation of immature myeloblast cells. Those are the cells that develop into blood cells."

"And the treatment?"

"Chemo, as I said. I have to see an oncologist at Rush-Presbyterian on Friday. He'll explain everything."

"I'll go with you," I said. "Do you know when your appointment is?"

"3:00pm."

"OK. I'll arrange it with work. Did your doctor say anything else?"

"No. He's a GP, so he's not well-versed in cancer."

"Are we going to your parents' house?"

"My grandfather's house. I'm going to tell him first."

"OK. I'll see you at home at 5:30pm."

"I'll call my grandfather and say we want to come visit."

"Whatever you feel is best," I said.

"Thanks, Jonathan."

We said 'goodbye', and I went to see Mr. Matheson. He was on the phone, and Anna said she'd let me know when he was available, which he was about ten minutes later. I explained the situation, and he approved me leaving the office at 2:30pm on Friday, which wasn't a major inconvenience, as that was only thirty minutes before the market closed.

"I hope she responds well to chemo," he said.

"Me, too," I agreed.

I thanked him, then left his office to complete my work for the day. At 5:00pm, I left the office, met Jack in the lobby, and we went to my car.

"Keiko's diagnosis of leukemia was confirmed," I said as I backed out of the parking spot.

"Oh, shit!" Jack said. "How bad is it?"

"We won't know until Friday; I'm going with her to see an oncologist."

"Chemo really knocks you out," Jack said. "She has, what, two weeks of class after this week?"

"Yes. I can't imagine they won't make an accommodation of some kind. Maybe she can take her final exams early. I'll discuss that with her this evening. We're going to her grandfather's house so she can tell him."

"Not her parents?"

"This is what she wants to do, and I don't think I'm in any position to question what she wants at the moment."

"You're right, of course. It would throw me for multiple loops. You seem pretty calm."

"I did a tiny bit of research, so take this with a grain of salt because I can't vouch for the sources, but many forms of leukemia are treatable, and young people have a very good chance of beating it. A lot depends on which type because there appear to be dozens of types and subtypes."

"How'd you find that?"

"I used the Nexis system and found a few articles, but they weren't from medical journals or whatever, so as I said, I don't know how reliable they are. I'm sure the doctor will have the best information."

When we arrived home, it was obvious Keiko had revealed her diagnosis to the other girls as they were all sitting with her in the great room with grim looks. I greeted everyone, hugged Keiko, then went upstairs to change into slacks and a polo shirt, then went back downstairs. Keiko had called her grandfather, and he'd invited us for dinner, so we left right away for his house.

"How are you doing?" I asked once I'd pulled out of the driveway into the alley.

"I alternate from emotional to numb," Keiko said. "I'm trying hard to keep it together."

"Just let me know what I can do."

"You're doing it," she said.

"OK, but anything, seriously. Promise you'll ask."

"I will."

"What do you plan to say to your grandfather?"

"Just what I know."

"And your parents?"

"I plan to tell my grandfather when we're having tea after we eat. I think once I've done that, I'll call my parents and see if we can stop by. They live less than thirty minutes from my grandfather's house.

"I think that sounds reasonable," I agreed. "Have you told Ellie?"

"No. I'll do that tomorrow at school."

"You might want to speak to your counselor about taking your exams early if you're going to start chemo. I hear it can be really rough."

"Kristy suggested that before you came home. I'll do that tomorrow."

We arrived at Ichirō's house, and I remembered and put into practice the etiquette that Keiko had taught me for our previous visit. The meal was excellent, and I wondered if Keiko's grandparents detected the stress which she was under. It didn't appear so, as they behaved similarly to how they had during my previous visit. When tea and cakes were served after the meal, Keiko broke her news.

"祖父 (Sofu), I have leukemia," she said, then began sobbing. ("Grandfather")

I put my arm around her as a look of complete shock passed over her grandfather's face, and her grandmother, Atsuko, immediately broke down in tears.

"What did the doctor tell you," Ichirō asked stoically.

Keiko was sobbing, so I answered.

"Not much," I said. "We're going to see an oncologist at Rush-Presbyterian on Friday at 3:00pm. According to what Keiko's doctor said, the usual treatment is chemotherapy. We'll know more on Friday."

"Has she informed her parents?" Ichirō asked.

"No. She wanted to come here first. We might see them after we leave."

"I think we should call them," Atsuko said, having recovered enough to speak.

"Keiko?" I inquired.

She nodded, then turned so she could put her head on my chest while I held her.

Ichirō got up and went to the phone and placed a call which was entirely in Japanese. When he hung up, he returned to the table and sat down.

"They will be here in about twenty-five minutes," he said. "I simply said that Keiko had something she wanted to share with them."

I wasn't sure that was a good idea, as I was positive that the first thing that would come to mind was that Keiko and I were announcing our engagement. That couldn't be helped, as I didn't feel it was right to tell them over the telephone about Keiko's illness. She'd given me the diagnosis over the phone, but that was only a confirmation of what she'd told me face-to-face the previous Friday.

"How did you know to be tested?" Ichirō asked.

Keiko had recovered enough to answer herself, so I remained quiet.

"I felt very tired all the time," she said. "I spoke to a nurse at school, and she suggested I might have anemia. I do, but they also detected a low white blood cell count, so they did further blood tests. Those showed I might have leukemia, so I had a bone marrow biopsy on Friday, which confirmed it."

"How long have you known?"

"I received the biopsy results this afternoon," Keiko said. "I called Jonathan to tell him because he was with me when I had the test, then called you to arrange to have dinner."

We sipped tea until Keiko's parents, Itsurō and Hanako, arrived. From the looks on their faces, I was fairly certain they assumed what I'd thought they might, and I knew they were in for a huge shock. They sat down, and Atsuko poured them tea.

"«お父さん, お母さん» (Otōsan, Okāsan), I have leukemia," Keiko said. ("Dad, Mom")

"Oh no!" Hanako gasped. "It cannot be true!"

"It is," Keiko said.

"Are you sure, Keiko-chan?" Itsurō asked.

"Yes, I had tests because I was feeling very tired, and they told me today. I'm meeting an oncologist on Friday to find out about chemotherapy."

"Come home, Keiko-chan," Hanako said.

"I want to stay with Jonathan," Keiko said.

"You need to be home with us!" Hanako insisted.

"Jonathan, would you let us speak privately with Keiko?" Itsurō asked.

Ichirō said something in Japanese to his son, which caused his daughter-in-law to become visibly angry and say something in Japanese, which seemed to start an argument.

"Keiko, do you want me to go?" I asked quietly.

"No," she replied quietly. "My mom is, well, I explained about her."

"But if it would get her to calm down."

Keiko put her hand on my arm, "Grandfather wants you to stay."

The argument lasted several minutes, with Keiko simply sitting quietly.

"Keiko-chan will stay at Jonathan's house," Ichirō declared in English.

"Thank you, 祖父 (Sofu)," she said. ("Grandfather")

"I promise to take care of her," I said.

"I know you will," Ichirō said.

The glare from his daughter-in-law, Keiko's mom, was withering, but I didn't particularly care because Keiko's opinion was the only one that truly mattered to me.

"Keiko-chan," her dad said, "Please call me if you need anything at all, and I want to speak to the doctor, if that's OK."

"Yes, of course, «お父さん» (Otōsan)." ("Dad")

We finished our tea, and Keiko said she wanted to go home to sleep, so we said 'goodbye'. Keiko received hugs from her parents and grandparents, and I bowed to all of them.

"May I ask about the argument your mom was having with your grandfather?" I inquired once we were in my car.

"My mother thinks I need to be at home."

"You know I'm a straight shooter," I said. "Just tell me what she said."

"That I need to be in a Japanese house because your house has no «kami»."

"I apologize in advance for being ignorant, but how would we bring «kami» into my house?"

"But you don't believe in them," Keiko said.

"It's true that I don't, but you do, at least after a fashion, and that's what matters. Is that something you would want to do?"

"It is normal for a Japanese household, yes."

"What would we need to do?" I asked.

"To start? We would need a «神棚» (kamidana), a 'Spirit Shelf', similar to the one my grandfather has. You've seen it. Besides the items you saw, there also need to be «お札/御札» (ofuda), which are slips of paper with the names of my ancestors. We'd also need a Shinto priest to bless it."

"Where are we going to find a Shinto priest in Chicago?"

"There is a Shinto priest at the Buddhist Temple of Chicago, which is close to the Lawrence stop on the L on the way into the city from your house."

"Wow!" I exclaimed in surprise. "That close? I had no idea! What else?"

"There are four affirmations of Shinto that we would need to follow. First, to hold fast to tradition and family, which I do. You honor our traditions at my grandfather's house, and it would be doing some similar things here, if you're willing."

"None of the things you've asked me to do goes against anything I believe, so I think we can find a way. What's the second thing?"

"To love nature, which I don't believe is a problem for you, given what you told me about where you grew up."

Which included shooting rabbits and deer, which I wasn't going to mention.

"So, flowers and maybe some of those Japanese miniature trees?"

"You mean «盆栽», (bonsai)," Keiko replied. "Yes, and flowers inside and outside would be good."

"So far, so good," I said. "Next?"

Keiko laughed softly, "Physical cleanliness. You love showers and baths, so no problems there, though it would be nice to have a Japanese bath."