the kite runner-第61部分

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　gone　to　a　doctor　was　the　time　he　d　caught　malaria　in　India。
Then；　two　weeks　later；　I　caught　him　coughing　a　wad　of　blood…stained　phlegm　into　the　toilet。
　How　long　have　you　been　doing　that？　　I　said。
　What　s　for　dinner？　　he　said。
　I　m　taking　you　to　the　doctor。　
Even　though　Baba　was　a　manager　at　the　gas　station；　the　owner　hadn　t　offered　him　health　insurance；　and　Baba；　in　his　recklessness；　hadn　t　insisted。　So　I　took　him　to　the　county　hospital　in　San　Jose。　The　sallow；　puffy…eyed　doctor　who　saw　us　introduced　himself　as　a　second…year　resident。　　He　looks　younger　than　you　and　sicker　than　me；　　Baba　grumbled。　The　resident　sent　us　down　for　a　chest　X…ray。　When　the　nurse　called　us　back　in；　the　resident　was　filling　out　a　form。
　Take　this　to　the　front　desk；　　he　said；　scribbling　quickly。
　What　is　it？　　I　asked。
　A　referral。　　Scribble　scribble。
　For　what？　
　Pulmonary　clinic。　
　What　s　that？　
He　gave　me　a　quick　glance。　Pushed　up　his　glasses。　Began　scribbling　again。　　He　s　got　a　spot　on　his　right　lung。　I　want　them　to　check　it　out。　
　A　spot？　　I　said；　the　room　suddenly　too　small。
　Cancer？　　Baba　added　casually。
　Possible。　It　s　suspicious；　anyway；　　the　doctor　muttered。
　Can　t　you　tell　us　more？　　I　asked。
　Not　really。　Need　a　CAT　scan　first；　then　see　the　lung　doctor。　　He　handed　me　the　referral　form。　　You　said　your　father　smokes；　right？　
　Yes。　
He　nodded。　Looked　from　me　to　Baba　and　back　again。　　They　ll　call　you　within　two　weeks。　
I　wanted　to　ask　him　how　I　was　supposed　to　live　with　that　word；　　suspicious；　　for　two　whole　weeks。　How　was　I　supposed　eat；　work；　study？　How　could　he　send　me　home　with　that　word？
I　took　the　form　and　turned　it　in。　That　night；　I　waited　until　Baba　fell　asleep；　and　then　folded　a　blanket。　I　used　it　as　a　prayer　rug。　Bowing　my　head　to　the　ground；　I　recited　half…forgotten　verses　from　the　Koran……verses　the　mullah　had　made　us　mit　to　memory　in　Kabul……and　asked　for　kindness　from　a　God　I　wasn　t　sure　existed。　I　envied　the　mullah　now；　envied　his　faith　and　certainty。
Two　weeks　passed　and　no　one　called。　And　when　I　called　them；　they　told　me　they　d　lost　the　referral。　Was　I　sure　I　had　turned　it　in？　They　said　they　would　call　in　another　three　weeks。　I　raised　hell　and　bargained　the　three　weeks　down　to　one　for　the　CAT　scan；　two　to　see　the　doctor。
The　visit　with　the　pulmonologist；　Dr。　Schneider；　was　going　well　until　Baba　asked　him　where　he　was　from。　Dr。　Schneider　said　Russia。　Baba　lost　it。
　Excuse　us；　Doctor；　　I　said；　pulling　Baba　aside。　Dr。　Schneider　smiled　and　stood　back；　stethoscope　still　in　hand。
　Baba；　I　read　Dr。　Schneider　s　biography　in　the　waiting　room。　He　was　born　in　Michigan。　Michigan！　He　s　American；　a　lot　more　American　than　you　and　I　will　ever　be。　
　I　don　t　care　where　he　was　born；　he　s　Roussi；　　Baba　said；　grimacing　like　it　was　a　dirty　word。　　His　parents　were　Roussi；　his　grandparents　were　Roussi。　I　swear　on　your　mother　s　face　I　ll　break　his　arm　if　he　tries　to　touch　me。　
　Dr。　Schneider　s　parents　fled　from　Shorawi；　don　t　you　see？　They　escaped！　
But　Baba　would　hear　none　of　it。　Sometimes　I　think　the　only　thing　he　loved　as　much　as　his　late　wife　was　Afghanistan；　his　late　country。　I　almost　screamed　with　frustration。　Instead；　I　sighed　and　turned　to　Dr。　Schneider。　　I　m　sorry；　Doctor。　This　isn　t　going　to　work　out。　
The　next　pulmonologist；　Dr。　Amani；　was　Iranian　and　Baba　approved。　Dr。　Amani；　a　soft…spoken　man　with　a　crooked　mustache　and　a　mane　of　gray　hair；　told　us　he　had　reviewed　the　CAT　scan　results　and　that　he　would　have　to　perform　a　procedure　called　a　bronchoscopy　to　get　a　piece　of　the　lung　mass　for　pathology。　He　scheduled　it　for　the　following　week。　I　thanked　him　as　I　helped　Baba　out　of　the　office；　thinking　that　now　I　had　to　live　a　whole　week　with　this　new　word；　　mass；　　an　even　more　ominous　word　than　　suspicious。　　I　wished　Soraya　were　there　with　me。
It　turned　out　that；　like　Satan；　cancer　had　many　names。　Baba　s　was　called　　Oat　Cell　Carcinoma。　　Advanced。　Inoperable。　Baba　asked　Dr。　Amani　for　a　prognosis。　Dr。　Amani　bit　his　lip；　used　the　word　　grave。　　　There　is　chemotherapy；　of　course；　　he　said。　　But　it　would　only　be　palliative。　
　What　does　that　mean？　　Baba　asked。
Dr。　Aman