The Letter

by Mary Crawford

  “I don’t know if you’ve met my William, but he is a driven man. When he makes up his mind about something he wants, he doesn’t let anything get in his way. When we met, he was on his way to trial. I was working at the Five-n-Dime. He spilled something on his tie. That day, I was wearing a tie as part of my Halloween costume. I was dressed up like a gangster. He decided he didn’t want one of the ties in the store, he wanted my tie.”

  “That’s quite an opening line.”

  “Yeah, all the time he spent flirting with me made him late for court. He says that’s the only time he’s ever been late for court in his entire career but it was worth it.”

  “He wasn’t just an excellent jurist, the man had moves,” I comment with a laugh.

  “You have no idea! From that moment on, we were like fireworks on the 4th of July. You couldn’t keep us apart. Keep in mind this was back in the day when girls were taught sex was a duty you weren’t exactly supposed to enjoy. Bullpucky! We burned up the sheets!”

  “Umm … Congratulations?” I stammer. “I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed to say here.”

  Heather snorts with laughter. “We tried to warn you.”

  “Even we old people weren’t always old,” Gwendolyn teases. “I was once a looker too.”

  Kiera high-fives her mother-in-law. “Who are you kidding? You’re still a looker. My dad thinks you’re the sexiest thing on the planet.”

  Isabel looks over at her friend.

  “It’s true Gwen, he does.” She glances back over at me. “Trust me, there’s a point to this conversation. Anyway, before I was diagnosed with breast cancer, our sex life was H-O-T, hot. We had no complaints.”

  Isabel clears her throat and takes a drink of water before she continues, “Then the big C entered our world and changed everything. All of a sudden William forgot he was my lover. He became my caretaker. Even long after my mastectomy and reconstruction scars healed, he acted like he was afraid to touch me for fear I would break. I questioned whether he even found me attractive anymore. After all, I’d lost all the hair on my head and everywhere else. I even lost my eyelashes and eyebrows. I looked like some strange alien. In my mind, there was no way he could find somebody like me attractive anymore. I became sullen, depressed, and anxious. My anxiety made it difficult for me to leave the house.”

  The pain in Isabel’s expression makes it clear that it feels like it happened yesterday instead of years ago.

  “My depression and anxiety made William’s protective instincts kick in even more. If I wanted to go out dancing or for a walk, he would openly question whether I was up to it. If I wanted to go to church, he would complain about the germs. If I wanted to go to the grocery store, he would offer to go in my place stating that I would get too tired if I went. Soon, I felt like I was incapable of doing anything on my own.”

  I hang my head for a moment as I gather my thoughts.

  “Okay, I can see that my remarks probably sounded a lot like that. I’ll be honest, I came off like a jerk. She was trying to tell me some exciting news and I stomped all over it.”

  A woman with shoulder length dark hair holds up her coffee cup in a mock salute. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Heather’s sister, Madison. So, here’s my advice: It’s pretty simple. Don’t be a jerk. Okay, maybe that’s a little too simplistic. I’ve been in your shoes. I’ve been the one trying to support someone with health issues. It’s hard to help without being pushy. Sometimes it helps to ask if they’re just venting or if they actually need you to step in and solve something.”

  Kiera puts her arm on my shoulder. “Madison has a good point. Was Mallory asking for help?”

  I blush as I admit, “No, in fact she specifically told me it was good news and I didn’t have to rush in and rescue anyone.”

  “You remind me a lot of my husband Jeff. When we first met, he was still in law school. He was earning extra money on the side as a lifeguard. He has EMT training as well. After he found out I have autonomic dysreflexia, he was always on alert in case my health was compromised. I finally had to tell him to stand down because he was stressing me out. We almost broke up because he felt like I wasn’t being honest with him when I got an unexpected kidney infection before we got married. He thought I was deliberately keeping my health status a secret from him. We had to work on our trust issues. He had to trust that I would be honest with him and I had to believe that he could handle it if things didn’t go well. Eventually, we got to a place where we could reach a compromise — but it took a while.”

  “Since I’ve thoroughly blown it with Mallory, how do I earn back her trust?”

  Madison says, “You said she has a big development at work, right?”

  I nod. “She said it’s the biggest in her whole career.”

  Gwendolyn and Isabel grimace at the same time. “What awful timing,” Isabel murmurs. “How long did she say this first round of chemo is supposed to last?”

  “She’s got one more week and then she has a break for three weeks. Then she has to do another two-week session.”

  “If I were you, the first thing I would do would be to apologize with the grandest gesture you can. Then spend a lot of time simply listening to her tell the story she was trying to tell you in the first place.”

  Gwendolyn nods. “I agree. Then — and only then — you can ask her if there’s anything she needs you to do to help.”

  “I can do that. Does anyone have an idea for a grand gesture?”

  Madison grins widely. “Actually, I do. She pulls out her phone. Your ‘wife’ and I had a long conversation after the concert a while back.” She shows me some pictures of long-haired lab puppies. “A few months ago, somebody dropped a box of these off out at the horse farm. I don’t know what people think happens to animals they drop off out in the country, but we found homes for all of them. This particular puppy, Ladybug, was placed with a Coast Guard pilot and his wife. Ladybug has completed all of her puppy training and was halfway through an intermediate class when the family was deployed somewhere where they can’t take pets. They’ve returned Ladybug to me. These pictures were on my phone when I was showing Mallory pictures of my Arabian horses. She fell head over heels in love with the puppies. I don’t know if it’s feasible, but your girlfriend would love to have a dog. If you could make it work, that would be the grandest of gestures.”

  “You’ve evaluated this dog and there’s nothing strange about it. It doesn’t eat small kittens or bite your hand off when you feed it?”

  “Those are good questions. She just came in last night, but we dog sat Ladybug one weekend. The only strange reaction I saw was to my house slipper. She tried to cuddle with it because apparently she had a toy which resembled it closely. Even so, she didn’t try to destroy it; she kept stealing it to take it into her crate.”

  “I have to go home and check Mallory’s backyard and the strength of her fence. I didn’t worry about it too much with Chevy Chase because he’s mostly an indoor cat,” I comment as I try not to get too excited. I know how much Mallory loves dogs. Every time she sees Sugar Ray over at my parents’ house, she grins from ear to ear.

  “Just let me know, I’ll be happy to get Ladybug all spiffed up and ready to go.”

  Gwendolyn pats my arm. “It sounds like you’ve got a good plan to make this difficult time as happy as it can be. Do you have any questions for us?”

  The compassion in Gwendolyn’s voice is enough to do me in. I swallow hard before I ask, “How do I deal with the fear?”

  “Whose fear?” Isabel asks. “Yours or hers?”

  “I don’t know…maybe both? She’s afraid I won’t love her without both of her breasts being perfect or without her hair. I’ve tried to tell her over and over again it doesn’t matter.”

  “You can’t tell her, Rocco. You have to show her — over and over and over until the end of time,” Gwendolyn instructs softly.

  “What about my fear? I spend hours on the Internet researching drug protocols,
new treatments and trials with the FDA. I lay awake at night hoping to hear her breathe normally. I take her blood pressure and her respirations. I watch to see how her clothes fit to see if she’s losing too much weight. Even when she’s at chemotherapy, I watch the clock minute by minute with my hand on my phone in case I miss the ring.”

  “What’s the worst that could happen?” Isabel asks gently.

  “She could die,” I stammer.

  “What did her oncologist say about the odds of that happening with stage 1B breast cancer?”

  “He said the odds were incredibly low. Mallory is lucky. She got her mammogram basically on a dare — but because she did it, she was able to catch the cancer very early.”

  “So, there you go. The person whose job it is to help her fight cancer has given you permission to let go of your fear. I don’t think it gets much clearer than that,” Isabel says. “If I were in your shoes, I’d do my best to live life like you’ve got one shot and you want no regrets.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  MALLORY

  THE LIGHT COMES STREAMING INTO the room like a welding torch and I have to adjust the towel over my face. When Sheila sees me curled up in a fetal position in the oversized recliner chair, she exclaims, “When Gemma told me you were in the headache room, I figured you wanted to talk. I didn’t think you actually had a headache. Do you want me to go away?”

  I roll over and adjust the ice pack up behind my neck. “No, please stay. I’m just having a bad day. I think it’s probably a stress headache. I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

  “Were you riding the puke train or did Mr. Perfect and Devastatingly Handsome suddenly have an epiphany and figure out you have cancer?”

  I snicker at her description of Rocco. But, she’s not wrong. “A little of both, actually. How did you know?”

  “In the beginning, cancer is very dramatic with all sorts of urgent medical appointments and tests. It seems like there’s a whirlwind of breaking news and decisions to be made. But, after that’s over and you settle into a routine, the numbness wears off. That’s when the real deep down, soul-searching fear sets in. It’s not ‘Am I going to live or die?’ fear. It’s ‘How do I live with cancer?’ fear. It’s a different kind of fear. It’s harder to talk about. People understand the question of whether you’ll live or die. They don’t understand when you have to figure out whether you have the strength to have dinner with your family or go grocery shopping. They don’t understand the bargains we have to strike with ourselves and the people around us over things we never had to negotiate before.”

  Tears well up in the corners of my eyes. “Rocco doesn’t understand. I don’t want to focus all of my attention on getting well. If I lose who I am to my breast cancer, it won't matter anyway. I want to keep working. It keeps me sane. If I have to think about what the cancer cells are doing to my body every minute of every day, I’ll go crazy. I know Rocco means well. I do. But do you want to know what the crazy man wants me to do? He wants me to meditate on envisioning my good cells conquering the cancer cells. I don’t have time for that garbage. I’d rather not think about it at all. I want to think about going back to work and freeing Marshall Todd. That’s what makes me feel powerful. My cancer is only a temporary setback.”

  “You told me your boyfriend is some sort of firefighter, right?”

  “He’s a paramedic.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Oh Lordy, he has had some medical training. They can be some of the most annoyingly persistent ones. He’s probably gone to some workshop somewhere which taught the principle of positive imagery. There’s probably some truth to the concept. I mean think about it. If you watch the nurses give you a shot and you know it’s a big needle, it hurts a lot more than if you don’t see the needle going in. I would rather have a nurse tell me it’ll be a small poke than to have a nurse tell me to brace myself for a large stick. Every time I’ve had a nurse tell me it’s a large stick, it seems to hurt a lot more.”

  I wince at the thought of the painful injections.

  “Your boyfriend is right. Focusing positive energy toward healing is a powerful tool.”

  I wrinkle my nose at Sheila. I didn’t expect her to side with Rocco.

  “Wait. I’m not done yet. You’re right too. Cancer can’t be your only focus. There are too many hours in the day.” She rubs her bald head. “It changes almost everything about you. It’s nice to have something, anything to distract you. I wish I still had my job. There are only so many word searches and crossword puzzles I can do. As crazy as it seems, even with YouTube, Netflix and Hulu, I’m starting to see reruns of my reruns.”

  I rub my tired eyes. “I didn’t help matters much last night either. Yeah, I was mad at Rocco for what he said. He was kind of a jerk. But more than anything, I was mad at cancer for putting me in this situation.”

  “I feel you. There are times I set my crutches in the corner and scream at them.”

  “I was beyond rude to Rocco. I was so ticked off last night I didn’t even look at him. I know that bugged him. I’m not even sure what I’ll say to him tonight when I get home.”

  “I’m not a professional counselor or anything, but it seems like if you start with ‘I apologize. I let a situation get out of control because I was angrier at my cancer than I was at you.’, it might smooth things over.”

  I twirl the pen between my fingers as I admit, “Wow, you mind if I borrow your copy? At this point it’s better than anything I’ve come up with on my own. It’s pretty much a truth bomb.”

  “These days, it’s a special talent of mine. I don’t have much time for BS. Feel free to use it. I hope it clears up the air between the two of you. I am going to go play cards with Elmer today. He says I owe him a rematch. He’s probably right. You need to get some rest. I have a feeling you might be busy tonight,” Sheila says with a wink as she wheels her IV out of the room.

  I’m startled awake by the alarm on the pump managing the flow of the medicine in my IV. When I open my eyes, Rocco is standing at the foot of the recliner with a bouquet of yellow roses. There are well over a dozen. I smile at Rocco with tears in my eyes. “Let me guess, fifteen?”

  He nods before he walks over and turns off the annoying alarm on the monitor. I guess there are a few real perks in dating someone with medical knowledge. He turns back to me and says, “There is a cream one hidden in here somewhere. Gwendolyn said you would probably understand.”

  “I do. Thank you so much. They are beautiful. If I’m honest with myself, you are not the only person who jumped to conclusions yesterday. I’m sorry too.”

  “I need to say this out loud so you understand. The flowers are not enough. I am used to jumping in and making all the decisions. I did a terrible job of listening to you. I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time.”

  Gemma peaks her head in the door. “All done?”

  “Yeah, the alarm went off a couple of minutes ago.”

  Gemma gives Rocco the once over. “Oh… hi! Mallory has told us all about you. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Gemma, Mallory’s primary nurse. She’s so lucky to have you to take such great care of her.”

  Rocco blushes bright red. “These days, I’m not sure she feels quite so lucky,” he deflects.

  “That’s not true and you know it. I just had a bad night. We’re always going to have our ups and downs like every couple.” I turn to Gemma. “Can you unhook me? I’d like to go home. My head still hurts.”

  Gemma pivots back toward Rocco and addresses him, “As you know, the headache could be exacerbated by dehydration. Make sure she gets plenty of fluid. If her nausea is extreme, like it was the first night, make sure you bring her back to the ER. I’m sure they’ll hang a bag of fluids.”

  Rocco nods solemnly. “Don’t worry. We’re on the same page there.”

  “Guys I’m fine. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been susceptible to stress headaches if I don’t get enough sleep or if I cry. Last night I did both. For once, I’m feeling bad just becaus
e of life and not because of the big C word. I simply want to go home and eat some Ben & Jerry’s and bury my head in a bucket of ice and cuddle with Chevy Chase while I go to sleep.”

  Gemma’s eyes widen as she looks back and forth between us with a look of worried befuddlement. Rocco laughs out loud when he replays what I said in his head. “It would probably make more sense if you knew Chevy Chase is my very klutzy cat.”

  Gemma laughs out loud as she blushes. “Oh, you’re right. It makes a lot more sense in that context.”

  Rocco clears his throat. “I’m not sure I want to know what context you were considering.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably better off not knowing,” Gemma responds with a wink.

  Gemma finishes removing the tubing from my port and wipes it off with an alcohol prep wipe. She types some information into the computer and pulls up a schedule. “Okay, you are scheduled to come back on Monday. I will see you bright and early.”

  Rocco picks up my computer bag from the extra chair in the room and hitches it over his shoulder. He puts his arm around my waist and together we leave the hospital as if we’ve just been out on a date to see the latest blockbuster movie.

  After Rocco buckles me into the front seat of his car, he walks around to the driver seat and gets in. He latches his own seatbelt and looks over at me. “Where to? You have a few hours before the nausea hits. Do you want to go anywhere special?”

  “I wish I could. But, I’m completely wiped out and the only place I want to be right now is my bed complete with my down comforter and feather pillows.”

  “Any place where you’re in my arms sounds good to me.”

  I adjust my headphones and glance over at Mindy who is hunched over her iPad wearing headphones of her own. “I’m sorry to bother you. It seems ridiculous to need a babysitter at my age.”

  Mindy looks up with a slightly confused expression. “Oh, am I bothering you? Sometimes I hum when I write lyrics.”

  “No, I’m worried about inconveniencing you. Actually, I’m worried about wearing everyone out. Rocco barely sleeps even though he has to work. He felt bad about working last night because the chemo makes me sick and so that’s why he called you to come over. I’m not sure why he thinks my friends want to watch me throw up.”