Author's Note: So, this is my first Home Improvement story. It is based around "The Longest Day". In the episode, there is a possibility that Randy could have cancer, but instead he has Hypothyroidism. So, I decided to change the results because I thought it would be good reading. Hope you like! If you do, please leave a comment, because I will refuse to update before I get at least one.
Summary: Randy stood up slowly, as did his parents. "You ready?" he heard his dad ask. Randy nodded and started to walk forward. He could feel his dad's arm slip around his shoulders. Could it really have been just a few hours ago that Randy was at the arcade, afraid that he would die? Was it really just a few hours ago that his dad reassured him that it would be okay? Yet here they were, back at the clinic.
Rating: K+… possible language use and possible sexual content in the future.
Disclaimer: I do not in anyway own Home Improvement, any of its characters, its ideas, or plots. Come on, if I did, this would not be posted on FanFiction.
Chapter One: The News…
Randy sat in the hard chair in the waiting room of the clinic. Only an hour ago he had been playing scrabble with his mom and dad, he had been pacing nervously, only an hour ago. Then the call came – the one that said they needed to come back to the clinic. Now he was sitting between his parents. His dad was flipping through one of the magazines that sat on the coffee table. Randy could tell that his dad was even looking at the magazine, considering they had been there for 10 minutes, his dad was still on page one and his dad had a glazed look over his eyes.
Randy looked to his right – his mom. She was biting her fingernails, her eyes darting around the small waiting room. Randy heard a crack and he looked away from his mom in the direction of the door. An elderly nurse came through, "Randy Taylor, the doctor is ready to see you."
Randy stood up slowly, as did his parents. "You ready?" he heard his dad ask. Randy nodded and started to walk forward. He could feel his dad's arm slip around his shoulders. Could it really have been just a few hours ago that Randy was at the arcade, afraid that he would die? Was it really just a few hours ago that his dad reassured him that it would be okay? Yet here they were, back at the clinic.
Randy walked down the hallway following the elderly nurse, with one parent on each side of him. After a minute or so, they had passed 6 rooms and the nurse opened the door to the 7th. "Here you go," she said, stepping aside for them to enter. Randy entered the room and took a deep breath. He walked over to the bed and sat down, his dad sat down to his left and mom on his right.
After a few minutes, the doctor walked in and gave them a small smile. "Hello," he said. Randy gave him a small smile back. Randy sat there, nervously, waiting for the doctor to say something. "I couldn't bare to tell you this on the phone," the doctor began. Randy wondered why he couldn't just say it, get the wait over with. "I'm really sorry," the doctor said in a small voice looking at Randy's mom, then Randy, then Randy's dad. Finally he focused on Randy again, "the lump is malignant."
Randy sat there, unbelieving. He looked at his dad. How could his dad have done that? Tell him it was going to be okay? He felt his mother's grip on his hand tighten as his dad pulled him into a hug, but for some reason, he didn't feel like it was really happening. He felt like this was too much to happen to him. He felt like an outsider looking in. Like, this was just a movie and he was just a movie-goer. How could this happen, was all he could think.
After what felt like an eternity to Randy, but was really just 10 minutes, his dad released him from the hug. Randy looked up into his dad's face. His dad had tears streaming down his face and then a thought occurred to him, had he ever seen his dad cry before? Randy couldn't look at that face, just knowing that he had caused someone as strong as his dad to cry was enough to look away. Randy didn't dare look at his mom. So, instead, he looked at the doctor. Randy thought it was funny, he thought he should cry or be upset, but he wasn't. The truth was, he didn't feel. It was probably just the shock, but like I said, he felt like a movie-goer.
"So," Randy said quietly to the doctor, "now what?" The doctor gulped at the question and looked at the two adults.
"I'd like to talk to your parents, if that's okay," the doctor said. Randy shook his head; it was probably about treatment or something like that. Randy stood up from the bed and looked back at his parents.
"Just wait in the hall," Randy's dad said. Randy, once again, shook his head and went into the hall. He closed the door behind him and walked about a foot farther down the hall. Thinking about what was going to happen; he leaned up against the wall and slid down into a sitting position. Why was he always the one to get sick? Why him? Was he going to die? He didn't want to die.
20 minutes later, Randy's parents walked out of the room, his dad's face was red, but there were no more tears. His mom, however, still had some tears, although they didn't seem to falling from her eyes. They looked more like left-over tears that she hadn't wiped away yet. His mom attempted to smile cheerily at him, but failed and it actually looked like the smiles you give to the homeless people you feel sorry for.
Randy stood up. "So?" he asked, slightly curious as to what was going to happen.
"Come on," his dad said, "we'll talk at home." His dad opened his arm and Randy fell into it. They walked down the hallway in that half-hug. Randy didn't want to leave it, it felt so safe. His mom was on the other side of his dad, holding his hand. Walking out of the clinic, getting into the car, driving home, it was all a blur, seeing as the moment Randy went into his dad's arm, he began to cry. Not a sobbing cry, like most would do after hearing this news, but just a soft cry.
Randy and his parents pulled up to the house. Randy got out of the car and began to walk up to the door, wiping away the tears. His dad caught up to him, "Randy, do you want to tell your brothers?" Randy knew what he meant. "I can do it for you if you want," his dad added. Randy shook his head 'yes' to that. He didn't want to tell them; that would be too hard. They entered the house; Mark and Brad were sitting on the couch watching TV.
"Hey," Brad said. "So, what's up?" he said, looking over the back of the couch. They hadn't even told Mark or Brad about the lump or its possibilities. Randy looked at them, his face was probably red, but at this moment he didn't care. He lowered his head and continued into the house, through the kitchen and down into the basement.
Randy fell onto his bed and began to cry. Not a soft cry like when you break up with your boyfriend, but a ferocious sob. While he buried his head into his pillow, all he could think was, why him? That's how he fell asleep that night; his head in his pillow, and thinking, why him?