Ironic.
“So, um, what now?” I faltered my words, still unsure, hugging my knees to my chest, the thin hospital blanket covering me. I could feel tears threatening to leak, but I took a deep breath and pushed them down.
It barely worked, but I was waiting for Kyle. I couldn’t break down alone. I couldn’t.
“I have a treatment plan outlined. I think we should get started right away if you’re open to it.”
“Kyle’s going to be back any minute,” I reminded him.
“I’ll bring him up to speed,” the doctor assured me. “Monday morning, you’ll start radiation. Five times a week for six weeks. After that, we’ll repeat the scans to look for changes. The goal is to shrink the tumor and its feelers. If those diminish, I can remove the full tumor during surgery. The goal is for you to be cancer free in a few months.”
I watched him. His beard bobbing with each word. Radiation. Surgery. Cancer. Words I feared would become too normal a part of my vocabulary.
“So, two months of radiation and another surgery,” I repeated.
He nodded. “Yes.”
I sat up taller, straightening my knees as I thought this though. I needed to keep it together, because I couldn’t spend the next few months miserable and pessimistic. It wasn’t who I am. I’m not that person. I needed to look for the silver lining as much as I needed air to breathe.
And the lining was that it was only two months. Nothing can be so terrible if it’s only for two months. This entire ordeal would be an ugly bump in the road behind us soon enough.
“Babe?” Kyle walked in with a small brown bag and approached the bed. “Doc? Did you get the results?”
My eyes swung from Kyle’s hopeful face over to Dr. Page, and I gave a small nod of approval. Dr. Page repeated everything in greater detail, and I watched my husband’s face go from hopeful to devastated to determined, and everything in between.
Finally, Dr. Page left and we were alone.
“What’s two months?” I plastered on a smile, hoping he’d see a confidence in me I didn’t feel in myself. “It’s nothing. You’ve been deployed longer and we made it through.”
Long eyes met mine, a depth in them I wasn’t strong enough to explore. “Two months,” he said, his voice soft and meek—something I’d never heard from him before.
I reached my arm to him, beckoning him closer, and he obliged my request. Crawling into the bed beside me, only the blankets separated us as he pulled me to his chest. I lifted my arms to his neck, careful to maneuver my IVs around us. My lips moved to his, and I spoke everything in my heart through our kiss.
I told him two months was so short, we’d barely notice. I told him two months was nothing compared to the rest of our lives, to our family, to Baby Falls. And I told him these two months sounded like the scariest thing I’d ever imagined.
When we parted, Kyle leaned toward the side table where he had set down the bag of food he’d brought in with him earlier. Beside it was my journal, which he must have brought with him because I hadn’t seen it before then. I smiled slowly, wrapping myself in good feelings at how well my husband knew me.
He picked up the journal and laid it on my lap. “Let’s write it down.”
I shook my head. “We’re not doing fertility treatments anymore, Kyle. We may never have a baby. What’s the point?”
“The point is you’ve always wanted to write a book. Now you’re going to have a few weeks off work, and knowing you, you’ll be bored. Take this time to write. It’s okay if it isn’t about parenthood.”
I considered what he said as I leafed through the pages. The big reveals of today made writing a book seem an impossible goal. I turned to a clump of pages stuck together with dried ink and pulled them apart slowly—the smeared ink blot from Dr. Hill’s pen.
I stared at the black words that weren’t words at all, and it was probably the truest thing I’d ever written.
“I can’t. I can’t write about this,” I said.
“Why?” Kyle pushed a stray hair from my eyes, pausing when he came to the bandages.
“I wanted to write a happy story for our child. Something he or she could learn from, love with, something to smile about. Nothing about this is positive.”
“Being positive has nothing to do with rainbows and unicorns, Tessa. It’s about putting your best self out there each and every day. You’re the most real and honest person I know; you can’t help yourself. Our future child isn’t the only one who could learn a thing or two from you or your book,” Kyle replied.
My head against the pillow, I looked into his deep green eyes. He was right. I’d had this beautiful journal less than a week. A giant black ink blot couldn’t be its last entry. I owed my dream more than that.
I owed myself more than that.
I think Kyle could see the agreement in my eyes because he handed me a pen from his pocket. Smiling, I took it and tucked myself closer into his side as I flipped open the journal to the next empty page.
Chapter Six
Saturday, March 29, 2014
* * *
“Beast!” The white fluff-ball of fury charged straight for me the moment I walked in our front door the following morning. A baby gate dangled from its hinges in the kitchen doorway behind him. His little body slammed into my outstretched arms when I bent down to greet him. There was so much force behind his run, I nearly fell backward into Kyle.
Kyle laughed, walking around my embarrassing display of cooing and cuddling. “He obviously missed you.”
I snuggled my cheek into his warm, soft fur as I cradled him in my arms. He wiggled nonstop, panting in excitement as he twisted his body to attack my face with kisses. Suddenly, he stiffened, stretching to get a closer look at the bandage on my head. He sniffed lightly, the tiniest whimper emanating from him.
I cuddled him tighter and wondered how much he understood, or had understood, all this time.
“I’ll never understand why you didn’t get a real dog,” my dad said gruffly, following Kyle inside after he had driven us both home from the hospital.
“Beast is a real dog!” I buried more kisses in his fur. “Just the mini, fluffy version of one.”
Dad grunted at that sentiment. If it wasn’t at least sixty pounds and a Labrador, then it wasn’t a dog. He wasn’t much of an animal person anyway and never let us have a dog when I was a kid. Instead, he allowed us turtles. Don’t ask me why a ten-pound dog wasn’t an acceptable pet, but a ten-pound snapping turtle given to me for my tenth birthday was. The damn thing ended up growing so large we had to give it to a local university with a safe turtle lab—because there is such a thing, apparently. When a U.S. Marine raises two little girls by himself, the results get strange.
“Tessa!” I looked up from booping noses with Beast to see my baby sister walk through the entryway.
The gorgeous blue-eyed blonde looked nothing like me with her perfectly toned everything and long legs surpassing my height by several inches. Physically, we were complete opposites, but our personalities were one and the same. I’d like to think I’m the funniest, though. She got the height gene, give me humor at least.
“Elly!” I held out my arms for her and she rushed right in. We clung to each other, gently rocking back and forth. It was as if we were two magnets who’d been kept apart for so long, and when we found our other halves again, we held on for dear life. “I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you so much.”
“Right back at ya, big sis.” She pulled back, holding me at arm’s length to look me over. Her fingers lingered on the side of my head, a frown pulling at her lips.
“It doesn’t hurt,” I said, trying to assure her. I did not enjoy the look of pity in people’s eyes, and I especially didn’t want to see it in hers.
Elly moved past my comment with another quick hug. “I have our whole day planned, Tessy.”
I smiled; it had been a while since anyone had called me Tessy. In fact, I think Elly is the only one who ever had.
&n
bsp; “Lay it on me.” I followed Beast into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water.
Elly trailed behind and began rattling off her list. “I’ve got all nine seasons of One Tree Hill on DVD geared up and ready to go. The living room has been converted into a dine-in movie theatre extraordinaire! We’re going to binge watch Chad Michael Murray, eat popcorn, and talk throughout the whole thing so we have to rewind every thirty seconds.”
“Oh my God, I love that show!” I clapped excitedly but quickly realized I resembled a twelve-year-old girl. I awkwardly dropped my hands and cleared my throat, acting nonchalant. “Yeah, sounds fun.”
“Dork,” Elly said, snorting and grabbing her own glass of water.
When we’d both finished, she herded me toward the living room. I did a double take when I walked in, stopping in my tracks. Hadn’t I only been gone a day? My living room had large velvet curtains hanging across the windows, darkening the entire room. The couches faced a different direction than before and had a large movie screen projector set up on a table behind them, ready to project Chad Michael Murray in all his glory on the wall. She’d even thought to line the coffee table with magazines, books, candies, a bowl of popcorn, and a random assortment of other goodies.
I balked, still taking it in. “Am I in the wrong house?”
“You’re not in a house anymore.” Elly grinned, taking a seat and patting the cushion beside her. “You’re in the Barnes Movie Theatre.”
“Don’t you mean Falls?”
“Hey, you might be a Falls now, but we will always be Barnes sisters,” she informed me with a pointed finger.
I smiled, taking the seat next to her.
Kyle entered the room a moment later and had a similar heart-stopping reaction to mine. “What fresh hell happened in here?”
“We’re having a movie day,” my sister said simply, hanging over the back of the couch as she fiddled with the projector.
“Not a movie day, a One Tree Hill day,” I clarified.
“Have fun, but don’t ask me to clean this up. That’s on you, Elly,” he said, exiting the room the way he came.
She stuck out her tongue at his retreating back. They loved each other but bickered like siblings. It warmed my heart to see how they’d taken to each other, even when they were at each other’s throats.
“Where did you get this stuff?” I inquired, shifting my weight to lean my head against her shoulder on the couch as the first show began.
“Well, I planned to go to an AV rental store in South Side that promised to have them cheap, but when I got there, I found this guy selling the projector from the trunk of his car for a steal. I had to snatch it up.”
I lifted my head and stared at her, trying to assess her seriousness.
She looked confused at my horrified glare. She was either the bravest woman alive or the dumbest. “What?”
“Elly! Seriously? Was Dad at least with you?”
Her brow furrowed. “No. Why?”
I’m going to go with the dumbest.
“Don’t go to down there alone again. And for goodness sake, don’t buy stuff from the trunks of strangers.” I wondered how my little sister was still breathing. She might have gotten the height gene, but apparently, I got both humor and common sense.
She frowned, pouting slightly. “But it was a steal.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what it was.” I burst out laughing, imagining her traipsing around the south side of Chicago asking sketchy drivers for a look in their trunks.
Despite our best effort to get through all nine seasons—almost two hundred episodes—we only managed to watch three episodes before we became too antsy and had to move around. I loved a television binge day as much as anyone, but I’m naturally an active person. Plus, staring at a screen was doing nothing for my headache.
We settled on leashing Beast and taking him for a walk. The doctor had cautioned me against anything more than light exercise right now, which I felt was already punishment enough, but they’d also put all fertility talk on hold indefinitely. Children were off the table, and I was put back on birth control for now.
Way to kick me in the ovaries when I’m already down.
They’d asked me if I wanted to be prescribed an anti-depressant, too. Like the news of my cancer and loss of motherhood were automatic depression triggers and I was going to drown in their wake. I’d said no, but…I’m still considering my options.
Getting out of the house and taking a walk was a good temporary antidote. Kyle had gone to work—I’m assuming to talk to them about his schedule for the next six weeks—and my dad was busy cooking dinner.
“You know what today reminded me of?” I said to Elly, watching Beast nose-deep in a neighbor’s rose bush, debating whether to rip it to shreds like he’d done to all our flowers.
Elly shooed him away and we kept moving. “What?”
“That day we skipped school and stayed home to watch movies when we were kids.” I grinned, remembering how it had been easy to fool my dad since he worked such long hours. I was the adult in the house most of my childhood, so the responsibility of taking care of Elly often fell on me.
“You skipped school. I was merely a pawn in your delinquent ways,” Elly said with exaggerated effect, waving to a neighbor who’d called hello from her porch.
“If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” I teased her, waving as well.
Beast focused his attention to two preteen boys on skateboards barreling toward us. He began barking as if someone had put a megaphone in front of his face. I glanced around the quiet townhomes, hoping he hadn’t disturbed anyone. We stepped on to the grass to let the skateboarders pass by, pulling a non-compliant Beast with us, before heading back in the direction of the house.
Quiet descended while we walked, stopping every few feet for Beast to sniff or pee on something.
“Are you scared?” Elly asked.
I didn’t meet her eyes, but, instead, watched Beast, now straining on his leash in hopes of catching a sparrow hopping across the sidewalk.
“A little bit. Mainly because I don’t know what to expect, but it’ll be over soon.” I waved my hand as if to dismiss the very idea of fear, though the truth was much different. Ever since I’d heard my diagnosis, it felt like fear was seeping through my pores—pungent and corrosive. Yet, I was masking the scent, keeping it from my family. I wasn’t sure they could handle my fear on top of their own.
“It’s okay to tell me, you know.” Elly lifted her chin. “I’m not a kid anymore.”
“You’ll always be my kid sister, baby girl.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulders—which wasn’t easy with the height difference—and gave her a quick squeeze.
“Yeah, but you don’t need to protect me or take care of me anymore, Tessy. Let me help you.”
“You’re here, and that’s help enough,” I assured her, sidestepping Beast when he unceremoniously stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to sniff a crack.
“I’m going with you to every appointment this week.” Elly took a heavier step than normal, making a loud stomp against the concrete as if in demand.
Beast jumped in surprise and growled at her feet, then went back to sniffing a mystery smudge on the concrete beneath him.
“I’d like that,” I told her. “Kyle and Dad both have work during the day. Crap, that reminds me, I should call my boss and tell him what’s happening.”
“Are you going to quit?”
“Not if he doesn’t make me. Maybe he will let me take a medical leave instead, or work shorter hours. I’m not sure what the protocol is for this.” I pondered the idea as we returned to the house with Beast in tow.
I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed at how much one little tumor was going to disrupt my life.
Chapter Seven
Monday, March 31, 2014
* * *
“You can change in the bathroom over there. Here’s a gown,” the radiation therapy technologist said, a smile on her lips
that barely reached her tired eyes.
“It won’t work in my regular clothes?” I asked, already certain she would say no but giving it a shot anyway.
She looked at my jeans and sweatshirt, frowning. “Not those, sorry. If you wear leggings and a T-shirt next time, something like that would work fine. Just no metal or thick fabrics.”
I changed and balled my clothes on a shelf in the bathroom, hoping it was okay to leave them there. Kyle and Elly were in the waiting room, and my dad was home with Beast. I didn’t want him to come to the hospital if it wasn’t necessary. I knew how hard it was for him after what he went through with Mom.
“Perfect. Are you ready?” the technologist asked when I emerged from the bathroom.
“I think so.”
She motioned for me to follow her, and we went down a short, inner hallway that led to a set of double doors. Inside, a giant machine dwarfed most of the room, making it look smaller than it probably was. The walls had a dark, industrial look and signs indicated they were lined with concrete and lead—thick and impenetrable to contain the radiation.
I followed her inside, my steps slowing, and my eyes widening at the gray monstrosity waiting for me.
“Lie down here for me, Mrs. Falls.” The technologist moved to a thin table in front of the radiation machine and tapped on its surface.
It looked cold as ice and my skin immediately puckered at the thought of touching it. Gingerly, I sat on the cool surface, a shiver going through me. “Can we turn on the heat in here?”
“Unfortunately, the machine must be a certain temperature. I’ll get you a blanket once you lie down.”
She left the room into what looked like an even smaller room. I watched her through a tiny, tinted square window centered on the wall while she grabbed a blanket and reemerged.
Pulling my feet up onto the table, I tried to find a comfortable way to lie down. My legs were bent by a wedge under my knees and my head was sandwiched between two boards that kept me from turning my head to the side. I stared up at what looked like a giant, metal circle pointing down at me—the tallest part of the machine.
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