Yogi slung his arm around Doc’s shoulder—it looked like he could’ve picked him up off the ground with one arm. “As I told you on the phone, Lopey, the boys had an accident. And just so you know, Bones here, he’s had some struggles with the cancer, too.” 

“The cancer. Woah.” Doc Lopez smiled gently. “What kind of cancer, Bones?” 

“Lymphoma,” Bones said, as if he were on Jeopardy and was stoked to know the answer. “It could be worse.” 

Doc Lopez laughed. “That’s a good point, I guess it could be worse.” He turned to Yogi and said, “What a great kid. I’ll check things out. I’m sure everything will be fine.” 

Everything will be fine? I felt like tackling the guy. Here my best friend had cancer and was stuck in the past, forty years ago, where they had none of the right medicine to treat him, and this guy was saying everything would be okay. He was more delusional than Bones.

Doc Lopez walked over to Bones and put his arm around him. “Vamos, Bones! Te ves saludable para mí, pero vamos a comprobarlo solo para estar seguro! He looked over his shoulder at me. “I said, ‘Let’s go, Bones! You look perfectly healthy to me, but let’s check it out just to be sure!’” 

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