Work Text:
Every six months, Evan Buckley goes to a cancer clinic to have his blood tested to verify he doesn’t have cancer. Given his genetic predisoptiion and his current occupation, it’s more than necessary. He only tells certain people in his life when it’s time for the check-up, he’s learned previously telling loved ones he’s going to a cancer clinic only ignites panic and high blood pressure.
This check up is like every other. He goes to the lab two weeks before his appointment, they take his blood samples, give him a cookie, and he leaves. Two weeks later he goes to the appointment where they talk about the results, any new symptoms, and talk about the future. Occausionally, they’ll do a lung xray or an MRI of his leg to make sure there’s no complications and no possible cancer growths there.
It’s clockwork. The doctor examines him, paying special attention to his lymph nodes and thyroid in his neck. As always, the exam shows no active cancer. His blood tests come back normal with mildly high cholesterol and a minor dip in his testosterone. He walks out of the office like always, sighing, tired, ready to just go home. There’s always a thrum of anxiety under his skin when he comes to this building, wondering if this will be the time something is wrong. He texts Eddie the news that he’s fine, the date of his next appointment, and goes home. He wonders sometimes how this is his life: the biannual doctor appointments, the constant worry brewing under everything else, the concerned looks he gets from coworkers when he thinks too hard about all of this. He goes home, hoping his next appointment will be exactly the same as he repeats this process for the rest of his life.