Dying Wish

by Margaret McHeyzer

  After another drawn-out moment, she looks up from her notes. The look in her eyes tells me the news isn’t good. The fake gentleness confirms it.

  “I have epilepsy, right?”

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Mom says as she links our fingers together.

  Dad’s strong arms come around my shoulders and he holds me tightly. I can feel him shaking, like he’s waiting for the worst news of his life to be delivered.

  I hold my breath. Not because I want to, but because I’m waiting for confirmation of a career-ending condition.

  “I don’t know,” the doctor finally says. “I want to send you for an MRI to help us determine what this is.”

  “What’s that?” I ask and look to my parents, then the doctor. I hear Mom gasp, and I feel Dad’s trembling increase. The temperature of the room feels like it’s dropped by thirty degrees. “What’s that?” I ask again as I look around.

  Do they know something and they’re not telling me?

  “The technical name for it is magnetic resonance imaging. You may have seen it in movies. It’s a large circle which we slide you into, and you have to be very still while it takes pictures of your body.”

  That doesn’t sound too bad. “My body?” I ask and turn to look at Mom who’s got tears welling in her eyes. “What aren’t you telling me? Why does my Mom look like she’s about to burst into tears?”

  “The MRI looks inside your body, and it’ll show us anything that shouldn’t be there. Because you have pins and needles in your toe, I want to check your spine and make sure everything’s okay with it.”

  Mom pulls back her shoulders and lifts her chin. “When can we get it done?”

  I listen as they talk and decide the MRI will be done as soon as possible. The doctor tells me because she wants my entire body scanned, it may take up to ninety minutes to perform the test; and during that time, I’ll have to stay very still. She also told me the machine is loud, and I’ll have to wear ear plugs because the time frame is extended.

  The doctor leaves the room to arrange for the test, and the same nurse comes in to tell us the MRI is scheduled for first thing in the morning. She asks my parents to go out to sign some papers and provide information about our medical insurance. I cringe, because I hate to think how much this MRI is going to cost them.

  I know it’s not going to be cheap, and I feel guilty for putting them in this position. Maybe I can give dance up to help them out, if they have to pay for this then I should do the right thing and give dance up for a while. I make a mental note to talk to them about it later. Right now, we’re all high with emotion and stress.

  When my parents return, they keep looking at each other. I’m sure they’re keeping a secret from me, and I hate it. “What aren’t you telling me?” I ask them both.

  Dad’s now slumped in the chair in the room, and Mom’s still sitting on my bed. “We’re worried, that’s all,” Mom says as she leans over and gives me a kiss.

  “It’s frightening to us, Alice.” Dad runs his hand through his hair, and takes a few deep breaths. “You’re our beautiful girl, and to see you like this breaks our hearts.” Dad points to Mom and then himself. “We’re worried. But hopefully this MRI scan will show them exactly why you had the seizure. We just want an answer so we can get you the right treatment, and back to normal. And if it turns out to be epilepsy, well then we’ll address that too. It may mean you have to cut back on the dancing.”

  Is now the right time to tell them I’m going to stop ballet so they can pay for the MRI? No, not yet. I’ll wait until everyone’s in a better mood.

  “I swear you’ll do anything to get attention,” Becky teases when she and Elijah come into the room.

  Elijah is holding a bunch of flowers which look quite sorry in their droopy state, but at least he’s made an effort. And Becky has a Hershey’s candy bar in her hand.

  “Is that for me?” I eye the candy bar.

  “No, it’s for me. But these are for you.” Becky snatches the flowers out of Elijah’s hands and holds them out to me.

  “Hey,” Elijah protests and rolls his eyes. “I got them for Alice, not you.”

  “Whatever, suck it up,” Becky bites back. This causes me to laugh as they’re both so relaxed around each other.

  I hear Mom laugh from the other side of the room where she and Dad are sitting together. “Sweetheart,” she says as she stands and stretches. Dad grabs her hand and links their fingers. “We’re going to go down to the cafeteria to get some coffee. Do you want anything?” Mom asks.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Mom looks to Elijah and Becky, then back to me. “We’ll be about an hour.” In other words, she’s telling them to take their time and not rush. “See you, kids.”

  “Bye,” Elijah and Becky echo together as my parents leave the room.

  Elijah’s still by the door, and his eyes keep rolling over me as I lay in the bed. I sit up and cross my legs, then pat the bed so they can sit. Becky plonks her behind on the bed, but Elijah stays away from me.

  “So what happened?” Becky finally asks, breaking the uncomfortable stillness.

  “I had a seizure.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I notice Elijah flinch, and step back. I wonder what that’s about.

  Becky closes her eyes and lifts her hand to scratch her head, then rakes her palm over her face and lets out a deep sigh. “I don’t get it, Alley-cat. You’ve never had a seizure before, why now? Has something happened? I mean, why have a seizure now and never one before?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “They think I may have epilepsy,” I answer. “I have to have an MRI scan.”

  “Is that the big tubular machine?” Elijah asks softly from over by the door.

  “Yeah, they want to see if there’s anything going on. The doctor is really nice. She came in and was asking me a ton of questions. And she said they won’t know what it is until I have this MRI scan.”

  “When is it?” Becky asks.

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  “You scared?” she asks.

  I shake my head, and my lips turn down in a frown. “I’m not scared, but I also don’t want them to tell me I have epilepsy. Because that means I’ll have to cut back on dance. But I’m going to have to cut back on dance anyway,” I sigh and droop my shoulders.

  “Why?” Elijah asks.

  “I can only imagine how much this is going to cost my parents. I can’t ask them to pay dance fees too. It’s not fair to them. It’s okay. I’ll talk to Miss Lauren about dancing less, and see if I can maybe teach or something to pay for my lessons. I don’t know.” I shrug again. “I’ve gotta do something to help Mom and Dad out.”

  “The thing you can do to help them, is to get better.” Elijah steps forward and toward the bed.

  I look up at him, and his face is etched with worry. I notice the dark circles under his eyes, and how tired he looks. I want to say something, but with Becky here I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.

  “I need a drink,” Becky says as she stands from the corner of the bed. “I’ll go get some water, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She pointedly looks at me, and I know she’s only doing this to give Elijah and me some time alone together.

  Elijah’s still standing over near the door, he’s got his hands shoved in his pockets and he’s looking down at his feet. Damn it, is he avoiding me? “Elijah,” I whisper in a small voice. I can’t take the coldness in the room. It’s too much for me. “You can go too if you want.” I’m giving him a way out, to leave before this gets any harder. If I have epilepsy, then that’s something I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life.

  He lifts his head and scrunches his brows together. “I’m not going anywhere,” he announces.

  “Then why are you acting like I’m a leper? I’m not contagious.”

  His shoulders slump and he looks back down at the floor. “Because I’m worried about you,” he says while still avoiding my gaze.

  He’s
worried about me? My stare swings to the left of him, and I keep my eyes transfixed on the extra chair in the room. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  There are a few seconds of intense quiet in the room. Every fiber of my body is on super high alert. I want him to walk over and hug me, to touch me and tell me he’s not freaking out. “It’s not a choice, Alice. The moment Becky called me yesterday and told me you were in the hospital, all I could do was worry. I wanted to come here right away, but your Mom told Becky it was best to wait and come today. And every minute since then all I’ve done is worry, for you.”

  My heart jumps a beat, and I feel the weight of his words. “I don’t know what to say.”

  He takes his phone out of his pocket, and slowly drifts closer to the bed. “They think it could be epilepsy?” he asks. I nod my head, but my eyes stay on him. When he reaches the bed, he half sits on the end.

  “I’m going for the MRI tomorrow morning. I’m going to do some research on epilepsy when I get home so I know what it is, how to recognize the signs of a seizure coming on.” His head is down and he’s still thumbing through his phone. I’m kinda hurt that he’s here with me but he finds his phone more interesting. “I hope I can go home after the MRI.” He nods his head again. “And then maybe I can get on with life, and not stress so much.” He nods. Ugh. This is making me so angry. “Have you got something better to do, Elijah? Maybe you’re setting up a date or something?” I snap at him.

  Elijah looks up from his phone with raised eyebrows. “It says an MRI can take up to two hours to do. It also says sometimes they need to inject you with dye to see inside. Did they mention that to you?”

  My face drops, I’m so ashamed of myself. He was looking up what happens during an MRI, not chatting some chick up to go on a date with her.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, owning my outburst.

  Elijah smiles at me, stands and gives me a small kiss on the cheek. “It’s okay.” He sits back down and winks.

  I automatically thought he was doing something wrong, getting ready to quickly replace me with someone who’s . . . healthy. That saddened me, to think he was capable of that, but as it turns out, it’s me being stupid and having no confidence in him, or myself.

  Elijah keeps reading what he can on both the MRI and on epilepsy. He’s reading aloud and as he continues, my eyelids grow heavier and heavier. Before I know it, the steady, deep rhythmic tone of his voice has sent me off to the land of sleep.

  The sound of something scraping makes my eyes flutter open. When I look around the room, I notice I’m bathed in darkness. “Where is everyone?” I ask not knowing who’s here and who’s left.

  “Your Mom went home to sleep, and Becky and Elijah left some time ago,” Dad responds.

  Blinking a few times, I maneuver so I’m on my back. “You should go home too, Dad. Don’t you have work in the morning?”

  “I’m taking the day off.” He grabs the back of the chair lifting it and bringing it over beside the bed.

  When he sits, I stare at him. He looks like he’s aged years in a matter of hours. “Are you okay?”

  Dad chuckles, and takes a deep breath. “I’m fine. How are you feeling?”

  “Tired,” I honestly answer.

  “The nurse came in when you were sleeping and gave us a rundown of how the MRI works, and what you should expect.”

  “Okay. What should I expect?”

  “It’s loud. That’s the first thing. And they’re going to do a full body scan, which means it’s going to take a while. You have to remain perfectly still, and not move. If you do, it might take longer than the hour they’re expecting.”

  “An hour?” I groan. I have to stay still for an hour–ugh.

  “There are a few other things, but don’t worry about them for now. We’ll go over it in the morning. Are you hungry?” I shake my head. “How about you try and sleep then?”

  “Okay,” I say. I turn to my side and close my eyes, but I’m too stressed and worried to fall asleep. Everything keeps playing around in my mind. My life was going so well, everything was turning out better than perfect. I can’t believe this is happening to me. Why me? And why now? A tear escapes from my eye, and I swipe it away. I don’t want to let this affect me, to put me in the category of ‘can’t’ because I have epilepsy. I don’t want to alter my plans to be a ballerina, or my ability to train as hard as I do to excel in the field of dance. I don’t want to.

  I. Don’t. Want. To.

  “Are you okay, sweetheart?” Dad asks when a sob rips through me. He moves so he’s sitting on the bed, and quickly pulls me up so he can hug me. “I’m scared, Daddy.”

  He places kisses on my face and keeps holding me. “I know you’re scared. Me too. But you’re strong. You need to keep positive and know we’re here for you, and there’s no way we’ll let anything bad happen to you. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together, as a family.”

  Dad’s arms almost crush me to his body, but at the same time, he’s gentle with me. “I know. But what if I do have epilepsy? Then what? I won’t be able to dance the way I want to.”

  “Maybe not, but at least you’ll still be able to keep doing what you love. And if it is, then we educate ourselves, know everything there is to know about it, and we deal with it. One day at a time. We’ll do whatever it takes to make sure we’re all educated properly about it, so we know how to lessen the impact of any future seizures.”

  I breathe in deeply a few times, trying to calm my worried, frantic mind. “Am I going to be okay?” I ask Dad.

  His silence is concerning, the lack of response sparks more fears within me. It seems like hours before Dad replies, “No matter what, you’ll always be okay.” The delivery of his words have me worrying even more; they aren’t firm with conviction. But they are spoken with love.

  The same nurse from yesterday has prepared me for everything that’s going to happen while the MRI is being done. Today, she’s wearing a name badge, and I really think ‘Edna’ suits her. She’s such a kind lady, smiling and reassuring me about how the MRI sounds scary but actually isn’t. She made sure she explained how they’re going to strap my head down and how there’s a loud thumping noise once the machine starts.

  She was so caring and supportive, it actually eased my fears.

  Now I’m lying on the bed of the machine and I’m being given instructions over a speaker inside the tube about what they’re going to be doing. “The noise is going to start, and that’s us beginning the scan,” says a male voice.

  “Okay,” I respond.

  I close my eyes and try to relax. The machine starts, and the banging is so loud it goes through the ear plugs they gave me to wear. My pulse rate jumps and I feel every one of my muscles and nerves tense.

  Jesus, this is scarier than I thought.

  “Try to relax,” comes the voice again.

  I breathe in deeply a few times, and will myself to not freak out. You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe.

  Trying to be still is virtually impossible. Every time I remind myself not to move, I suddenly want to scratch my nose, or turn or move my leg. But I can’t. And if I do, it only means I’ll be in this machine for longer, or even worse, I’ll have to do it all over again.

  It seems like it’s been forever, but when the banging of the machine whirls down, I know the scan is over. I wait a few seconds and the bed moves out. The nurse takes the strap off my head. “Is it over?” I ask eagerly.

  “It is. And you did an excellent job, staying as still as you did,” Edna says.

  Once she unstraps me, I sit up and move my body around. I roll my shoulders and neck from side to side, just to loosen the tight muscles. My right leg has fallen asleep and I have tingling shooting all the way up. “You okay, sugar?” Edna asks when she sees me trying to wake my leg up by bouncing it on the spot while I sit on the bed.

  “My leg’s gone to sleep. Stupid pins and needles,” I huff, frustrated at the delay it’s taking to get feeling back i
n my leg.

  Edna sweetly smooths a few stray hairs off my face and smiles. “When you’re ready, we’ll head back to your room.” She rolls the wheelchair closer to me.

  “I want to walk. Is that okay?”

  She looks down to the chair, back to me and smiles. “Sure, if that’s what you want, but if you feel light-headed or anything at all, you have to tell me,” she says sternly. I nod my head, agreeing to her conditions.

  It takes us a few minutes but when I get back to my room, Mom and Dad are waiting for me. “You okay?” Dad asks as he hugs me.

  “I’m good.” I smile. “But I wouldn’t want to be claustrophobic in that machine. And it’s really loud.” I shake my head at the reminder of the banging. “I was wearing ear plugs and I could still hear it.”

  Edna slips out of the room, leaving my parents and me alone. “Doctor Monroe came in while you were having the scan and said she’ll look at the results with one of the other doctors. They’ll come to talk to us when they’re done.”

  “Today?” I ask.

  “Yes, today. Hopefully by this afternoon we’ll know what’s happening and we’ll be able to take you home,” Dad says and comes to give me a hug. “That way, we can do research and see what medicines are needed. Whatever they find, we’ll tackle it together, as a family.”

  Mom stands and walks over to Dad, wrapping her arms around both him and me.

  A sudden tiredness overtakes me. “I’m really tired. I might try and close my eyes for an hour or so,” I say.

  “Okay, darling, go to sleep.”

  The exhaustion quickly drags me into sleep. And I’m grateful the MRI wasn’t as scary as what I thought it would be.

  Now to wait for the results.

  “Wake up, Alice.” Someone nudges my shoulder to rouse me from my sleep.

  “What’s happening?” I say in a sleepy, croaky voice. “How long have I been asleep?” Opening my eyes, I see Doctor Monroe is here and she’s holding a clipboard close to her chest.