Scott and Jo vs The Shadow: Chapter 4
Chapter Four: Broccoli, the world's most disappointing food. Evidence beats opinion, even for atheists. Rosie gets the last laugh.
IN THIS ISSUE
Scott and Jo vs The Shadow: Episode Four
Coming Soon
EPISODE FOUR: Evidence and Broccoli
Neither Dad nor I spoke for a long time in the car. At last, he said, “Are you all right, Jo?”
“Do you think you have cancer, Dad?” I asked.
He was reassuring. “It’s like he says, Jo. We have to find out.” He paused. Then he added, “I think that Dr. Wing thinks that I have cancer.”
“Are you going to get the ultrasound?”
“Yes. But I also want to go see Dr. Bernie as soon as I can. We’ll keep all the doors open.” He was driving, but he threw his glance at me. “Don’t be afraid, honey. Like he said, I have a lot of life in me. And it’s the 1990’s. Cancer isn’t a death sentence any more, even if I should have it. There are all kinds of new treatments coming out.”
I nodded. It was too hard to think about it, and I pushed away the thoughts lurking in the shadows. Instead I asked, “Do you feel any different?”
“Yes!” he said right away, his voice bright. “It’s odd. I feel lighter inside. More relaxed. I think over the last few weeks my digestive tract has kind of tightened up, and now, after the acupuncture, it feels relaxed.”
“Are you really going to follow that diet he suggested?”
He let out his breath. “That’s some diet.” He threw another quick sideways glance at me. “I’ll do my best. But if the ultrasound shows us that I have cancer, I’ll follow the diet as strictly as I can.”
When we got home, Dad called for an appointment with Dr. Bernie, our family doctor, right away. Then he told Mom and Scott about the visit, and I supplied any details he left out.
Scott was still skeptical. “Uncle John, there just isn’t any way that this man can take pulses in your wrists, look at your tongue, and tell you that you have cancer.”
“That’s not quite what happened, Scott. He wants me to get an ultrasound to see if I have cancer.” And Dad shrugged. “Any doctor, seeing any symptom that lines up with cancer, would say the same thing.”
Scott accepted the reply and added, “Well, here’s our acid test. The ultrasound will show a certain result and either prove or disprove the assessment.”
“I really feel better after the acupuncture,” Dad told him. “I mean, I’m sure it’s temporary, but I’ve had a lot of tension in my side and stomach, and pressure around the sinuses in my face. Soreness in my right shoulder, even when it wasn’t badly painful. Everything is better right now.”
Mom brightened. “Maybe you’ll get a better night’s sleep tonight, then. You haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
Dad waved that off. “That’s been a problem all my life from time to time. But let’s hope so.”
“I can bake some fish for dinner,” Mom said. “And steam some broccoli and stew some tomatoes.”
“Well I already know I hate cancer,” I said under my breath.
Dad just gave me a glance, and he thanked Mom.
For the first time, Scott’s rational atheism was on full and unpleasant display. He was really bothered by Dad consulting Dr. Wing. He kept talking about it at dinner, and even Mom and Dad, usually so tolerant of him, were getting annoyed. Consulting Dr Wing was Dad’s decision, after all.
“Scott,” Dad said with a tone of finality in his voice after Scott had once again reviewed how impossible it was to diagnose cancer by means of pulses and the tongue, “What harm did it do?”
Dad waved a hand to say it was fine even if it had been useless. “Dr. Wing inserted thin needles into me, I fell asleep, and now I feel better. No harm done. I am going to see a fully licensed, AMA medical doctor tomorrow, God willing, my family doctor, and I will have all the blood tests and any other tests he can give me.”
“And you’ll get the ultrasound, right, Dad?” I asked anxiously.
“Yes, honey, I will. Dr. Bernie will set that up for me at the hospital. That’s called a referral.”
“Jo,” Scott said. And he was harsh. “You’re just afraid Uncle John has cancer, and you’re convinced these magic needles can cure him.”
My mouth dropped open.
“Scott, you apologize to your cousin for your tone,” Mom told him, the first time she had ever rebuked Scott.
He looked at his plate, angry.
“And how dare you say that to me, you fake ration-alist!” I snapped.
“Jospehine!” Dad said.
“No Dad, listen!” I pleaded. “I did the rational thing. I went with you. I looked at his procedure. I saw his medical charts on the wall—”
“Anybody can hang charts on a wall!” Scott told me, angry.
“I listened to what he had to say and heard his ex-planations!” I snapped back. “You didn’t do any of that, Scott, you big fake! You just sat here on your I’m-a-genius throne, dictating who is right and who is wrong!”
“Ah-hah!” Rosie shouted.
“Are you really going to say that thousands of years of acupuncture, performed all over China, Japan, and Korea, are all wrong and you’re right?” I asked Scott. “Are you really that conceited?”
“Jo!” Dad exclaimed again, and now his voice showed he wasn’t joking.
“Both of you apologize to each other!” Mom ordered.
“Right now!” Dad said.
So we did, but we were both mad at each other.
“Look, we love each other in this house,” Dad said urgently. “We bear with each other. We respect each other, even when we don’t agree. You have both showed enough maturity to get along with each other in the past when you have sharply disagreed. What’s gotten into you two?”
I answered. “He can’t let it go, Dad. He keeps nagging you about it! And now he’s just as good as called me stupid. And I’m the one who tried to examine all the facts I could find!”
“I didn’t call you stupid!” Scott exclaimed.
“Well you may as well have!”
“Enough!” Both Mom and Dad said.
And then Dad said, as mildly as he could, “I do give Jo credit for an intellectual honesty that looked into the matter, Scott. She and I were both impressed by Dr. Wing.”
“I’ve been to China, Uncle John,” Scott told him. “I’ve seen the street vendors hawking their cures. Snake venom and bleeding people. It’s nonsense!”
“You didn’t see Dr. Wing,” I told him. “He didn’t do anything like that.”
Dad lifted a hand. “Look, you two. Whatever is wrong with me, I am going to look at all my options, and I am going to make the best decision that I can make for treatment plans. Okay? It’s my health, and these are my decisions.” He looked from me to Scott. “I expect my decisions for my health to be treated respectfully.”
I nodded and Scott bowed his head as though to submit. But then he said, “I’ve finished my dinner. May I be excused?”
“Yes,” Mom told him. He usually helped her clear up, but he stalked off and went upstairs to his room.
Mom lowered her voice and spoke to me. “Jo, Scott is just as afraid as you are that your father has cancer.”
I was surprised. “But he says Dr. Wing can’t know that.”
“He is afraid of it, Jo,” Dad said quietly. “Now listen to me.” And he looked right at me. But when I looked right back at him, waiting for him to say what he was going to say, Dad suddenly couldn’t speak.
“Dad?” I asked.
Mom spoke: “Jo, Scott is worried about your father. He loves your father and is grateful to him. Your father is the first man who has ever been proud of Scott.”
“And I am proud of him,” Dad said. “I’m proud of both of you. Especially you, Jo. You always step up.””
“Not tonight,” I admitted.
“Look,” he said to me, and now he could speak. “Jo, I need—that is, your mother and I both need, for you to be the mature, compassionate young woman you have been all summer.” He looked at Mom across the table and suddenly smiled with his usual sense of humor. “What do you think Mom, was it because of that new bicycle we got her?”
“If you have cancer, it’s going to require a motorcycle,” I told him.
He burst out laughing.
“Oh don’t encourage her, John. This is serious,” Mom told him. Then she said to me, “All of this is new to Scott: family closeness, family troubles. And especially anybody talking about cancer inside your father. We have to ask you to be patient with Scott. His life has always been very controlled—”
“Boring,” I said.
“Yes, Jo,” she agreed. “Boring. And now his life is full of light. And then this sudden dark shadow appears. I think that for Scott, it is terrifying.”
“He could at least admit it,” I said. “Instead of blaming me and saying I’m too afraid to think straight.”
“He will admit to it, Jo,” Dad assured me. “But we need you to accept that Scott may have to deal with a lot of the raw emotions that come with close family life in a crisis, and he’s never had to do that. We need you to help him and be patient with him.”
“Don’t you think that’s what God wants?” Mom asked me. “And don’t you think that such behavior is one of the evidences of God? I mean,” and she glanced at Dad for support. “We can talk about the rational and natural evidences of God night and day, Jo. But Christianity doesn’t work without charity. None of it is true unless charity is true, and is present, and is at work.”
“Everybody in this household needs charity from everybody else,” Dad told me. “Whatever is happening, everything breaks down, unless we conduct ourselves in the charity of Jesus Christ, even here at home, even with the people who sometimes annoy us.”
I nodded. “Yes, I’ll try not to get mad at him.”
“I really think, Jo,” Mom said. “That if you just walk away from Scott if he says anything disrespectful, if you just let him know in a dignified way that you aren’t putting up with that behavior, that he’ll calm down more quickly.”
“I think so, too.” Dad agreed. He helped himself to the last of the stewed tomatoes. “And Jo, you don’t owe an explanation to anybody for thinking I should get the ultrasound. You did put in the time to listen to Dr. Wing and watch his procedure. You don’t even have to explain it to Scott. You know what you know. You have an opinion, to which you are entitled, and you can tell Scott that.”
He inserted his fork into the pile of red mush on his plate and then looked up at me with a smile. “After all, Mom and I are the boss of you, Jo! Not Scott!” And his eyes were kind.
“Ha ha!” Rosie shouted.
FOR OLDER READERS: SCHEDULED FOR 2025:
Christian fiction has a wonderful literary history of hard science fiction, hard fantasy, and horror. As far as I can determine, it dates back to Charles Williams and George MacDonald, two of the authors that inspired CS Lewis. Here are three books from a planned series of seven: Comedy, adventure, science, fantasy, Creationism. As always, no (or very little) romance, clean, and a Christian ethos and distinctively Christian perspective without preachiness or sentimentality.
