My Home From Home - Chapter 17: Chapter 17

"If you could just remove your shirt for me please, Mr MacLeod." Henry slipped the stethoscope off from around his neck and put the earpieces into his ear. He waited as the older man on the examination table unbutton and removed his work shirt; all the while a distinct yet faint whistling sound came from deep within his chest as he inhaled and exhaled. Henry narrowed his deep blue eyes in intrigue as he noted the man's symptoms and internally triaged him, though he needed to further access the situation to know for absolutely certain.
"Alright, now breathe in for me..." Henry said as he placed the diaphragm of the stethoscope onto the man's back. "And breathe out..." Henry said as the man exhaled on command; Henry's face contorted as he heard exactly what he'd feared though he wasn't terribly surprised...
He continued having the man breathe in and out, listening to different parts of his lungs from the front and the back to get a good sense of where all were trouble spots. Granted that the man had been working in the mines for decades, this was rather an open and shut case.
"And you said you're having trouble breathing." Henry asked, prompting the man to nod. "And this flares up from time to time?"
"Aye, Doctor." The man said, wheezing between words, earning him a nod in understanding from the dark haired doctor. "Ah also get these right nasty headaches in the mornin'."
"Have you noticed any weight loss trends?" Henry asked further as he glanced down at the charts that he had for the man showing that he'd lost at least two stone in the past year.
"Aye..." The man coughed out a guttural and very 'wet' sounding cough from deep within his lungs.
"Yes, well. I think I know exactly what the problem here is." Henry said with a sigh knowing he was likely giving the man some of the worst news he could; because as a coal miner what he was about to hear would likely change his life entirely. "Mr MacLeod if you'd like to put your shirt back on and we can sit back at my desk and discuss some things."
The man nodded docilely as Henry smiled comfortingly at him, his smile faltering as he watched the man slip on the shirt by himself; he wasn't terribly old, perhaps only in his late fifties, yet he was hunched over and bones clearly visible through his pinkish coloured skin. This was a literal textbook case and something about this all broke his heart.
At the end of the day, the Kensington Infirmary was mostly frequented by the wealthy who could afford the finest healthcare and the latest treatments; but here he simply couldn't offer the things he had access to back home, and something about that made Henry feel a sensation of drowning he found akin to what he'd read anxiety to be like.
"Right, Mr MacLeod if you'd like to have a seat." Henry straightened out his white doctor's coat as he sat down at his desk, gesturing for the man to seat himself across from him. "Well, unfortunately the news isn't terribly good, I'm afraid. It appears as though you're suffering from emphysema; the shortness of breath, the pinking discolouration of the skin, the flare ups, the wheezing, the rapid weight loss. It all points to emphysema."
"Emphysema..." The older Scotsman repeated under his breath, his eyes darting across the floor as though trying to mentally process everything he was reading. Henry felt his own breath get shallow, his mouth drying up as he gave the man a minute to grasp it all. "Is there a cure?"
"Erm..." Henry took a deep calming breath, his hands firmly gripping at his own leg to settle his nerves. "Well, Mr MacLeod, there... isn't a cure unfortunately. There are medicines I can prescribe to ease the symptoms but unfortunately, there is no true cure for emphysema. As of right now you seem to have a moderate case, meaning that with time... it could get worse..."
"Worse?!" Exclaimed the Mr MacLeod; his eyes washing over with pure horror at the sheer uncertainty. "H-hoo much time hae ah got left?!"
"Time?! No! No, forgive me. It's not fatal, so long as you... And here's the hard bit..." Henry leant forward to say the part he knew would be the second big blow to the man's life. "You said you don't smoke, no history of tobacco smoke or second-hand sources... So that leaves only one potential cause, coal ash from the mines." Henry said calmly, watching as the man's slate grey eyes narrowed at him. "Mr MacLeod, if you wish to stop the progression of your emphysema, you will need to tender your resignation at the mines."
"Stop working?! Are ye mad or what?! Ah cannae quit me job. Ah've a family tae feed. A wife an two bairns who depend on me job tae put scran on the table. A wee lass tae get married off one day and a wee lad tae send off tae university. Naw, laddie ye ar' askin' tay much. I willnae be able tae do all that without me job at the mines." The Scotsman descended into hysterics.
"Mr MacLeod, I know this is all difficult to grasp and it is a jolly great shock but... Your life is hanging in the balance, if you continue to work in the mine your emphysema will progress as well as significantly deteriorate your lung functions and along with it your quality of life." Henry appealed to the man as best he could. "I can help you with the symptoms and to stop things from getting terribly worse than they are now, but I need you to meet me halfway; by tendering your resignation at the mine, you'll be helping not only yourself, but also your family. You are able to function as you are, but should this progress... well... It won't be easy on you nor your family..."
"Ah dinnae ken, Doctor...." Mr MacLeod trailed off, his eyes distant and his mind clearly afoot with all the thoughts of how he'd provide for children and his help his wife who was a was quite successful at selling jams and preserves.
"I know how you feel, Mr MacLeod. It can be terribly daunting to find out you need to change the very trajectory of your life at the drop of a hat. And on top of it all, with your very health at stake. But just know I'll be here to support you and your family any way I can." Henry's eyes locked with the man's as his sapphire blue gaze showed the true empathy and willingness to help in his heart/
Henry couldn't help but find it all to be difficult; but he'd be lying if he was surprised. He'd heard of rises in cases of chronic bronchitis, emphysema and other such upper respiratory ailments in mining communities in he north of England and the south of Wales; areas where mining reigned supreme in the economy. And though he'd only ever looked at it from a medical and psychological standpoint, for the first time he found himself understanding the fiscal and lifestyle uncertainty that undoubtedly came hand and hand with such a diagnosis.
Mr MacLeod went on to call his wife in, asking Henry explicitly to explain what his diagnosis and prognosis was; fortunately with moderate cases like Mr MacLeod's, Henry saw a potential for a life that will indeed have hindrances and pitfalls yet it wasn't a death sentence quite yet. The woman cried, understandably; though Henry was mindful to explain it without giving them false hope whilst still being true to the gravity of the situation. When they left Henry let out a relieved sigh and slouched over whilst sitting; resting his elbow on his mahogany desk and pinching the bridge of his nose to ease his stress. He always found giving bad news terribly emotionally taxing, yet he found the strength to give those he's entrusted to care for the right to knowing the truth and how to move forward.
There was a lull in Henry's day for much of the rest of the morning, until a kind older woman called Mrs Bagshaw; her husband was one of the accountants who worked for the coal mining company after the couple immigrated from Liverpool decades ago; she herself worked as a secretary in the mine's administrative offices. She had trouble seeing out of her right eye, saying she'd noticed her vision get cloudy as the days went by to the point where it was getting harder to conduct her work duties.
"Well Mrs Bagshaw, it would appear as though you have cataracts." Henry said softly, noting the woman's greyish blue eyes seem to wash over with fear. "Oh, there's nothing to be alarmed about! It's a simple procedure; perfectly routine nowadays. It sounds daunting, but it's nothing to worry about."
"Will you be doing procedure, Doctor?" She asked with her strong Liverpudlian twang; and though Henry often found Scouse accents to do his head in, he couldn't help but find her's rather endearing.
"No, no unfortunately not. I'm afraid our little surgery here isn't equipped enough with the latest technology to carry out such procedures. I will have to make a referral for you to have it done at Calgary General."
"Calgary is a bit far, innit?" Mrs Bagshaw blinked confusedly.
"It is, but unfortunately it's the nearest hospital equipped to do the surgery." Henry flashed the older woman a sympathetic glance as she nodded to herself.
"I'll have to have a chat with our Harvey, and after that we'll make a decision. Though I doubt he'll say no. He misses me cooking awfully and lately with my eyesight as bad as it is, I've been no use to man nor beast in the kitchen." Henry smiled at that, his lips perking up ever so slightly as he leant forward in intrigue. "Toad in the hole's his favourite; I'd make it for him after I'd come home from work and it'd make his day. Said it reminded him of home, it did."
"Toad in the hole..." Henry smiled, his eyes gazing over as memories of him sneaking down to the Aldringham Manor kitchens and making Cook give him a helping of the servant's dinner; toad in a hole was one such dish that upstairs would've been terribly common but was hearty comfort food to a young Henry. "Cook-erm -I-mean... Mum used to cook that for us, in the kitchen. Where the oven is. One misses it terribly."
"You should make it! It's simple, really." Mrs Bagshaw leant forward excitedly, her clear culinary passion making Henry smile. "All you've got to do is take five or or six bangers, put them in a baking dish, pour in the Yorkshire pudding batter, pop it in the oven until it's all cooked like and bob's your uncle!"
"Ah, I see..." Henry tapped his finger against his cheek as he rested his elbow on the table in thought; his deep sea blue eyes brightening visibly as he got a brilliant idea. "Well, as far as the surgery goes, come see me when you've spoken with your husband and I can have you referred forthwith... But... Whilst I've got you here... Might I get the recipe for toad in the hole?"
The older woman smiled maternally, her eyes twinkling with excitement as she recounted the entire recipe as well as she could recall off the top of her head, all the while Henry furiously jotted down notes for later. It had been a little over two week since Henry had first arrived in Fir Creek and he was finding it more and more like home with each passing day. Though at first he found it hard to tamp down his burning attraction for none other than the handsome young Constable Wilson, he'd made significant strides in understanding that the man was a friend; only a friend. And in gratitude for his 'friend' Henry wanted to make dinner for Thomas and the boys; just as Thomas had done the night Henry arrived. He figured this would be the best option; simple, foolproof comfort food like toad in the hole.
Later that evening Henry followed the directions exactly as Mrs Bagshaw dictated, retiring to the kitchen table to wait patiently for it to cook in the oven as he sat across from Danny watching him silently with a smile. But what Henry had oh, so foolishly neglected was that looming fact that he hadn't the slightest clue how to cook anything. Mrs Bagshaw might've been no use to man or beast in the kitchen with her cataracts, but Henry managed to be absolute clueless whilst being completely physically able. But nothing seemed to be going wrong as of yet so he figured he'd just crack on with it and hope for the best.
Henry couldn't help but smile as he watched little Danny drawing away as he sat across from him at the dining table and waited for the timer to prompt him to take the toad in the hole out of the owen. He didn't know why, but Henry felt this connection with little Danny; similarly to how he felt about little Anna. Though Georgina often got irritated by her childish little questions that be silly, Henry always put on a smile and cared for his little niece. And just like that, as the days passed he found himself doing the same with Danny; and reciprocally Danny warmed up to Henry as well. Thomas were still trying to get him to say his name properly, though for Henry it warmed his heart to hear the little boy call him 'Henwy'.
"What're you drawing?" Henry perked up in his seat to get a look at what Danny was scribbling with his pencil crayons.
"Doggy." Danny said softly, still busy doodling away as Henry felt the urge to walk up and hug the little boy tightly. "Look!" Danny smiled bright as he picked up the little piece of paper and held up the piece of paper to reveal what looked like something that might resemble a four legged creature.
"Aw! Look at you! A little artist!" Henry cooed enthusiastically; his voice taking it's usual hyper excited high pitched tone he generally took whilst speaking to children.
Just as Henry was about to complement little toddler, he caught whiff of a faint smell of smoke, immediately turning his head towards the oven to see a good bit of white haze permeating out from around the shut oven door. Henry gasped suddenly, cursing under his breath as he ran towards the oven grabbing oven-mitts and prying the door open to reveal a whole wall of smoke followed by the indelible smell of burning.
"Nonononono..." Henry whinged pathetically as he pulled out the baking tin and set it down on the stove; smoke seeming to leave a lingering haze through the entire kitchen. "Ruined! Bloody ruined!"
"Is everything alright?! I smelled smoke!" Thomas rushed into the room hastily, his deep brown eyes widened with urgency as he glanced around to access the situation; Nothing was on fire, which was rather a relief, only a bit of smoke that still had yet to dissipate.
"I just wanted to make something nice for you all because you've been so kind to me but everything went wrong everything always goes wrong everything I seem to do goes terribly terrible wrong." Henry began to rant hysterically, pacing about the kitchen as Thomas stared at him dumbfounded; his gaze mixed with confusion and a tinge of amusement as the pretty slender boy tugged at his sleep dark brown hair frustratedly. "Toad in the hole! Can't be hard, can it! Clearly not! Why!? Why does nothing go how I want it to! Why can I have nothing?!" He screamed grabbing a tea towel and chucking it onto the wood floor.
"Hey." Thomas walked up to Henry holding him by the waist to stop him from pacing back and forth. "Hey, calm down. It's okay."
Henry's gaze shot up to meet Thomas' his eyes wide as he stared into the handsome man's dark eyes; glancing down onto his own waist to see Thomas' strong, manly hands gently grasped onto his waist at the bottom hem of Henry's waistcoat. Henry's sapphire blue eyes shot back up to meet Thomas' as the fair haired man quickly realising just what he'd done. He retracted his hands off of Henry's slender waist, balling his hands into fists and bringing them back down to his side as he cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"S-sorry about that um... Are you... okay? You seem a bit on edge..." Thomas asked as he ran his hand through his blond hair; Henry blinked confusedly, locking eyes with the taller man as he realised the man indeed had a point. Henry just showed genuine human emotions; breaking the norm of maintaining of stiff upper lift with which he was raised. He'd always been to associate vulgar displays of emotions as being terribly working class, foreign, and unsuitable to well-borne English boys; nonetheless he couldn't help but find it oddly cathartic to let out his feelings.
"I'm just a bit gutted, is all." Henry sighed placing both hands on his waist and leaning against the oven door. "I just.wanted to do something nice..."
"Well it's the thought that counts, eh?" Thomas reassured him with a smile that faltered ever so slightly as he noticed a smudge of flour on Henry's alabaster cheek. "Y-you've got something... just there..." Thomas pointed to the area of Henry's cheek with the flour prompting the raven haired lad to hastily swiped his sleeve against his cheek; little did he realise there was already flour on his sleeve on his cheek that only made the matter worse. Thomas chuckled quietly, pursing his lips to stop the boy from thinking he was laughing at him. "Still there, may I...?"
Henry gulped nervously, feeling his heart beating so hard he reckoned it'd burst clear out of his chest. He nodded slowly, his eyes washed over with a look of blankness that he hoped the man couldn't make head nor tails of. Thomas stared at him with an unreadably glazed-over look in his darkened eyes as he raised his hand up to Henry's soft shaven cheek and caressed the flour off with with his thumb.
"All gone..." Whispered Thomas lowly as he took a step back and broke eye contact with the pretty boy. "Well um... Seeing as supper looks like it's not going to work out..." He teased harmlessly, earning him a sigh from dark haired young doctor. "Perhaps we could eat at Emily's tonight."
"That's just what I bloody need." Henry moaned under his breath, and though Thomas couldn't hear what he said, it didn't quite go unnoticed.
"Eh?" Thomas cocked an eyebrow at him, prompting Henry to shake his head at him.
"Nothing, I erm... You all go on, I'll stay here and eat erm... this." Muttered Henry as he glanced back at the baking tin with its contents charred to a crisp; surely burnt food would be less excruciating than dealing with more Emily and Thomas banter. For though he'd told himself he was over his infatuation with the dashing young Constable, the reality of the matter was quite the contrary.
"Nonsense, you can't eat that!" Thomas narrowed his gaze at the pretty young lad. "Besides, you're like family now." He explained with a warm, welcoming smile as Henry's eyes shot up to scan his chiselled face. "It won't feel odd having supper without you."
Henry felt his heart swell as he heard those words; perhaps that was the feeling he felt with Thomas and the boys. That comfort of being around them, the ability to let his feelings show, with reason, and the feeling of lightness in one's heart whenever they were around. He couldn't even truthfully say he felt that with his own family; in reality he grew up seeing family and love through a very different light. Spending only one hour daily with his parents and the rest of the day tucked away out of sight in the Manor's nursery till he was of age to go off to public school wasn't really a recipe for a warm and loving childhood. He 'loved' his family, but to be quite frank he didn't truly know them at all; nor they, him.
Grabbing their coats and the boys, Thomas and Henry took off across the street to Emily's little restaurant and bed-and-breakfast; it was quaint and simple though quite enough for a small town like Fir Creek. Visitors were few and far between, yet whenever they did happen upon the little quaint town, they found the hospitality to be warm at Emily's.
Overall the experience wasn't terrible for Henry, just slightly inconvenient; the food was rather delicious and Emily only came round a few times for a light chat or to ask how they liked the food. She was rather kind and a part of Henry felt bad for disliking her through no fault of her own; he knew in his heart that disliking her merely because she could have something he couldn't was terribly unfair on his part.
"So... How did you like the food?" Thomas asked as they walked homeward across the street after they'd finished their dinner; his shoulder playfully nudging Henry's as he cocked his head to the side to see his reaction.
"It was lovely." Henry cleared his throat awkwardly averting his gaze away from the handsome blond and down onto little Alfie who slept soundly in his arms and swaddled tightly to protect him from the frigid Canadian autumn air. "Truly lovely..."
"Well I'm glad you enjoyed it." Thomas nodded with a look of satisfaction in his amber brown eyes, all the while Henry internalised a rather burning urge to roll his eyes.
"Emily is a sweet girl. A great cook, very sweet, very kind. You're a lucky lad." Admitted Henry grudgingly as Thomas craned his neck to shoot him a perplexed look
"How do you mean?" Asked Thomas, momentarily distracted as little Danny tugged on his Daddy's arm playfully.
"I just happened upon some idle gossip in town that you and Miss Emily were courting..." Henry explained softly, his voice cracking ever so slightly as he began to realise that perhaps it was still a sore spot for him. "They said it was only a matter of time before the town heard wedding bells..."
"What?!" Chuckled Thomas in disbelief, his chuckles slowly turning into outright outbursts of full on laughter as Henry stared at him as though he were a creature form the lost world. "No! No you've got it all wrong." Thomas eked out between bouts of laughter. "Emily and I aren't courting. We're childhood friends and that's all..."
"Oh." Henry tried and failed to suppress a smile from creeping over his pouty pink lips.
"The truth is, that... I'm not courting anyone. I have my boys and they're the only family I need..." Thomas admitted genuinely, glancing over to his little sons and smiling at the mere sight of them.
"Surely you can't stay alone forever." Offered Henry practically. "Is there not anyone you've seen as an attractive prospect for companionship?"
"I'll cross that bridge when I get to it..." Thomas shrugged nonchalantly, though inside he knew what he said wasn't true wasn't true. He'd already felt himself slowly but surely fall head over heals for someone he knew he couldn't have. Someone society wouldn't let him have; or so he believed.