‘Okay, Chloe, breathe in for me,’ Dr Shaan says. I take a breath and hold. Here goes. Click. ‘All done,’ he says.
‘What?’ I say, a little confused.
‘That wasn’t too bad now, was it?’ he says. My eyes dart back and forth thinking that he must have made a mistake or forgotten something. That didn’t hurt at all. ‘I told you I wouldn’t hurt you,’ he says with that turned-up, knowing smile he always gives me. ‘Now, you need to make sure you stay on your back for the next four hours in recovery,’ he says.
All I can do is nod, still gobsmacked that I’m in one piece. I’m going back to the recovery ward in one piece! Thank you, Dr Shaan.
* * *
I can’t sleep. I’m in a share ward and there’s a patient snoring loudly next to me. Sitting up in bed, I see the time tick over: 2 am. I’m lonely. My finger finds the button for the bedside light, and warm light flickers on, a small glow in this grey room. I grab my hot-pink journal and begin to write. I write and write and write while the people around me sleep. I write about how much I’m aching to dance again. It’s killing my soul, not being able to dance. And as I write, I feel something deep down near my pelvis that I haven’t felt for a very long time. It’s heavy. My bladder feels heavy. The sensation triggers something in my brain. I think I need to use the bathroom. Biting my lip, I pray my kidneys are starting to work again and I will finally be able to go to the bathroom properly.
My back is stiff and sore from the biopsy, and it’s difficult to move around, but I need to reach the bathroom urgently. With the tiniest of steps, I make my way there, holding tight to the IV pole attached to me. I’ve been trying to build up my strength by walking a little each day, but so far I’ve only managed a few metres before I become too tired.
When I reach the bathroom, I have to navigate around my IV pole, untangling all the lines. My hand holds my belly. I’m actually excited about peeing. This is what’s become of me. I untangle my arms, lower my underwear with one hand, and sit on the toilet. A warm sensation comes out of me. It’s not quite how I remember it feeling. It pours out of me forever and ever. It just keeps coming. It’s strangely hot and thick. Using the handrail, I pull myself up and peer into the bowl. My throat closes up and my heart races. Please, God, no. This can’t be happening. I have just weed out blood. Blood. It looks like someone has poured a whole bottle of red wine down the toilet. I slam my hand on the red emergency button next to me and stand on the spot, numb from head to toe.
A young nurse runs into the bathroom and I turn to her wordlessly, still clutching my IV stand. She stares at me and I raise my hand and point to the toilet bowl.
The delicate features of her face turn ghostly white. ‘Stay there,’ she says as she runs to get help.
Within seconds, an older nurse is by my side. ‘It’s okay, darling. Let’s get you back to bed. Not to worry, a doctor will come and see you soon.’ She kneels down at my feet. I don’t know what she’s doing down there. Then she tugs at something and it occurs to me that I’ve been standing here the whole time with my underwear around my ankles. She slowly pulls them up and guides me back to my bed. Before I know it, a doctor is hanging up a bag of donated platelets to help stop the bleeding and the nurse is fussing around with my blood pressure cuff. The hospital spins around me as I lie on my back staring at the ceiling, frozen. Something is seriously wrong with me.
‘Darling, would you like me to call your parents?’ the nurse asks.
‘NO!’ I say fiercely, finally finding my words. ‘Please don’t call them. I don’t want them to worry.’
The nurse gives me a bedpan and says I can use it if I need to, but I’m on strict orders not to move off my back until the bleeding has stopped. I need to go to the toilet again. I don’t think I’ll be going home anytime soon.
* * *
It’s been two whole days. I haven’t moved from my back for two whole days. I’m sure there’s a permanent imprint of my body on this mattress.
It turns out I was part of the one to two per cent of people who experience massive bleeding after a biopsy. Yay. I am so special.
My parents were a little upset that I didn’t ring to let them know what was happening. The following day, Mum almost bounced into my ward, a spring in her step, prepared to take me home. Breaking the news to her that I needed to stay in hospital longer resulted in the concerned look that I thought had disappeared making its way back into her frown lines.
‘Chloe, you have a visitor,’ Mum says as she walks into the room. Following closely behind her is Miss Carmen. She’s changed her hair; it must be close to concert time.
‘Darling Chloe, I hear you have been having a difficult time,’ she says as she comes to take my hand. ‘Would you like to go for a walk to the cafe?’
I look to Mum, uncertain if I’m able to walk yet, and she nods. ‘The nurse said the bleeding has stopped and you can move around a little bit.’
Miss Carmen loops her arm though mine and helps me off the bed. My legs feel as though they have no bones in them anymore. Miss Carmen is tender and patient with me—a change from her fiery demeanour in the dance studio—as she slowly guides me through the long hospital corridors. I’d do anything to have her blasting corrections at me again.
When we reach the cafe, I take a seat, tired from the walk. I’m like a little old grandma. That was the furthest I’ve walked since arriving here.
My fluid intake is already over for the day, but not wanting to be rude, I order a strawberry-flavoured milk to sip on while Miss Carmen talks.
‘Chloe darling. Good news. I have arranged for you to finish the second half of your diploma next year. You can start back in August where you left off. In the meantime, if you wish, you can start working on all your theory assignments,’ she says before taking a sip of her cappuccino.
I sit in silence. A month ago, I would have been overjoyed by this news. But now… ‘Thank you, really. I just… I wish it could’ve been different. I’m a little disappointed because, well… I guess I just wasn’t meant to go to Washington, huh? I don’t even have abs anymore,’ I say with a half-hearted laugh. ‘I won’t be able to dance like I used to. I don’t know if I ever will. They keep telling me I need to forget about dancing,’ I mumble this last bit, stumbling over my words before taking a gulp of strawberry milk. ‘What happens if I have to stay on dialysis for the rest of my life? How will I ever dance professionally if I’m hooked up to a machine all the time?’
I can see her brain tick over as she looks for the right words. ‘Darling. You will get your diploma. I know you will. But for now, you need to rest and recover. And I will be here waiting when you return. We will do it together.’ She pauses, then says, ‘The future is uncertain, yes, but remember that you have a very special gift for teaching and choreography. There are so many avenues you can go down and still be involved in the dance world. When you are ready, I will do everything I can to help you get there.’
I realise she is right. Teaching and choreography had always been a plan of mine for after I’d danced professionally, but maybe I’ll just have to get there earlier than I thought. She takes my hand, still tightly wrapped around my strawberry-milk carton. ‘Stay strong, my girl. We have a plan and I will be here when you are ready.’
Teaching, choreography, examining, Pilates. Everything and anything under the sun, as long as it allows me to be in the dance world. It lifts my spirits to have a goal, and I know I will get my diploma—even if it takes me a hundred years.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The sleepover
OCTOBER 2008
That strawberry milk tipped me over. My BP is rising, my lungs are filling up with fluid again, and I’m back on the oxygen mask. Was it worth it? Hell yes!
I’ve just had another surprise makeover that Mum organised with a beautician and I’m feeling like an absolute queen. I’ve finished off my dialysis for the day and am back in J2. I kind of wish Jake was visiting today. My hair is nice, my eyebrows are waxed, and the
excess fluid has gone from my body. I’m looking much better than the last time he saw me.
‘Hey, babes.’
My head snaps around at the sound of a voice I haven’t heard in so long, and standing in the doorway is…
‘Demi!’ I squeal as she runs over and hugs me. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you’d be tied down with ballet assessments.’
‘Nah, they can wait. I’ve missed you so much! I asked your mum to ask the nurses if I could sleep over and girl, we are in for a night. I’ve got facials, I’ve got movies, we can go to the cafe to eat burgers—it’s going to be great.’ She dumps her bag and jumps up onto my bed. ‘How you feeling, chicky? The studio is so boring without you, and oh my god—soooo much drama in my life. I gotta fill you in.’ She keeps chatting away and I laugh. I’m used to her being so chill, yet fiercely determined in the dance studio. Today she’s vibrant, like a sunbeam trapped in my room, bouncing around and washing away all the darkness. It’s good to see her, and the longer she talks, the more I feel connected to my old life.
‘So, it sounds like you’ve been busy tearing up the dance floor as always?’ I say when she finally stops for breath.
‘Of course, hun. But let’s not talk dance, huh? Let’s have some fun!’ She’s got a mischievous look on her face. My body is a little drained from dialysis, but Demi grabs the wheelchair and practically forces me to sit down. ‘Let’s go,’ she announces.
Zooming out past the desk at J2, we laugh and giggle as we yell out to the nurses: ‘Seeya later’ and ‘See you never’. The nurses laugh and tell us to make sure we are back by 8 pm.
‘Hold on,’ Demi whispers in my ear. She pushes me forward, picking up speed, quicker and quicker, then she spins the chair in a full circle. We come to a halt momentarily, then take off again.
‘Woooooohoooooo!’ I scream as we fly past people who are quietly keeping to themselves and they shake their heads at us.
We are both crying with laughter when we arrive at the hospital cafe that serves the biggest burgers. As we stuff our faces with giant chicken burgers, she fills me in on all her gossip. ‘So, I have a boyfriend.’
I almost spit out my burger. Unlike Katy, Demi never really talks about boys with me because we are usually so wrapped up in dance. I had no idea she was even interested in a relationship. ‘What? No way! Tell me everything,’ I say. I want to know what it feels like to be in love. I want to know what it feels like to be touched. I want to know what it feels like to be happy.
She tries to play it cool, like it’s no big deal, only giving me a few details here and there, but I can tell from her sly grin and flushed cheeks how happy she is. And I’m happy for her, but I want to feel that feeling too. I want to feel what she is feeling with her boyfriend so desperately before I leave this earth, it’s as if there’s a spring coiled inside me waiting for the moment it can be let free. Jake comes to mind and I try hard not to let my imagination wander.
After our burgers, Demi wheels me back to the ward at full speed while I wave cheekily at the old men giving us disapproving looks. Right now, we are the happiest, craziest people in the whole hospital.
Soon after we return to J2, I am drained. I only have a limited supply of energy these days, but I push through, straining to keep my eyes open as we watch a movie. It’s been the best night I’ve had in hospital so far. For a moment, I even forgot I was sick. I actually felt like a teenager again.
As soon as the movie credits roll, Demi stretches herself out on the fold-out bed next to me and I can no longer keep my eyes open. ‘Night, girl,’ I say.
‘Night, hun. Love ya!’ she says before we both crash.
* * *
When I wake up the following morning, Demi is already up; her usual smoky eye make-up has been applied and her bags are packed. She has a curious look on her face. ‘Do they do that to you every night?’ she says.
‘What?’ I say, sitting up.
‘The nurses. They came in here every hour to give you tablets and take notes from that machine, all night long,’ she says. The line between her brows intensifies.
‘Oh, you mean my vitals? Yeah. I need the medication to keep my blood pressure down. Sorry, did it keep you up?’ I say.
‘No… Well, yeah… I mean. But that’s really hectic, Clo. You mustn’t get any sleep in here.’ Her eyes remain glued to me. Until this point, I don’t think she had fully grasped how sick I was, or what life had been like for me. I didn’t expect her to, either. I don’t think anyone really knows what hospital life is like until you’ve experienced it.
‘It’s okay. Last night was a relatively good night. I didn’t have a seizure and I didn’t need oxygen, so that’s a win.’ My attempt at a joke falls flat and her jaw drops before she gathers herself.
‘Just come back to ballet soon, okay? I miss you like crazy,’ she says, then she grabs her bags and kisses me goodbye.
* * *
It’s funny how just one person can completely brighten your day. When I first went into hospital, there was a lot of hype around it, and I had dozens of visitors and cards and flowers. But the longer I am sick and the more time that passes, the more people forget that I am stuck here by myself—they all have to get on with their lives. I’m not sad about it, it’s just an observation. Life gets busy and people get wrapped up in their own worries. I wonder if it’s because they think I’ll be in here forever. I still have my family, although my brother Zac has only been to see me a couple of times. He hates hospitals and I think it makes him upset to see me so sick.
Okay, maybe I am a little sad.
* * *
No major emergencies this week. Hallelujah. I’ve even had enough strength and energy to occupy myself with some activities. This almost-adult person sat and made a mosaic candle holder the other day in the kid’s game room. But I received some exciting news today that I can’t wait to tell Fezzy when she arrives soon.
While I wait for my sister, I pop down off my bed and draw my curtain across so no one can see me. Using the rail at the end of my bed to create a makeshift barre, I place my feet in first position, then slowly tendu and pointe my foot to second. Stretching my foot hard, I—
‘Ow. Ow. Ow. Shit. Cramp. Cramp. Ugh.’ I grab hold of my foot, jumping around the ward and cursing as I try to uncramp my foot. Damn it. I sit on my bed and massage my foot out until I hear running down the hall.
‘Chloeeee,’ Fezzy squeals as she flings open the curtain and runs over to me. ‘I made this for you.’ She hands me a tiny piece of paper.
‘Oh my goodness, it’s beautiful! And you’ve even glued a peg to the back of this one!’ I say, trying not to laugh. I know she is struggling without me, and in moments like these, I wish I had spent more time with her when I was well instead of pushing her aside because dance was always my priority. Over her shoulder, I see my brother and his new girlfriend walk in the door. ‘Zac, Riley. How are you guys?’
‘Hey, Clo. What’s doing?’ Zac says casually. He stands a whole six-feet tall with dark hair and a beard. He’s a bit of a gentle giant.
‘It’s doing good, brother,’ I say, trying to speak his language. Fail. Instead, I focus my attention on his girlfriend. She’s blonde and also tall. They met while working in the fruit and veg section at Woolworths. It’s a bit cute.
I’ve met Riley a couple of times now, and even though I’m in a hospital bed, I still need to chat with her more to make sure she’s right for my brother. ‘How’ve you been, Riley? How’s work? Life? You treating my brother well?’ I don’t really know how to do the whole interrogation thing and I don’t get very far before my sister chimes in.
‘Chloe, read my card.’
Today’s card has a picture of love hearts and two faces coloured in with gel pens. I think the faces are supposed to be the two of us. It reads, Dear Chloe, I can’t wait till you come home. Get better soon. Lots and lots of love from your sister Phoebe xxxooo Get better.
This card makes sense today. I’m impressed.
> Time for my exciting news. ‘Well, guess what?’ I say as I poke her belly.
‘What?’ she says, her eyes wide.
‘I. Am. Allowed. To…’ I pause.
‘What!’ she says.
‘Dr Shaan said if all is well, I’m allowed to come home at the end of the week,’ I say with a grin.
Her little face beams with joy. ‘I’m going to put another prayer on the tree in the prayer room for you,’ she says as she hugs me. Apparently, she’s been going to the hospital chapel with Mum and Nan and putting up prayers for me. Mum already knows I’m coming home, but I wanted to break the news to Fezzy myself.
I am absolutely done with this place!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A living nightmare
NOVEMBER 2008
Oh god. This is the end. I’ve only been home from the hospital for two days and I can’t, I just can’t go back.
I wake up after a nap drenched in sweat, every inch of my body screaming out. I can’t move. My bones, my joints, my muscles, my entire body is throbbing with pain. They ache so badly I think I’m becoming paralysed and there’s nothing I can do about it.
This is it. I’m never going to be able to dance again.
My nan is at home looking after me while Mum and Dad watch Phoebe sing in a school performance. ‘Nan! Nan! Quickly,’ I scream, and then start to sob. Please, please don’t take me back there, I pray to the universe, to God or anyone else who might be listening.
‘Chloe, what’s happened?’ My nan runs over to me and pulls back my sheets to see my body dripping with sweat.
‘Nan, I am too sore to move,’ I say. I try to stay calm but my throat is closing up once more. ‘Everything hurts. I–I–I think it’s my fault. I know I shouldn’t have, but I tried to do some Pilates yesterday. I think I went overboard.’
‘Okay. Just stay still for the moment and I will get some help,’ Nan says before running out of my room. Deep down I know it’s not the Pilates that is causing me such pain. Something is terribly, terribly wrong with me. I’m scared for my life. Really, truly scared this time.
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