by Emily Bold
‘Well . . . I just couldn’t remember certain things. And I was feeling a little dizzy.’
She was almost relieved when the nurse entered. How on earth was she going to explain to her husband that she hadn’t been able to remember his name? What was he going to think of her? It was silly to feel embarrassed about something that wasn’t even her fault, Lauren knew that, but she felt embarrassed anyway.
‘All right, Mrs Parker, let’s get you down to the examination room,’ the nurse said in a monotonous tone of voice, releasing the bed’s locking brake. ‘You know the drill.’
Tim didn’t want to let go of Lauren’s hand, but she nervously wriggled herself free.
‘It’s all right. Wait here, and take care of Alyssa. Talk to her,’ she asked, offering a faint, dejected smile.
Lauren held her eyes tightly shut. The slight breeze blowing into her face was meant to have a calming effect and take away her fear of the claustrophobic MRI tube. She had opened her eyes only once, very briefly, and could feel the panic rise to her throat. She knew there was no reason to panic. She was not alone, the hospital staff was within earshot, and she was clutching an emergency button in her hand. Nothing bad was going to happen, she remembered from previous examinations, but still she could not help but feel nervous. It wasn’t easy to stay calm with the scanner blaring away. The noise, the constricted space, not being able to move . . . it was almost driving her out of her mind.
She was endlessly happy when she was wheeled out of the tube and finally able to breathe freely again. Of course, she would now have to wait for the results of the scan, and that was scary, too, but it was a different kind of scary. Deeper. But less acute.
When she was being wheeled along the long hospital hallways back to her room, she kept her eyes focused on the ceiling above, squinting up at every neon light they passed. A highway made of light. Where would this highway take her? How far would her journey go? And, most importantly . . . when would her journey end?
Without knowing the results of the scan, she knew that her cancer must have returned. It was almost as if her body was telling her as much in a hushed voice. As if it was revealing the horrible news, letting her know ahead of time, so as to soften the blow when Eckhard confirmed the results. Lauren folded her hands over the comforter in prayer. She wasn’t wearing a ring, because she had to take off all jewelry before being allowed into the MRI room. Now she looked at the thin white line on her finger where normally she wore her wedding ring – the token of her love for Tim. Would he cry when she died?
Lauren gasped for air, unexpectedly trembling. It was a stupid thought, but all of a sudden it wasn’t important what she felt, but rather what everyone else was going to feel after she was gone. She was probably projecting her own grief onto her friends, her family. In a selfish kind of way, knowing that she wasn’t the only one suffering almost made it easier to accept her fate.
If only she could spare them all the pain and sorrow! Why was dying such a horrible thing? Why did it need to be so awful on all of them? Why did it hurt so much?
Was there no other way? A way that was easier on everyone?
* * *
The stars above seemed to shine a little brighter tonight. Did the sky itself know what a special night this was for all of them?
Lauren quite liked the idea of the moon and stars shining just for her.
‘That day, on my way back to the hospital room, was the first day that I ever thought about what dying would be like. I mean, would really be like. All that pain . . . and then letting go,’ Lauren said into the silence of the night. She could feel the eyes of her friends and family on her back, but was incapable of looking at them right now. It was hard enough to talk, even without seeing the pain and compassion on everyone’s face. But there was so much left to be said.
Fragrant Flowers
It was as if Lauren and Tim were reliving the same few days all over again. The shock, the conversations with the doctors, being worried about the future. And yet, this time it was different.
There was no hoping for a happy ending.
There was no therapy; nothing to save her or at the very least buy her extra time. The miracle they had hoped for failed to happen. The cancer was back. It had spread via the corpus callosum to the other side of her brain, aggressively infiltrating Lauren’s brain cells.
Professor Ahrens had made time to talk in detail about the repercussions. Patiently explained how the last few remaining weeks of Lauren’s life might play out.
Weeks!
Unfathomable! Several months had turned into a few weeks. Twelve, maybe less, but more were unlikely.
If her previously predicted remaining lifespan had seemed like the duration of a heartbeat to them, this here was no more than the blink of an eye. Nothing was of importance anymore. Italy, suddenly, no longer mattered, and the straw hat in their living room turned into the sad reminder of a life unlived.
Lauren had allowed herself only one day of grief and desperation. A day she had spent crying and giving in to her fear. A day to rail against her fate, and simultaneously both envy and curse every healthy body in this world.
Then she went out into the yard and started yanking the bushes in the dark corner out by their roots. She was sweating and the springtime afternoon sun was beating down on her shoulders, as she cut around the root ball of the cherry laurel shrub. She managed to loosen the soil enough to be able to shift the giant bush in its original plant hole, but she barely had enough strength to move the bush never mind pull it out. The skeptical look on Heather’s face burned into her back like the rays of the sun.
Well, she’d show her!
She put all of her anger, her pain, and her desperation into this project, digging her heels into the grass with spirited vigor. Again and again she tried to grab a firm hold of the budding branches to pull the laurel from its hole. Her hands turned green from the sap of the young leaves, and her arms were trembling from the strain.
‘Do you maybe need some help?’
Lauren turned around and wiped the perspiration from her brow. She swallowed, but tried very hard not to let her surprise show. Instead, she straightened her sore back and gave a simple nod.
Mia came closer and seemed a little unnerved. No wonder! Lauren almost laughed out loud at the look of both remorse and rebellious stubbornness on her daughter’s face.
Her gorgeous golden hair was dyed pitch black, from the roots all the way to the tips.
‘New hair color?’ Lauren asked as coolly as she could, trying to not let her shock show too much. She bit her tongue to stop herself from commenting further. Mia, with her dark clothes and black hair, looked like a zombie attending a funeral.
‘Kim dyed it for me. I like it,’ Mia claimed, before pressing her thin Chucks against the trunk of the laurel bush, finally managing to make it lean slightly sideways. Only then did she – clearly still somewhat unnerved – raise her head and look straight at Lauren.
‘I don’t much care for it, but if you like it . . .’ Lauren started.
‘Typical! You never like anything I do! Not what I’m wearing, not who I’m hanging out with—’
Lauren grabbed Mia by the shoulders and pulled her into her arms.
‘Honey, let me finish!’ She shook her gently to get her to listen. ‘I liked your hair just fine as it was before, but if you like it this way, then I won’t say anything against it. Not if . . . if it helps you . . . deal with everything. OK?’ She pressed a kiss against Mia’s black shock of hair.
Mia nodded and bit her nails.
‘OK. So what about this bush, then?’ she asked gruffly.
Lauren smiled and pulled her daughter against her one more time. She could feel Mia resisting, but also how her eldest snuggled into her for the tiniest moment and sighed. She was so young, a baby still, and Lauren wanted nothing more than to make the coming months easier for her. If Mia’s new hair color helped her to be strong, then so be it. It was a small price to pay.
>
‘I want to pull it out and plant colorful flowers and perennials instead. I think it’ll look nice in the summer when everything is in full bloom,’ Lauren explained. She knew what Mia was thinking – that maybe she wouldn’t live to see the summer – but Mia didn’t say anything. She just nodded and pulled up the sleeves on her baggy, black and gray sweater.
‘All right, let’s go,’ she said, and stepped over to the bush. With their combined effort it wasn’t too hard to hoist the plant from its hole, and together they dragged it over to the driveway, huffing and wheezing.
Two wooden boxes were already sitting there, full of plants and seedlings Lauren had placed into her shopping cart at the garden center before she collapsed. Her dad had gone back that same day and paid for everything. Lauren felt very touched, because buying these plants and then assuming she would live to use them: It was such a normal thing, but not something she expected under the circumstances. It was his attempt to motivate her to keep going. To pull her from this deep, black hole of despair by giving her a job to do.
And it was working. The earth under her knees and the dirt under her fingernails managed to achieve something that neither Tim nor her parents had been able to do. Lauren found an inner peace that allowed her to accept her fate. She would never see these flowers bloom but, hell, bloom they would! For Tim, for her kids, for everyone who took pleasure in looking at them, and maybe they would remember her and this day with a small smile.
She kneeled on the ground, patting down the soil around the root ball and blowing a small, annoying strand of hair from her forehead. Then she leaned back and surveyed her achievement with a sense of satisfaction. Mia, beside her, rubbed the earth off her fingers, waiting for Lauren’s verdict.
‘I love it!’ Lauren was thrilled and smiled at her daughter. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think it’s great! We did a good job, didn’t we?’
Lauren turned to Mia. ‘We did. And I’m glad you helped me.’
She swallowed, because her throat was getting tight again as she looked at Mia. Her baby was growing up. The new hair color was a sign of rebellion – and yet she had offered her this gift of time today. Lauren didn’t know what to say, because something like I love you, sweetie pie was not cool enough for teenage ears.
‘Sure thing!’ Mia gave her a lopsided grin and shrugged her lanky shoulders. She seemed a little self-conscious and chewed on her dirty fingernails. ‘Mom, I have a question . . .’ she muttered when Lauren was already up on her feet again, dusting off her jeans, and starting to collect the garden tools. ‘ . . . How long do you think you’re going to feel fine?’
Lauren bent down to pick up the rake and, wearily, supported herself against it.
‘I don’t know. That’s the honest truth, Mia. I have no idea. Why do you want to know?’
She held out her hand to help Mia get up from the grass, too, but her daughter shook her head. And so Lauren sat back down again.
‘Seth says he finds it hard to imagine. I mean . . . how you’re going to be when . . . when the cancer . . .’
She didn’t dare to look at her mom. Lauren preferred not to think about what was yet to come, but she would rather face that than accept Mia painting nightmare scenarios in her head.
‘Seth? You’ve been spending a lot of time with this Seth guy.’
Lauren realized that she was using that worried-mom tone of voice again, when she should be glad that Mia had come to her to openly talk about her worries. Quickly, before her daughter could fly off the handle again, she reached for her hand.
‘Sorry! I . . . didn’t mean to change the subject. So . . . you want to know what this illness is going to do to me?’
Mia was squirming and again nervously biting her nails.
‘Dunno. It’s not like I imagine you turning into a zombie mom or anything, but . . . but, I mean, it’s happening in the brain, and . . . and when your brain is broken . . .’
‘Mia, I promise I will try not to turn into a zombie mom, OK? It’s hard to tell how the illness is going to play out. Everybody’s different – it really depends on which regions in the brain are affected. It can cause changes in your personality, lead to speech impairment, affect your motor skills and make you have blackouts. Horrible muscle cramps, too . . .’ Lauren knew how awful this must all sound to Mia, but she didn’t want to lie to her. Didn’t want to raise false hopes and wanted to prepare her at least to some degree for what was to come.
‘And what happens then?’ The question came in barely more than a whisper, and Mia’s eyes were full of fear. Lauren didn’t want to stress out her daughter too much. Even though she knew that Mia was referring to death and dying and to whatever would come before then, she pretended she didn’t understand the question.
‘And then your dad will be there for you. You don’t need to be scared. You and your sister will be fine.’ She was anticipating that her firstborn would talk back, and so she quickly continued. ‘But I need you to promise me something, Mia. Can you do that for me?’
Her daughter’s eyes were big and looked even more lost behind the black strands of hair falling across her face. Her lips trembled like they used to do when she was crying as a baby.
‘What?’
‘You have to promise me that you’re going to take good care of the flowers we planted today. Because it meant so much to me to plant them with you.’
Mia wiped over her eyes with the back of her hand. As always, she was acting tougher than she was and didn’t want anyone to know she was crying. Not even her mom.
‘Sure. Promise. Was going to do that anyway.’
* * *
A giggle went through the group, and even Lauren couldn’t help but smile. It was nice that, in spite of the dreary topic on this blue summer night, they still had it in them to laugh.
‘Zombie – yeah, that was the right word for it, I guess. Maybe I wouldn’t have chosen that specific word but, really, it reflected how I felt. I was never planning on becoming a zombie.’
‘Oh, Mom! That’s not how I meant it!’ Mia scrambled to explain herself, but Lauren laughed it off.
‘I know, sweetie! I know. I don’t hold it against you. In fact, you’re the zombie in this scenario, wearing those black clothes all the time. And you look so pretty in little colorful tops.’
In Sickness and in Health
‘You’re not getting rid of me now.’
With that, Tim came home from work one night, put his briefcase in the closet, and took Lauren into his arms.
‘I took an indefinite leave of absence from the firm,’ he explained, giving her a mischievous wink. ‘It can be an advantage sometimes, being married to the boss’s daughter.’ His unyielding arms gave Lauren an idea of how much their remaining time together meant to him.
‘What? You took a vacation?’ Lauren asked, surprised, and tilted her head back so she could look him in the eye. ‘Why?’
‘Well, that’s a silly question. I want to be with you. Always! Share every minute, every breath, every heartbeat with you, because I’m left with the difficult task of having to spend the rest of my life without you. I have no idea how I’m going to cope . . .’
Lauren laughed even though it hurt. Sure, he had the harder job awaiting him! Wait, maybe he was on to something . . .
‘So you’re trying to make it easier by giving yourself an overdose?’
‘An overdose of Lauren? That’s impossible, and you know it. That would mean that I could ever get too much of you – which can’t be done. It’s never going to be too much, honey.’ He kissed her, in a way he hadn’t kissed her in a long time. Hungry and desperate, but without the pain and the fear that had been their constant companion during these past few months.
It was almost as if the finality of her cancer had taken away some of the unease and uncertainty they were both carrying on their shoulders. The What if scenario was all played out. They no longer needed to fear the worst
case, because it had already occurred.
Tim’s kiss was a request, a pleading, a wish and a gift all rolled into one, and Lauren was yearning for the kind of love they had before. Free of guilt, of fear, and of thinking about the end.
She submitted to his kiss the same way she had at her birthday party so many years ago. And she knew, come what might, that she would celebrate each and every day and not regret a single thing.
Later on, Tim was holding Lauren from behind, tightly wrapped around her, and she snuggled into the crook of his arm. She hoped that the kids were asleep, because their clothes were all over the living room floor. Fortunately, the sofa was wide enough for both of them, because Lauren wasn’t planning on getting up anytime soon. She was about to pull the blanket over her shoulder when Tim stopped her, breathing a kiss against her neck and shoulder, and tenderly tucking her up.
‘So, what do you want to do now, Lauren?’ he asked and, for the first time since they had learned about her prognosis, he seemed to have a handle on his feelings. Which was a good thing, because they really needed to make a plan. Even if they’d never been very good at doing that.
Lauren turned over on her back and looked into his blue eyes. She was grateful for the warmth emanating from Tim’s body. Having lost all this weight due to her illness, she was now constantly freezing. It almost seemed ridiculous that she had been trying to lose those extra pounds all these years.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said, and her eyes were fixed on the tiny scar on his lip. ‘I don’t want to turn into a zombie.’
She giggled when she noticed the surprise on his face, and continued to explain:
‘Don’t worry, I haven’t lost my marbles yet. But when I think back to how I collapsed the other day, I am extremely scared of what is to come. Scared to lose control.’
‘You’re a control freak, Lauren. I understand what you’re saying. You are used to making your own decisions and having things your way.’
‘I just can’t picture myself not knowing what I’m doing, falling from one seizure into the next, and in-between having your name or the kids’ names completely slip my mind. That . . . that would be worse than death.’