Agnosia

August 3, 2006

Jim had always heard that when you’re dying, your whole life flashes before your eyes.  He hoped that was true, because that definitely wasn’t what he was experiencing right now.  In truth, he didn’t really know what he was experiencing.  Yes, he was aware that he was in the hospital, but there were only fleeting moments of being aware of the bed he was laying in and the room around him.  

What Jim mostly saw were people.  His family.  His friends growing up.  Even his coworkers that he hadn’t seen since he left for Stamford.  But mostly, he saw Pam.  Not any specific memory, really, just… her.  An image of her at her desk, one of her sitting across from him at dinner, another in his parents house meeting the family.  They were images of things that had happened, but it wasn’t exactly the memory of those events. He didn’t really know what it was, everything was very confusing.  

Soon, Jim started experiencing something else.  The mental image of all of his dreams coming true. It started with him sitting back down at his desk at Dunder Mifflin.

Then there was a ring.

And then a wedding.

And two tiny voices echoing from the backyard of their house.  They had a house!

He was seeing the future he had always wanted, the future that was within his grasp.  Suddenly, the urge to wake up out of this delirium overtook him completely, as if he gained an immediate understanding of his own condition.  He slowly opened his eyes and returned to the real world.

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Pam checked her watch - it was about 7:00 on a Thursday.  She had stopped over at the hospital about an hour ago after taking care of some errands after work.  Michael insisted that she bring over a massively oversized card for Jim, even though the office had already given him a card when he first checked into the hospital and Michael had sent over 3 more since then.  Why couldn’t Michael just have a litt…

“Ugh... hi.”

“Oh my god, Jim.  Hey, don’t move, let me get the nurse.”

Soon the room filled up with activity and nurses and doctors came to check on Jim.  He had been unconscious for 3 days.  Yesterday, the doctors had told them that his bloodwork had finally started to look better and he might be turning a corner with his cancer.  Still, his immune system was wrecked and there was a lot of risk until he recovered from the pneumonia.  

After the whirlwind of activity died down, the doctor finally told Pam that Jim would probably be asleep and in and out of consciousness for the rest of the day, but they could expect him to be more fully aware tomorrow.  He was awake for now though, so pam crawled up next to him in the hospital bed as she’d done countless times before.

“Hi.”

“Hey.  How do you feel?”

“Probably about as good as I’m assuming I look right now.”

Pam kissed him on the cheek and she couldn’t decide if the noise that came out of her mouth was a laugh or a cry.  How was he joking about this 20 minutes after regaining consciousness?  How was he being this strong?

“Well you’re awake and talking to me, so I’d say you look pretty great, Mr. Halpert.”

“Mmm… I don’t know how long that’s going to be true.  I can’t really keep my eyes open.”

“It’s ok.  Get your rest, I’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Hey.  Can you call the camera crew and see if they’ll come in?  I know they’re not all around, but…”

“I mean, yeah I can do that.  Are you sure?  You don’t have to do that, Jim.”

“I want to.  I need to get all this down on video.  I want people to hear all of this.  And I want to see it when I’m better.”  

August 9, 2006

The camera crew arrived in the early afternoon.  Jim had woken up pretty early, and though he still didn’t feel great, there was a noticeable improvement from the days since he first started coming back to reality.  Pam hadn’t stayed at the hospital last night, and she was still at work, so Jim would be able to sit down for the talking head alone without making any excuses for why he didn’t want her to be there with him.

“Alright, you ready?”

“Yeah.  Let’s do this.”

“Ok.  Pam told us you just woke up last week.  How do you feel?”

“Well, I woke up at 3:00 this morning. And I just couldn’t sleep. I feel - well not the best, but each day’s better than the one before it.  I don’t know if that’s why I couldn’t sleep, though.”

“Can you elaborate on that?”

“I’ve been trying to put on this strong face in everything.  To my family, to Pam, to everyone really.  Both before the pneumonia, and even right when I woke back up.  But the truth is, for the first time in all of this, maybe not the first but definitely the biggest… I’ve become totally afraid.  I couldn’t even lie in bed anymore.”

“Afraid that you won’t get better?”

“I think I’m going to get better.  And I’m doing everything I can to beat this, and I feel like I’m going to.  But the fact that there’s a chance that I won’t be… should I plan for that chance?   You know, do I make a will?  I never wanted to have a funeral in a church… do I tell somebody?  I guess I just did, but I have no idea.  Part of me feels like if I start doing those things, it’s accepting that there’s a chance I’m going to die.  There obviously IS a chance, I just don’t know if that’s something I’m supposed to accept.  I don’t know.

“Have the doctors said anything?  What’s next?”

“Well this round of chemo ended last week.  I’ve basically been here because of the pneumonia and that’s done, so I’m actually leaving tomorrow and going to my parent’s.  They said my odds of relapse are way higher than a young kid with leukemia if I keep doing chemo, so we’ve been talking about the options all week.  Even if I did chemo I’d have to do it for the next 2 years or something, so we’re going to try a stem cell transplant.  It has a better chance of success if you don’t do all the chemo before it anyway.”

“Do you have a donor already?”

“My sister Larissa was a match, so she’s going to be the donor.  I can’t even describe the - the gratitude I have for that.  All my siblings got tested and she was a match.  Pam really wanted to get tested but we found out Larissa was a match before she even had a chance.  She really is amazing…”

“So when’s the transplant?”

“The transplant is going to be in a little over a month as long as everything looks good over the next couple of weeks.  I’ll have to go in for some intense chemo for a few days, and then we’ll do the transplant.”

“That gives you quite a bit of time.  What are you going to do in the next month?”

“What am I going to do with my free time for the next month?  I’m going to spend it with the people I love.  Who knows how much time I have, so I better use it well, you know?  Maybe I’ll even stop in to the office and see everybody.”

“Alright man, I bet they’d like that.  Anything else?”

“I um… I just wanted to get all this documented.  I really appreciate that you guys came in and recorded this.  Hopefully somebody finds some benefit to all of this, whether it’s me or my family or just some random person.  And if things don’t work out, I just want everybody to be happy.  I’ve been blown away but the love and support everybody has shown me, but if I don’t make it I don’t want anybody to feel guilty or, I don’t know.  I just hope everybody can be happy no matter what.”

September 23, 2006

Pam sat in a circle with Jim and his family as the stem cell transplant took place.  Jim had undergone 4 days of extreme radiation treatment and then 4 days of chemo, so he was a bit out of it, but Pam snuggled up next to him and held Betsy’s hand as everything was pumped into his body.  He was slipping in and out of sleep as the procedure wrapped up.  Pam decided to ask the doctor some questions while Jim was out of it.

“So what’s next?  When can he go home?”

“Well, we’re going to keep him here for 2 or 3 weeks to see how he’s doing.  But he has a long road ahead even after he goes home.”

“A long road in what way?”

“After the transplant he’s going to have virtually no immune system for 3-6 months, maybe even longer.  He could end up with any number of things… pneumonia again, constant battles with the flu - anything really.  So depending on that he may need to end up on a lot of medication until his immune system recovers.”

“What about the cancer.  When do we know if this worked?”

“The first 100 days are the most critical.  We can get some data before that but really you have to get through those first 100 days to know if this has been a success or not. We’re optimistic but we’re not out of the woods here yet.”

Betsy spoke up after hearing what was ahead for them.

“Can he, I mean can we leave him alone?  Will somebody always need to be with him?”

“Well it really depends.  If he gets lucky and stays otherwise healthy, there’s no limitations on basic necessities and taking care of himself.  But obviously with his immune system there’s a very real probability that he’ll need some help depending on how things go and what medication he might end up on.  And… we are done here.”

“The transplant’s done?”

“All done.  Everything went as planned.  We’ll just get everything cleaned up and give all of you some time with him.  He’s all done with chemo, so if he doesn’t come around today with some normal sleeping hours, he should be coming around in the next day or two.”

Pam knew she had to be strong for Jim, but somehow she had convinced herself that once this was over he’d be back to normal in a couple of weeks.  Could they really do 6 more months of this?

January 2, 2007

“Hey man, good to see you.  Thanks for doing this first thing in the morning.”

“Yeah, absolutely.  I wish I would have called you guys in the last few months to keep up on my documenting but, well, it was a rough few months.”

“Why don’t we start there.  Last time we talked you were planning the stem cell transplant.  How’d everything go after that?”

“I had the stem cell transplant in late September.  Everything went according to plan, but then I got really sick once I got home to my parents.  I got shingles and since my immune system was all messed up, they had to put me on some pretty brutal meds.  I was hallucinating and stuff, it was rough.  Well, it was probably worse on Pam and my parents who had to deal with me, but yeah, not pleasant.”

“Wow.  What happened after that?”

“I dealt with that for awhile and eventually got better.  But by then they had me on such strong painkillers that I was kind of addicted.  Had to quit that cold turkey which was rough.  It was probably only a little over a month ago that I really started to feel better.  I'm kind of lucky, really.  A lot of people take 6 months or a year to get healthy after the transplant.”

“A month ago?  That seems really soon to be back at work.  Why’d you come back today?”

“Why am I back at work so early?  Well it’s the new year.  Fresh start right?  But also they told me that the first 100 days after the transplant were the most critical with the chance of the cancer coming back.  Today is day 101, and I got to celebrate the new year cancer free, so I really wanted to try to do something special to mark the occasion.  I’m just tired of other people taking care of me and I want to get back to living, even if it’s a little early.”

“You just got here, but how has everyone been?”

“My coworkers have been treating me… a little strange.  Which is to be expected, I guess.  Dwight actually managed to say something nice to me, so… I’ll need to get a prank together here soon, I guess.”

“And how are things with Pam?  Were you able to celebrate the new year together?”

“How are things with Pam?  Well, she was impossibly amazing while I was sick.  She was just - it’s unbelievable really how umm -"

He was having problems putting what Pam had meant to him over the last 100 days into words.  Obviously not just the last 100 days, but especially in the time since the transplant.  Pam had been there every step of the way, being stronger than he could ever imagine being in that same situation.  Jim decided he wasn’t even going to try to do it justice with words.

"Umm, yeah - you know, I think maybe you should actually just ask her how she’s been.”

Jim flashed his signature smirk as he got up without elaborating and made his way to his new desk.  He’d have to work on getting the old one back soon.

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Pam couldn’t help but blush at the question and looked down at her feet before answering.

“How are things with Jim?  Uh, well…”

She held up her hand and flashed an ear to ear grin, revealing the brand new ring.

“It was a good New Year.”