“Oh no, you are kidding, correct?” She fell back on the bed, but she was giggling.
“No, I’m not kidding. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Come here, woman.”
Sunday was another beautiful, hot August day. Before lunch, Harley excused herself taking her phone to walk on the beach and make those calls, to her mother first.
“It’s the last thing I ever thought would happen to you!” Maryanne cried. “You have always been the most health conscious of us all.”
“Well, evidently that doesn’t make much difference,” Harley said. “I’ve been reading about it and there are a bunch of factors besides lifestyle. I might have been exposed to something at the hospital; it might be congenital. They just don’t know.” They talked about the events that led up to the diagnosis, how Andy had driven two hours just to tell her in person.
“Boy, that is a rare find in a doctor,” Maryanne said, blowing her nose.
Harley sighed. “I don’t know if it’s going to be more helpful, or hurt more. There might be something to be said about an impersonal encounter with a physician. Plus, he’s Jason friend. I feel like he might be more worried about Jason right now.”
“Can I do anything for you?”
“Not yet, Mom, but thank you. I’ll call you after I talk to the oncologist. I’m going to call Melissa and Kelly now and tell them together, so if they call you first, mums the word!” They professed their love for each other and said goodbye.
Telling the sisters was worse because Harley could be herself with them and once she began to cry, all the uncertainties she had about not surviving cancer found their voice. As she feared, once she started to dwell on that, she couldn’t seem to pull herself out of it. Finally, her sister Melissa got her to calm down, telling her that she didn’t really have any facts yet, everything she’d read online, even from respected sources had a contradictory response somewhere else.
“We’ll deal with this,” Kelly said. “You aren’t going to be alone.”
“I’m worried about Jason and the girls,” Harley cried. “I don’t care about myself, I swear I don’t. Just the thought of leaving them to fend for themselves is terrifying me.”
“Jason can be trusted,” Kelly reminded her.
“She’s right, Harl. Concentrate on your healing now, instead of the unknown,” Melissa encouraged. “It’s understandable that you’re frightened. Just take one day at a time. Looking into the future is too unsettling. You don’t know yet what is going to happen. The world could end tomorrow. Or they could find a cure for breast cancer. Every day you live brings you closer to that reality.”
The sisters were able to do for her what she’d been unable to do for herself. She took a deep breath after they told her they loved her and each other and hung up from the call. Now that she’d told all the important people in her life the news, she could focus on the here and now. Aware of her surroundings, a deep sense of peace overcame Harley. She loved being at the shore.
This was not the beach of multi-million dollar mansions. Remnants of ancient pilings peeked from the surface during low tide. Ghosts of fishermen long past fished off piers lost during hurricanes of old. Their cove was lined with scrubby trees and wild roses. A tide pool shimmered with small fishes, their wiggling bodies reflecting the sun. They'd live trapped in the landlocked space until the next high tide. A reflection in the sand caught her eye and she squatted down to retrieve it. Wiping off grit with her thumbs, it was a worn medal of Saint Anne, patron saint of mothers. Next to Jason, her four daughters meant more to her than anything, an honor to be their mother, giving her life meaning and purpose, yet would cause the most anguish.
Holding the medal in the palm of her hand, she looked up at the ocean. Calm that day, it wasn’t uncommon for the slightest weather occurrence to send gigantic waves crashing to shore, tearing at the delicate sand dunes, chipping away at the houses along the water; a metaphor for her life. That stunning environment, gave her a renewed strength. Life hung in a delicate balance, but she never understood until that moment how much control she had of one aspect. She might not be in a position to regulate what happens next, but her mental response to it was huge.
Already sensing her husband was going to be a problem if she let him, she put herself in his shoes. What if Jason was the one with cancer? Thank God, he wasn’t, but if it were Jason instead of her, she couldn’t imagine how hysterical she’d be, the nurse in her orchestrating his every move, watching his diet and bowel movements like she would an infant’s. He wouldn’t do that to her, but what he could control – her interaction with the physicians he knew, the information given to friends and family – those powers he’d utilize with a vengeance.
Taking a deep breath, she smiled; it was something Jason would tell her to do. Making the decision then and there, she wasn’t going to try to micromanage the information that was coming and going. If Jason needed to be in charge of her medical care, she’d let him. Resisting his help was pride, something she’d picked up along the way with women’s rights and independence, things she knew were important. There was a time to lean on a husband and she thought she might have just discovered when it was.
Thinking of Maryanne, she continued to support the family after her husband returned home from the war, injured. While she went out everyday and worked, he was home in a wheelchair, her strength subtly permeating everything. The children never felt the dysfunction of a household in which an injured war veteran lived, largely because their mother respected him, and he continued to make his own decisions. She supported him in all ways, and he was still the father and husband. A common phrase heard was check with your father. He’d be lying in his hospital bed in the middle of the living room and Melissa asked if she could go to the beach with a friend’s family. “Ask Dad,” Maryanne would say.
Right before he died, she still acquiesced to him, and insisted the girls did, too, even though they were grown. Harley asked herself; what was a marriage? Where did the boundaries of each person begin and end? She and Jason had definite roles in their marriage, but they were shifting. She wondered if underestimating the power her diagnosis had over her was the cause of her craziness.
Approaching the campground, the view made her want to drop to her knees and give thanks. The cottage was a straight shot to the beach, the smell of salt water and the sounds of waves reached their bedroom window. Blue water was visible between the trees from her favorite lounging spot. The girls, her beautiful daughters, were sitting around a picnic table with fabric and needles and thread, learning to piece quilts from Bea. Bea, her best friend since childhood, was also a member of her family, dependable and faithful. The smells of something delicious cooking, probably a hunk of meat slow roasting on the grill reached her nose. It was Sunday, after all, and Sunday was a day for roast, even in August.
“What do I smell?” she called, sticking the medal in her pocket. Bennie looked up, threw her sewing on the table, and leaped over the bench.
“Mom, where were you?” Running up to Harley, she hugged her gently, being extra careful on the right side.
“I had to tell Granny Maryanne about this,” pointing to her breast. “And then the aunts.”
“How’d they take it?” Harley felt she had ally in her daughter. Bennie was growing up too fast.
“About like you’d expect. The aunts are going to be okay.”
“Are we going to Delaware next weekend?” Harley nodded.
“I hope so. I miss my mom,” she said, smiling at her daughter. “I am so sorry you girls have to go through this with me. I couldn’t see any other way around it. In the old days, they didn’t tell the kids, so it was a big secret and the dysfunction surrounding it must have been horrible, the comings and goings from the hospital, whispering. I don’t want that for my girls.”
“We’d know if there was a problem,” she replied, haughty but smiling. “Believe it or not, Angie said ‘They’re up to something,’ when you guys left in the morning yesterday. You coul
d have told us.”
“I think we did the right thing by waiting. We’d have had to tell you Friday night, which would mean no one would get any sleep. I was already up all night the night before, researching on the computer. I needed my sleep. It was better this way. If we’d found out sooner, we’d have told you.”
“I love you, Mom. I’m so upset,” Bennie said, leaning in carefully for another hug.
“I know,” Harley said, hugging her back. “Let’s just take it one day at a time. You girls should be at the beach.”
“Daddy’s already talking about leaving,” she said, resigned. “He wants to miss traffic.”
“I’ll ask Granny Fran and Pop if you can stay and come home with them.”
“No, I want to be with you,” Bennie said, ending the discussion. They walked to the picnic table together, as Jason came out with their bags.
“I’m loading up,” he said, putting the bags in the back of the car. “I couldn’t find you.”
“I told you I was going to call my mother,” Harley said, noting he was in a snit, the less said, the better. Everyone was under stress. Going back inside to gather her belongings, the girls followed her, finished with their sewing class.
“I guess we’re headed home,” Angie whispered. “It’s probably for the best.”
“Thank you for being so grown-up about all of this,” Harley said with her arm around her. “I can’t imagine going through what we are about to go through with kids who were acting out.”
“It might still happen,” Angie said. “I was feeling the urge to have a drink last night after everyone went to bed.”
“Me, too,” Harley said. “But I didn’t want the headache when I got up today.” Angie got her bag, taking it to the car.
Harley packed hers and went to relieve Fran of Devon duties. “She’s got a million questions today, don’t you Devi.” She nodded her head.
“Am I going to school next month?” Harley looked at her little human being, and giggled.
“I guess if you want to, you can. Why?”
“Everyone’s going to school and I want to go, too.”
“Okay, we’ll see what we can do.”
“If Devi goes to school, what will I do all day?” Fran said, winking at Harley. “All my big girls will be in school.”
Harley suddenly saw the wisdom of sending Devon off to preschool, just in case. It was a scary proposition to think there was a chance Jason would have to find a school and do the introduction on his own. But it was a possibility. As much as she didn’t want to live in the future, Harley realized at that moment that she had a lot of work to do in the coming days to make sure her girls’ needs were taken care of if anything should happen to her.
Chapter 5
The oncologist’s office called Harley early Monday morning.
“This is Fern at Liberty Oncology. Doctor Forman called and asked that we see you right away. Dr. Michaels would like you to have a scan first. Can you come in at ten this morning?”
Just in case they could see her on Monday, she’d prepared by taking a sick day from the hundreds of hours she’d accumulated. If anything qualified as a sick day, this was it. Then as luck would have it, Fran had come down with a stomach virus in the night, probably from nerves. Angie was more than able to babysit for Devon, and she’d offered to that morning, but Harley knew she’d be too nervous leaving her home, so Devon came along.
Now, alone in the store after Melissa took Devon home with her, Harley was fighting self-pity and anger. Guilt was trying to creep in when the thought why me fluttered through her brain. She was a worker, independent and self-reliant. Now this. Taking that proverbial deep breath, she knew she was reacting and wanted to stop, wanted to have people look at her and say, “How does she do it? Harley’s amazing, battling breast cancer with all those kids and never feels sorry for herself.” Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the car window while she loaded the groceries, her face looked pinched and miserable. Maybe the prune-faced women she criticized were miserable because they dealt with seemingly insurmountable odds. Trying to smile at herself and failing, she just wanted to get home and cry.
❋
By Friday, all the testing completed, she was having chemotherapy for the first time. Jason begged to tag along, but she insisted he go to work. “I’ll need you with me later,” she said, blocking out what later could mean. “Save your sick days.”
Feeling ungrateful but not able to help it, she didn’t want him hovering over her or watching every move the nurses made, rationalizing it was more a kindness for him not to let him go along.
The next weeks were spent doing the usual lets get ready for school drill, with Harley needs to prepare for the worst lingering in the back of her mind. The day after her first chemotherapy treatment, she felt tired and mildly nauseous. Not up to fighting the back to school shopping crowds, it was a good time to clean out drawers and closet, throw away several journals she started and wouldn’t want anyone to read, separating her belongings so it would be easier for Jason to dispose of her stuff if she died.
Realizing it might be premature, she separated the items she valued; favorite books, a gift of rune stones from Bea, mementos from childhood and other treasures into four large see through plastic boxes. On the lids in Sharpie pen, she wrote Things for the Bennie, Things for Angie and so on. If her situation became dire, there’d be no fighting over her junk.
Slowly feeling better, she raced getting everything ready for the first day of school, spending a full paycheck on additional socks, underwear, bras and pajamas just in case, stocking the girls’ bathroom with extra sanitary products and deodorant, Bennie’s special shampoo, all the things they looked to her to provide.
Waiting until the week of surgery, she told her co-worker friends about the upcoming mastectomy so when they saw her on the OR schedule Friday morning they weren’t shocked or angry she’d hid it from them. The usual outpouring of concern and kindness made her feel worse. It was almost better if they’d ignored her. She couldn’t help noticing the outpouring of concern her husband was getting from female employees.
It was during those hectic days before the surgery that Harley questioned her chances of survival. Instead of dwelling on what she thought might be inevitable, she set her sights on planning for the family’s wellbeing if she died. Doing so made her feel proactive, giving her a sense of relief. The only thing she worried about was leaving Jason and the girls.
After reading more about her type of cancer, she’d do what she could to try to beat it, but she wouldn’t try experimental drugs or procedures that never seemed to work. Mastectomy, chemo, radiation; that was it, she wouldn’t waste her precious time. Hopefully, it would work and she’d be cured. Then the next morning, having a change of mind during a sleepless night, she’d wake up determined to try whatever they offered her, no matter the consequences. If she could buy extra time with her family, it would be worth it. The cycle of hope/despair was exhausting.
The part of the process, which was most difficult was how it was affecting her relationship with Jason. During the few hours each day they were together, if he wasn’t crying, he was in a snit. It was clear the man was on the brink of having a breakdown of some kind but didn’t have the time to do so, manifesting itself in a distance between them that hadn’t been there before.
The coup de grace took place on the Thursday morning before surgery. They got up for work as usual, Harley showered first while Jason took his time getting out of bed. He stood at the sink shaving when she came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her head.
“Good morning,” she said moving to the closet. He grunted an answer, finished shaving and got into the shower. It would have been an ordinary day except for what Harley left behind. Jason didn’t get it at first, thinking what he was seeing was an optical illusion of soap residue on beige tile, he wiped his eyes and got closer to look, running his hands over the mirage. It was Harley’s red hair, a whole lock of it. Looking at t
he drain, he was standing in an inch of water. He bent down and pulled out a wad of her hair that had clogged the drain.
“Oh, Harley,” he whispered. Finishing his shower, he cleaned up the handful of hair and wrapped it in toilet paper before throwing it in the trash can so she wouldn’t see it. She must know, but wasn’t saying anything to him about it. Was she trying to protect him? Or didn’t she realize it yet? It was only three weeks since she started chemotherapy. Was that a long enough time for her hair to start falling out? Wrapping himself in a towel, he went back out to the bedroom where Harley was making the bed. Her hair was still up in a towel.
He watched her run her hands over her pillowcase, gathering hair. “Is everything okay?” he asked.
Taking a deep breath, she sighed. “No, no it really isn’t. My hair’s falling out. I know it’s not a big deal,” she said. “But for some reason I was hoping it wouldn’t happen until after the surgery so I wouldn’t have to recover from losing a breast and my hair at the same time.”
Plunking down at the edge of the bed in despair, her face in her hands, she began to cry. Harley was tough and this was out of character for her. Taken aback, Jason didn’t know what to say that wasn’t condescending. He sat down and hugged her.
“I’m sorry about your hair,” he said. “It’ll grow back. I know you don’t want to hear that. Maybe I need to hear it. My wife won’t be a bald eagle forever.” Harley laughed and pushed him away.
“My breast won’t grow back. And cancer is spreading through my body. I don’t want to die and leave you and my four girls alone. Gosh, I never thought I would say this, but I’ll do just about anything not to die.”
Jason bit his tongue, on the verge of saying You’re not going to die. Why are you so fatalistic? This is just a bump in the road for us. You’re making more out of it than you should be. He realized that was what he wanted to hear. So he hugged her again and kissed her cheek.
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