At Her Own Risk

by Rachael Duncan

  Me: Sorry. Made plans with the girls. Raincheck?

  Sean: How about dessert instead?

  Me: Aunt Flow might be in town.

  A grin spreads across my face as I tease him.

  Sean: We could do other things.

  Me: You’re relentless.

  Sean: I have to be with you. Let me know if you want me to come over to hang out. And tell Aunt Flow to take a hike!

  I bite my lip to keep it from trembling as I reread the lies I just fed him. They’re piling up, suffocating me, and I know it’ll only make things worse when I have to tell him the truth.

  With each deafening tick of the clock on the wall, I’m going more and more out of my mind waiting on the doctor to come in. Why do they do this? They know why you’re here. You’d think the least they could do is get in the room promptly.

  There’s a knock on the door and my heart stops. Now that she’s on the other side of the wall ready to come in, I want her to stay out. The longer she’s out there, the longer I can hide from my reality. The longer I can pretend this isn’t happening.

  I feel like my whole world is ending in slow motion as she walks in. “Hi, how are you?” Dr. Johnson gives me a tight smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Not like the last time I saw her.

  How the fuck do you think I am? is what I want to say, but instead I go for, “I’m okay.”

  “Good.” She looks down at her chart and lets out an exhale before taking a seat in front of me. “So the lab results came in.”

  My eyes focus on nothing but her lips, waiting for her to say the one word that will forever change my life.

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, but it is cancer.”

  Cancer.

  I stop breathing.

  I knew this was coming since I got her phone call, but it doesn’t lessen the impact of hearing it. She keeps talking, but I don’t hear a word of it. Her voice is reduced to a constant hum pinging around in the back of my mind while my heart shatters and fear drowns me.

  I will not cry.

  I will not cry.

  No matter how many times I say this in my head, my eyes still fill with tears as the image of my doctor blurs. My chin trembles and I can’t hold it in anymore. Covering my face, I break down into a sob.

  “I’m so sorry, Paige. There are treatment options.” The doctor’s words cut through my cry.

  Composing myself, I wipe my face with the tissue she hands me. “H-how bad i-is it?”

  “I’m referring you to an oncologist. Pathology shows it’s cervical cancer. The sample we took had cancer cells on the outer edge, meaning we don’t know how large the tumor is or if it has metastasized. Your oncologist will more than likely do a CT scan to determine these factors, and then discuss treatment options to beat this.”

  I nod, not knowing what else to say. I feel numb, paralyzed with fear of the unknown.

  Fear of dying.

  The thought hits me like a tidal wave, refusing to let me up for air. Most people my age never think about dying. It’s something we hope to confront in old age, not at twenty-nine. Yet, here I am facing that truth.

  Dr. Johnson offers more words of sympathy, but they do nothing to soothe the helplessness inside of me.

  I stumble to my car and fall into the driver’s seat. Why me? It’s such a selfish thought, but one I can’t help from crossing my mind. A primal scream I never knew I was capable of erupts from me. My hands ball into fists until my nails cut into my palm. I beat on the steering wheel over and over until my fist is numb.

  What am I going to do?

  First things first, I need to schedule an appointment with oncology. Then, depending on what they say, I’ll figure the rest of my shit out.

  With some semblance of a plan in a situation that is impossible to plan for, I start my car and make the drive home. There’s no music, just the buzzing sound of the highway as I drive down it. I let the noise consume me and block out all other thoughts. As I pull into my driveway, I make the decision that I’m not telling anyone about my appointment. Not until I talk to my oncologist.

  Especially not Sean.

  Two weeks.

  That was the first available appointment with Dr. Patel in oncology. To say I was on edge would be an understatement. And lucky for Sean, he’s gotten the brunt of it.

  “How many South Americans does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” I roll my eyes and don’t bother responding, but that doesn’t quiet him. “A Brazilian.”

  “God, can’t you be serious for once in your life?” I slam the cabinet door shut a little louder than I intend to. I’ve got too much on my mind and the last thing I need is another one of his lame-ass jokes.

  “What crawled up your ass lately?” he asks. When I spin around to glare at him, his arms are folded over his chest ready for an argument.

  “Because I don’t find you funny, I’ve got something up my ass? Have you ever thought it’s the shitty material?”

  “No, I know my material is shitty. That’s never stopped you from laughing before. I’m talking about your bitchy attitude the last week and a half. I swear I’m walking around on damn eggshells afraid to upset Princess Paige.”

  I take a deep breath to let him have it, but stop myself because he’s right. He doesn’t know the secret I’m carrying or how I’m scared out of my mind over it. He’s done nothing wrong, but he’s the one I’m taking it out on.

  A large exhale leaves my mouth as I try my best to relax and calm down. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

  “Wait a second,” he interrupts me. “Can you repeat that one more time?” He cups his ear with his hand and leans forward a bit.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeat in a monotone voice.

  “No, the next part.”

  My lips press together and I shake my head. “I’m not saying it again.”

  “We should mark this down as a special event on the calendar. On this day in history, Paige Stewart told Sean Riley he was right.”

  “Shut it.” I fight off the smile pulling at the corners of my mouth and realize this might be the first time I’ve wanted to smile since I saw Dr. Johnson.

  “Only if you get over here and kiss me.”

  With his boyish grin and sexy charm, how could I say no?

  I felt bad and made a conscious effort to watch my attitude with him. It’s been tense mainly because I don’t know what to do or say. It’s like ever since I heard that six letter word I don’t know how to live normally anymore.

  Telling him has been on the tip of my tongue for fourteen days now. I’d look at him, open my mouth, and the words would vanish. Before my biopsy, I didn’t want to worry him if it turned out to be nothing. Now that I know it’s cancer, my reasoning doesn’t hold up. I can’t keep this from him forever and I know the longer I wait the worse it’ll be.

  “Alright, we’ve got the results from your CT Scan,” Dr. Patel says as he enters my room, breaking me from my thoughts. “The tumor is attached to the cervical wall, and it looks like it has spread to the uterus as well.” He points to some images and moves his pen around what I’m assuming is my tumor.

  I swallow hard and nod, letting him know I’m listening when words fail me.

  It’s spread.

  With each new piece of information I receive, my chances are looking worse and worse.

  “What are my chances?” I ask, my voice shaking.

  “Look, I’ll tell you what I tell all my patients; have realistic expectations, but don’t give up. You’re lucky you caught this when you did. A lot of times cervical cancer can go undetected until it’s at a stage four.”

  “What stage am I?”

  “Stage two, but it’s treatable.” I study his face for any sign that he’s bullshitting me and giving me false hope. He holds eye contact and all I see is confidence.

  “What would you consider realistic?” I have to force myself to keep my eyes open. There’s no hiding from this no matter how afraid I am to hear the answer. This is my reality and I h
ave to face it sooner or later.

  “From what I’m seeing, you can beat this and go into remission. I’m not saying you have an easy road ahead of you, but I’d say the prognosis is good.”

  “How do we fight this?” My posture straightens and jaw tightens. For the first time in two weeks, I have hope. She’s standing at the end of a dark tunnel as a speck of light. I stare into her, desperate to pull myself out of the depths of fear and despair. Digging deep, I find the warrior inside of me. The warrior who will spend my last breath fighting this disease.

  “Chemotherapy and radiation. Radiation will shrink the tumor and the chemotherapy will kill the cancer cells.”

  I swallow hard again, my stomach twisted in knots as my next question sits on my tongue. “If I survive, will I be able to have children?”

  An image of Sean singing Let it Go flashes through my mind, and I almost break down right here.

  There it is, the crack in his demeanor I was waiting for. The optimism from moments ago diminishing. “It’s hard to tell. Treatment will be hard on your body, and it’s proven that radiation damages the eggs. With parts of your reproductive system being the target, chances of becoming pregnant will be difficult. It’s not impossible, but it will be a challenge.”

  I nod, a new feeling of emptiness filling me. It’s hard to breathe, each word out of the doctor’s mouth adding another suffocating layer to my chest. It’s overwhelming and I’m not sure how much more I can take.

  “Do you have any other questions?”

  I shake my head. “No, let’s do this.”

  What’s harder than finding out you have cancer out of the blue? Having to tell the people you care about. The phone slides around in my hands as I delay calling my parents. We’re not super close, but we’re not estranged either. Simple texts checking in on one another and occasional holiday visits suffice. Unfortunately, this is news I didn’t think would go over well via text message.

  Biting the bullet, I dial their number and wait. “Hello?” my mom answers on the fourth ring.

  “Hey, Mom. How are you?”

  “I’m good, sweetie. How are you?”

  “I’m okay,” I tell her, even though she’ll know that’s a lie in a few minutes.

  “Dale! It’s your daughter!” she yells at my father. “Hold on a second. He’s coming.”

  Whenever I call, my mother insists on putting me on speaker. She said it’s just easier than having to repeat everything to him when we get off the phone. The problem is they like to talk over each other, making the conversation a big headache and one of the reasons I hardly call.

  “Hey, Paige,” my dad says.

  “Hey, Dad. How’s retired living?”

  “Never better.”

  “So,” I start, my mouth going dry. “There’s a reason I called today.”

  “What’s up, sweetie?” Dad asks.

  “I went to the doctor about a month ago for a regular exam, and the tests came back abnormal. They had me come in for more testing two weeks ago and the lab results weren’t good.”

  “Are you okay?” I hear the panic in Mom’s voice. We might not be close, but her maternal instincts must still be there.

  “I-I don’t know yet. I have cancer.” My throat tightens and I barely force the words out. There’s a bang and some rustling around on the other end. “Mom? Dad? Are you there?”

  I hear my dad clear his throat. “We’re here. When did you find out? Two weeks ago?” The tinge of anger hangs on his words that I kept this from them for so long.

  “Yes, but I just went to the oncologist today. I didn’t want to say anything until I had more information.”

  Mom’s soft cries can be heard in the background. I fill them in on what I know and the next few steps. It gets quiet before my mom asks, “Are you scared?”

  Terrified.

  “I have a lot of confidence in my doctors and from everything I’ve heard there’s no reason I shouldn’t beat this.”

  “Do you need us to come up?” Dad asks. Once he retired, they drove south to Florida and never left.

  “No, it’s really not necessary.”

  I have Sean.

  I don’t mention him to my parents because now doesn’t seem like the time to tell them about my new boyfriend. Plus, I’m not sure he’ll still be around once he finds out I’m sick.

  “I love you so much, Paige.” Now she’s sobbing and it breaks my heart. I’m having a hard time keeping it together, so I tell them I love them and promise I’ll call later.

  A sense of finality washes over me. This is really happening and now people know about it. For all the moments I’ve wished this was a dream, this made it very real.

  The next day I told Charlotte, Lydia, and Scarlett. If I thought telling my parents was hard, seeing my friends’ faces was even worse. There were tears and questions, hugs and reassurances. They’re my support system, my family and I know I’ll need them to make it through this.

  As difficult as it’s been, I feel like it’s all led up to this moment. Sean will be here any minute. I’ve been making up excuses for why he can’t come over the last couple days while I tell everyone what’s going on. It’s emotionally taxing, but telling him might be the worst of them all. I not only have to tell him I’ve been hiding that I’m sick, but that I can’t move in with him either. At this point, I’m not sure which one will be harder to say.

  Sean

  SOMETHING IS GOING on with Paige. I haven’t figured out what’s setting her off, but I know it in my gut. It’s there in the tightness around her mouth, the tension in her body, and the faraway look in her eyes. I want to shake her and snap her out of it. We’ve been doing so good, and now I’m afraid she’s retreating again.

  I haven’t seen her a lot this week between my work schedule and her plans with her friends, so I’m looking forward to dinner with her tonight. After picking up our food from this little Italian place down the street, I head toward her condo.

  Paige has to be out of her place by this weekend, so I’ve already reserved a moving truck to load her things up in tomorrow. I’m trying to downplay how excited I am about the next step in our relationship, but I’m fucking stoked. My only hope is my lingering suspicions don’t rain on my parade.

  “Hey,” she greets when she opens the door. She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes, creating a small ball in the pit of my stomach.

  “Hey, gorgeous.” Leaning down, I give her a kiss before walking in. “I got portobello ravioli for you.”

  “Smells good.” Even her voice is flat.

  We both work in silence getting out paper plates and serving up dinner. Once we’re seated, I look around at all the boxes lining the walls.

  “You just about packed up?” I ask.

  “For the most part, yes.” She pushes her food around her plate, not taking a bite.

  “What’s wrong? Is it not good?” When she looks up I gesture toward her plate.

  “Oh, no, it’s fine. I’m just not that hungry.” Her eyes focus in on her untouched food again.

  “Are you stressed about the move or something? You’ve been a little off lately.” I try to ease into the problem gingerly.

  She lets out a tired sigh and I know whatever comes next isn’t what I want to hear. “I need to talk to you about that.” Setting my fork down, I brace myself. “I can’t move in with you.” It comes out as a whisper, but she might as well have screamed it. My heart drops and the knot in my stomach grows.

  “Why?”

  “I just think we’re rushing it. I need to pull back some and focus on other things.”

  “Other things?” I can’t hide the hurt and insult in my tone. “What are these things?” I ask, getting angrier by the minute. “I’d like to know where I rank on the list of Paige’s priorities.”

  “It’s not like that,” she defends.

  “It’s not? Then tell me how it is, because all I see is a guy who has busted his ass to show you how much he cares only to be shot down at e
very fucking turn. If you don’t want me, just tell me and I’ll walk. I swear on your life I won’t bother you ever again. But I’m done with this back and forth bullshit. So what’s it gonna be, princess?” My chest heaves up and down as I stare at her, almost daring her to say she doesn’t want to be with me. I just hope she knows if she makes that call, there will be no going back for me. I’ll be done for good.

  She starts laughing. Not in a ha-ha this is funny way, but in a holy shit I’m losing it way. Normally, I’d be somewhat alarmed, but my anger is clouding everything around me, covering it in red.

  “You’re fucking selfish, you know that? Do you think this is a damn joke? To mess with people’s feelings and drag them along?”

  I’ve wounded her with my comment, which is evident by the pain in the back of her eyes. But honestly, I don’t care. All she’s done is walk all over my heart. It’s time she gets a taste of her own medicine.

  “Fuck this. You can’t give me an answer, I’m out.” I stand up with such force my chair topples over behind me. I don’t look at her as I snatch my keys off the counter and walk to the door.

  “I have cancer.”

  Three words are all it takes to bring my world to a halt. With one hand on the doorknob, I stop breathing. Surely I heard her wrong. Turning around slowly, I look at her. If it were possible, my heart shatters even more.

  Suddenly, all the tension, melancholy, and mood swings make sense. “No,” I say as I shake my head. She nods in response. “When did you find out?”

  “Two weeks ago.” She looks down like she’s ashamed for keeping this from me for so long.

  My mouth falls open. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me sooner? Goddammit, Paige! I should’ve been there for you.” The thought of her sitting in the doctor’s office alone has me wanting to punch shit while hugging her all at the same time.

  “I didn’t tell anyone. I was still trying to process it myself and wasn’t ready to talk about it. Saying it out loud makes it real.” She lets out a humorless laugh. “That probably sounds stupid. I mean, what could be more real than a doctor looking at pathology reports that confirm you’re sick. Anyway, I wanted more information from the oncologist too.”