Dying Wish

by Margaret McHeyzer

  “You’ve been asleep for the last five hours,” Mom responds. “But you need to wake up now.”

  I blink a few times to clear the sleep from my eyes, and sit up in the bed. Doctor Monroe is looking at me, but the smile on her face doesn’t match what her eyes are saying. She doesn’t look like someone who’s here to give us good news.

  My stomach rolls while my body begins to tremble. I keep looking between her and the clipboard. I turn to look at my parents, who are now standing beside my bed. The eerie calmness in the room tells me something’s not right. “It’s not good, is it?” I ask as a chill ripples through me. Doctor Monroe visibly swallows, then looks down at her clipboard. Her lips purse into a straight line. A lump gathers in my throat. This is not good at all. “It’s epilepsy, right?”

  Doctor Monroe looks up at me and shakes her head. “We’ve found two masses in your body. One behind your eye, and the other at the top of your spinal column.”

  I look to Mom and Dad. Mom’s got tears in her eyes, and her hand is covering her mouth. Dad leans down and drapes his arm over my shoulders, bringing me in close to him.

  “Masses? What does that mean?” I ask. “If it’s not epilepsy then what can it be?”

  “We have to run some more tests,” Doctor Monroe says.

  “What tests?” Mom replies in a shaky voice, obviously on the edge of hysteria.

  “We have to do biopsies on both masses so we know what we’re dealing with.”

  Blankly I stare at the doctor. A biopsy? “What . . . um.” I swallow hard and try to get my brain to comprehend the words coming from her. “What exactly does that entail?” I ask. “And why is it necessary?”

  “We’ll get the oncologist to come and speak to you about this.”

  “Wait,” I say. “Oncologist?” She nods her head. “They’re doctors for people who have cancer.” She nods her head.

  And I freak the fuck out.

  My breathing increases and my body goes from a light tremble to a full-on shake. The air in my throat gets stuck, and I start hyperventilating. There’s a rush around me, Mom’s holding my hand and the doctor is flashing her light in my eyes.

  Minutes, or even hours pass before I calm down enough to let everything sink in. “I have cancer?” I ask the doctor.

  “That’s not absolutely certain. You may not. The masses may be benign, and if they are, we may be able to treat them. But we need to know for sure what we’re dealing with.”

  “Then why is it important to bring in an oncologist?” Mom asks for me.

  “Because they’re the experts on different types of masses. They know what they’re looking at and what will be needed, once we determine what types the masses are. So we let them take over from here so they can help you.”

  Swallowing the spit that has gathered in my mouth, I blink up at the doctor. “Okay,” I say. Somehow I get this gut feeling that everything will be okay. It’s right there, palpitating inside me. Something is niggling away at me, saying everything’s fine. Call it women’s intuition, or knowing my body, but I really believe I’ll be alright. They’ll do this biopsy on these masses they’ve found, and they’ll find they’re benign. I’ll be fine. “When’s the biopsy and how does it work?” I ask remaining calm.

  Doctor Monroe’s compassionate face softens and she smiles at me. “You’re a brave girl, Alice. The oncologist who’s coming in to consult with you is Doctor Wesley. He’s our best, and he’ll help you with all your questions. I’ve asked him to come by and talk to you.” She looks to me, then Mom and Dad.

  “Thank you,” Mom replies. “We appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”

  Doctor Monroe and my parents talk for a few minutes, and I tune out. What they discuss is insignificant to me. I need to concentrate on remaining strong and courageous and not freak out at the thought of someone drilling through my head to get a sample of these ‘masses.’

  When Doctor Monroe leaves, I turn to look at Mom and Dad and I can almost read the dread etched on their faces. The room is cold, icy. Not because it’s cold in here but because the mood is heavy with defeat. But I’m not ready to throw my hands up and accept this, whatever ‘this’ is.

  Although I’m ready to fight, it doesn’t mean I’m not petrified. I’m absolutely scared shitless the results will come back and the news will be bad. But somehow I know, I’m going to be okay.

  Dad pulls his shoulders back when he turns to find me watching them. He plasters a smile on his face for my benefit and says, “Whatever this is, Alice, we’re going to fight.” For the first time, his words are tinged with sorrow.

  “When is the biopsy?” I ask keeping Mom in my sight.

  “She said Doctor Wesley will come talk to us, but by the way she’s talking it’s going to be ASAP,” Dad replies.

  “Mom?”

  Mom’s blank stare drifts over to me. I can see the fear in her eyes. She smiles at me, and although she’s trying to be strong, she’s on the verge of breaking down.

  I cannot let her see me cry. I must have courage, and I have to keep it together.

  “It’s not cancer,” Mom says in a soft wistful voice. “I just know, it’s not cancer. I can feel it in my bones.” Her hand flies to her stomach, and she says the last sentence with firm conviction.

  “Can we go home now and come back tomorrow for the biopsy?” I ask.

  “We have to wait for them to tell us, but I think you’ll be staying here another night,” Mom responds. She’s starting to find her own strength, and I can almost see the resolve creeping into her body as the seconds pass.

  We all go quiet again. There’s not really much to say. All we can do is have the biopsy and wait for the results.

  Before long, the door opens and an older man with no hair on his head and a rounded belly waltzes into the room. “Alice?” he asks as he approaches the bed.

  There’s no denying the air of authority he conveys. I know right away who he is before he even says it. “Yes.” I sit up in bed and cross my legs.

  “I’m Doctor Wesley, and I’ll be performing the biopsy.” I nod once to acknowledge his words. I can tell by the age lines on his face that he’s done this many times. Seen patients, talked to them, and told them what to expect.

  “Hello,” I say.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Brackman, I’ve scheduled the biopsy for this afternoon.”

  “So soon?” I ask, nervousness hitting me right in the heart. I thought I had a night to prepare for it, to get my head in the right mindset.

  “The quicker the better,” he replies.

  Mom and Dad both walk over to him. “You’ve seen the MRI results?” Mom asks while she wraps her arms around her waist.

  “I have.” He gives nothing else away.

  “What do you think?” Mom pushes him. Dad rubs his hand on Mom’s back while the three turn to look at me.

  “I’ve seen the masses. The one behind Alice’s eye is rather large, about the size of a tennis ball, and the one at the top of her spinal column is smaller, around the size of a golf ball. The one on her eye would cause her headaches, certainly, and for her vision to be blurred or for her eye to turn out; which, as I’ve been informed, has happened. Is that right, Alice?” He looks at me and waits for an answer.

  “Yeah,” I say nodding my head.

  “The one at the top of your spinal column can cause the tingling you’ve been getting in your hands and feet.”

  Right, this all makes sense. “Why the seizure then?” I ask with curiosity.

  “Until I get the results of the biopsy, and can see precisely where the mass is sitting, I can tell you the size of the one behind your eye is substantial and could be pressing into other areas of your brain and that might have caused the seizure.”

  “Does this mean I could have another seizure?” A lump rises to my throat and I’m absolutely terrified of the answer, although I already know he’s going to say ‘yes.’

  He nods his head. “Yes, there is a likely chance you could suffer anot
her, which is why we have to undertake this biopsy so soon. This way, we can make the relevant plans to tackle the next stage.”

  “Is it cancer?” I ask the hard question I’m positive is burning on the tips of my parents’ tongues.

  “I can’t say until the biopsy results come back,” he says and smiles, though I can see the smile is rehearsed.

  “In your opinion, have you seen this before and it’s turned out to be cancer?” I ask again. I’m eager to know my fate, my destiny. Will I have to undergo chemotherapy and radiation? If so, for how long?

  “Alice, please don’t ask questions I can’t answer yet. Until the biopsy results come back, I won’t know. However, I will get a rush on the results and have them back within thirty-six hours.”

  I swallow down the hard lump of fear which is terrorizing my body. “Okay,” I answer. “I get it,” I half mumble. “If it’s not cancer though, what happens then?”

  “Again, we have to wait for the results. I’ll examine the masses to see if they can be removed or if we need to use radiation to reduce them.”

  “Okay then.” I let out a deep breath and lie back in the bed staring up at the fluorescent lights in the room.

  Doctor Wesley keeps talking, and just like with Doctor Monroe, I tune out. He’s told me what I need to know. The next two days will determine my fate. I either have cancer and I’ll have to go through chemo and radiation, and possibly surgery. Or I don’t have cancer and the mass will need to be shrunken or removed.

  When Doctor Wesley leaves, Mom and Dad try talking to me about the biopsy. It’s not that I don’t want to talk to them, I just don’t think I can without breaking down and crying.

  My phone vibrates and I lean over to grab it from the side table in the room. I swipe at the screen and see I have a message from Becky.

  Hey, Alley-cat. What happened? When do you get your results for the MRI?

  I type back;

  Got the results already. Have two masses. One behind my eye and one at the top of my spine. Going in to have a biopsy in a few hours.

  Almost immediately she responds with;

  Holy shit. I’ll get Elijah to bring me over. I want to be there with you.

  I don’t want them here. I can’t have the pressure of knowing they’re here waiting for me. I just can’t.

  Please, don’t.

  Becky goes quiet for a minute, but when my phone rings with Elijah’s handsome face smiling up at me, I know she’s gone into overdrive and has enlisted the help of my boyfriend to convince me otherwise. Mom and Dad look at my phone, and both move to sit on the opposite side of the room. “Hello,” I answer the call.

  “I just got off the phone to Becky. You’ve already got the scan results and they found two masses? I’m going to pick Becky up and we’re coming to you.” His voice is flustered and agitated.

  In the background, I can hear several things rustling, as if he’s getting changed out of his work clothes and into something else. “Elijah,” I say trying to calm him down. “Can you guys please do me a favor and not come tonight? The oncologist came in and said the . . .”

  I don’t get even get a chance to finish the sentence when he gasps and almost yells, “Oncologist? What the hell? I thought it was epilepsy, not cancer.”

  I breathe out deeply and run my free hand over my face and then through my hair. “It may not be cancer, but he’s scheduled the biopsy for a couple of hours from now to rule that in or out.”

  “I should be there.” He pauses, then after a few seconds he adds, “Becky and I should both be there.”

  “Please, I can’t have you guys here.”

  “Why?” he pushes.

  “I can’t explain it, Elijah. I just need this time to wrap my head around everything and to get myself ready.”

  “We can help you do that.”

  “No, you can’t. Please, I don’t want to . . .” I stop and look up at my parents who are both staring at me. I can’t tell him I don’t want to worry about him and Becky the way I’m worrying about my Mom and Dad. Can’t he just listen to what I’m trying to say? “Please,” I finally beg. “Can I have tonight? Please?”

  I hear his breathing change in speed, and I can imagine him pacing back and forth, stressing. “Alice,” he says.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m really worried,” his voice hitches in his throat when he says ‘worried.’

  “Have courage for me, Elijah.”

  “Fuck,” he mumbles. It takes him a few seconds but he finally agrees to not come to the hospital tonight. “But I’m seeing you tomorrow,” he says, almost stamping his foot with finality.

  I can’t help but chuckle at him. “As long as I’m okay, then yeah, that’s cool.” A nurse comes in and every hair on my body stands to attention. “I have to go. The nurse is here.”

  “Okay. Call me when you can.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  When we hang up, I notice the nurse standing by my bed, waiting to talk to me. She’s a younger nurse than Edna, with flawless, mocha-colored skin, and the biggest, most hypnotic eyes I’ve ever seen.

  “Hello, Alice. I’m Jolene and I’ll be with you for every step of the biopsy. Has Doctor Wesley explained what’s going to happen? The procedure?”

  I nod my head.

  “Okay, I’ll be back in about two hours to get you and we’ll head down to surgery.” She goes on to ask if I’ve eaten because apparently, they can’t do the surgery if I have. Considering I’ve gone off food, I shake my head. She also tells me what’s going to happen step by step. And what to expect when I wake up from surgery.

  When she leaves, I’m left yet again in an icy room with my parents. But this time, their demeanor is different. They’re more positive.

  “I have a good feeling about this, Alice,” Dad says.

  “So do I,” Mom adds.

  I get up out of bed and walk over to my parents. I sit on Dad’s lap and give him a hug, then drag Mom in for all of us to be with each other.

  “We’re going to be fine.” I say.

  Mom and Dad both kiss and hug me. I can feel it in their bodies. They’re worried and panicked but they’ve pulled themselves together and are showing a strong and united front. It eases me to know they’ve got my back, as they always have had, and this is a sign of their love and commitment to me.

  God, I love them so much. I don’t want to hurt them. I don’t want them to cry because of me.

  I’m going to fight with everything I have inside me. I will survive this.

  I stay on Dad’s lap for a long time. We don’t talk. We don’t need to. We have everything we need in this one moment. We have love.

  And we have each other.

  Mom, Dad, and I are sitting in Doctor Wesley’s office. He called yesterday afternoon, two days after doing the biopsy and said he wanted to see us.

  Last night I barely slept. Actually, I don’t think any of us slept. Elijah and Becky wanted to come over, but I wasn’t in the mood for company. Instead I told them I was tired and wanted to go to bed early. That didn’t happen. I tossed and turned all night, and I could hear Mom and Dad out in the family room talking about the impending appointment with Doctor Wesley.

  Now we’re sitting in his office, and waiting for him to come in from talking to his receptionist. The air crackles with nerves. Mom and Dad are fidgeting in their seats and I’m sitting on my hands, anxiously looking at his great big desk.

  Even his desk is dominating and grand. It’s made from heavy, dark wood, and has the basics on its surface. He looks like a man who’s in control, and judging by the order on his desk, that control carries over to everything he does.

  He walks into the room, and closes the door. Mom and Dad flinch when the door clicks. I keep my eyes forward. I don’t want to look at him, I don’t want to hear what the results are.

  My heartbeat quickens, while my mouth goes totally dry. Although I’m sitting on my hands, I can feel them sweating through my shorts. Worse still, I can also feel
them trembling. A shiver runs up my spine and the hairs on my arms stand to attention.

  He sits in his grand, black leather chair behind his impressive, heavy wooden desk and looks down for a split second before his eyes find mine.

  “There’s no good way for me to tell you this.”

  His words echo in the stark office.

  My heart skips, then beats frantically against my chest.

  Mom leaps up out of her seat and kneels beside me, wrapping me in her arms. Her tears are hot and her crying is loud. Her breathing is labored and erratic.

  I’m numb.

  “There’s no good way for me to tell you this.” Those words repeat in my head.

  I have a boulder sitting on my chest. It’s beyond heavy, and it’s massively draining. The doctor is talking, but I can’t hear anything. I look over to Dad who’s sitting in his chair with a vacant expression on his face. He’s blinking forward, his mouth is open but his shoulders are slumped. It’s the only indication I’m getting that he’s actually heard Doctor Wesley.

  “Mom,” I say after a moment.

  She moves away from me, leans over and peppers kisses all over my face. “We’re going to fight. You’re going to fight. We’re going to do everything we can. You hear me, Alice? Everything. We’re going to beat this thing and we’re going to win.” She holds my face between her hands, and kisses me again. “It’s not going to win.” Her eyes are steely, confident. I gather the weakest smile known to man and offer it to Mom.

  Minutes pass before Mom sits back down beside Dad. She pulls her shoulders back, wipes the tears from her face with a tissue from the box sitting on Doctor Wesley’s desk and lifts her chin.

  “What do we have to do to get her better?” she asks the doctor. The way she’s speaking is like she’s ready to take the cancer on and kick its ass. She’s a woman on a mission, and she’s ready to fight with everything she has inside her.

  His eyes look back down then slowly find their way up to me. “The cancer . . .” He takes a breath. “ . . . is untreatable.”

  “Wait, what?” I ask. “What do you mean by untreatable?”