Mia looked directly into his eyes, with her own beginning to haze over with thick tears welling up between her eyelids. As one tear drop overflowed her lashes and ran down her cheek bone she let the words pour out to a complete and total stranger, “I have Leukemia.”
Researching Austin
Dr. Catherine Greer didn’t wait for Austin to ask her to look into his medical records from that hick town hospital. She requested those and any other file in his name that she could get her hands on the day after the first tests.
She didn’t give a damn about his blood type, however, people got that shit wrong all the time. She needed to know everything about him.
With this golden nectar coursing through his veins, he never should have gotten as much as a sniffle much less pneumonia, which he got when he was eleven years old, according to his personal physician, Dr. Bumbledee Fuck Hayseed MD.
Dr. Greer could see the small town hillbilly oozing out of his horribly illegible scrawl all over the page. This meant that whatever is happening inside of Mr. Kyle, had to at the very least start after his bout with pneumonia.
She had been jotting down notes and pouring over every piece of information she was able to dig up. Catherine started with his birth certificate, moving up to the present. Dr. Greer had assumed that it was more likely something to do with an event more recent than his birth but she didn’t want to pass anything up, she needed to cover all of her bases.
She had now moved through his life in records up to the age of 13, when he suffered a broken leg from playing soccer. His left foot found a hole and buried itself in it while the rest of his body kept moving towards the ball, snapping his shin with a compound fracture. Nothing much more had been needed than a resetting of the bones and a cast, followed by walking boot.
The Doctor didn’t believe that his blood could keep him from getting broken bones, but it sure could help in the clotting at the time of the accident. Also aid in the healing of the bones, since blood cells are created in the bone marrow. However nothing strange stood out to her or to the Ma and Pa doctors who attended to him during this accident or any other visit over the years. There was only one thing standing out, glaring at her as not just unusual but downright weird.
The fact that Austin was right.
All signs in every instance that came up pointed to the fact that he did at one time have AB positive blood. Yet, there was no disputing the tests that she herself and Isabelle ran. At this moment he definitely has O negative. He apparently had gone from universal recipient to universal donor.
She had never seen anything like it.
There were no medical records of any type after his vehicular accident just under two years ago. This means that either something happened to change his blood type since the time of his transfusions after the accident. The most likely explanation of how his type changes was the transfusion itself. This had to be the defining moment in the transformation.
Catherine couldn’t find any records of follow up appointments, in which there should have been many after all the trauma he had endured during the accident. Austin had 3 broken ribs, a lacerated spleen, deep bone bruising throughout his lower extremities, a punctured left lung, a jagged cut on his right thigh severing the femoral artery which is what caused the majority of his blood loss, not to mention a concussion so brutal that it left an enormous goose egg swollen on his hairline above the forehead.
Austin Kyle had stayed in the hospital for six days, should have been twice as long as that, if not triple with the extent of the injuries he received. He had been given five different blood transfusions over the course of the first three days in the hospital. Catherine had never heard or read about someone’s blood changing type, whether from a single transfusion or multiple. As far as she understood it was impossible for it to change no matter what happened.
Still, the evidence of this exact thing occurring was staring at her right in the face. She would have to do more digging into his life if she were going to get any real answers. Until then she would focus on what she could control, getting her hands on more of his blood and run more tests.
So that’s what she did, she focused her efforts on creating a new battery of tests and experiments to see just what his blood was capable of doing. To see what it could handle and what it could not. However, she also needed to keep a lid on any results provided by these whether they be positive or negative.
She would have to keep it close to her chest if she wanted to get anywhere with it. One small peep of this getting out into the medical community would lead to a handful of trouble she didn’t need right now. Catherine couldn’t just get rid of Izzy, she has proved herself too valuable to just be thrown away like any other assistants she had in the past. Plus, she already knows too much, if she were pissed off about being let go right when she knew we were getting somewhere, her mouth would no doubt run faster than Usain Bolt in the hundred meter dash.
I’ll have to keep her on, keep her tied up with busy work though, away from the actual answers.
So she made her move to the clean room as quickly as she could, like she planned. Not right away as to draw any suspicion but didn’t wait long enough for Izzy to become too interested in what she was doing to peek over her shoulder while working.
Sorry Isabelle, but you’ll thank me one day… The whole world will thank me.
Hurricane Mia
Mia started gaining a bit of her strength back somewhere around two in the morning. The fluids in her body going to work, somewhat lessening the fatigue that had been riding her the last month or so like a toddler clinging to her back with a Kung Fu death grip. The screaming kid not wanting to let go or for the ride ever to end, screaming one more piggyback ride, one more, one more, one more.
She had to pee something fierce. Her bladder felt like an over filled water balloon that burst while in the thrower’s hand as they cocked their arm back. Pushing against the inside of her abdomen, she thought the balloon could burst any moment.
Even though she felt stronger, the painkillers made her woozy, making her scared to stand up, afraid of toppling over some random piece of equipment or one of the ugly uncomfortable pieces of hospital furniture that were clearly designed for function not form.
Completely sober and healthy, Mia had the grace of a bumbling baby deer on roller blades. Her agility in the state she was in right now would be no match even for a sparsely furnished room such as this. Doped up to the nines and still recovering she stood no chance. Falling wasn’t the only thing she was afraid of right now, though. Maybe afraid wasn’t quite the correct word, but she was scared alright. Scared of hurting Austin any more than she had to, it had gone far enough.
Mia summoned the energy and grit to sit up, and methodically slid her legs out from under the blankets and off the edge of the bed. This simple act took more strength and determination than it really should have. As her bare feet hit the cold floor, the door to her room swung open silently. A doctor she vaguely remembered from hours ago came in with a file in his hands.
“Miss Beckett,” the Doctor said with a grave smile as he approached her bedside. He was young looking, but already had a decent receding hairline gobbling up thin blonde hair.
“Before you say anything doc, I gots to tinkle like a busted fire hydrant.”
“Oh, sure, here let me help you,” He said putting his hands out for her to use for balance but she shoved them away. Her hand on his shoulder was enough of a guiding balance for the moment, I’m not that bad off yet doc.
Bladder now empty, and back in bed she said “It’s okay doc, you don’t have to break any bad news, I already know what I’ve got,” as she situated the blankets back over her goose bumpy legs. The expression on her face saying c’est la vie.
“Yes,” he said clearing his throat before continuing, “the nurse informed me that you were already aware of your illness. But I’m not sure you are completely aware of the extent to which it has progressed. Comparing it with the records we received fro
m your physician in New York, it looks-”
“You spoke with Dr. Hunt?”
Dr. Hunt had been Mia’s doctor since she was a kid. Although she never really saw her that often growing up, considering her own dad had been a surgeon and took the duty of live-in doctor happily for his daughter. Dr. Hunt and her Father had been close friends since before Mia was born.
Morgan Hunt had become Mia’s de facto guardian after her dad passed away almost two years ago. She respected Mia’s wishes giving her space now that she was at college in an attempt at a normal life while she still had a chance, give her the one year of independence. It was tougher than Morgan thought it would be to let her, especially when all she wanted to do was wrap her up and hold her, never let her leave, and protect her as much as she possibly could from a world that seemed hell bent on destroying her. Be the mother she should have had.
“Yes well, she was listed as your emergency contact. We didn’t know you were in her care until after speaking with her. I talked with her myself again just a few minutes ago, she’s a lovely woman.”
“What did she say?”
The doctor ran his fingers over his fivehead and through the spindly, spaced out hairs on the top of his dome.
“We went over your records together and she said that when you left New York, you knew that you had roughly a year, maybe more to live. Looking at your previous scans and tests I agreed with her.”
“Ok, now tell me what I don’t know,” she said with a not un-sarcastic lilt.
“Well, after going over your more recent tests taken earlier today and overnight, Dr. Hunt and I have both come to the assertion that your disease has steadily grown more aggressive in just the last few months.”
I was able to assert that myself as well doc, is what she thought but “How aggressive?” was all Mia said in response.
“We’re actually in disagreement on this. I honestly don’t know how you haven’t been bedridden the last few weeks, instead of carrying on like nothing is wrong. You’re obviously a strong woman Mia Beckett. Having said that though, I am not sure of a possibility where you make it much past 6 more weeks. If that,” he said this in a glum yet confident demeanor, this obviously wasn’t the first life altering news he has had to give to a patient.
This made her think of the man that raised her momentarily and how she could always tell right away when he got home that he had to give the speech to a set of parents in disbelief or a waiting husband. Those days it always took more than just the drive home in order to bring his thoughts back to his own life.
“And what did Morgan… Dr. Hunt say? You said that you two were in disagreement.”
“Before that, just know she is worried sick about you and wishes you would answer one of her hundred calls or texts that she has made since she was notified this morning. She also said that she loves you and misses you and wants you back home.”
“What was her prognosis?” She said almost defiantly, unphased, not wanting to show the tide of emotion that was waiting behind her eyes not even to this stranger, especially not to this stranger.
“Well, let’s just say she was more hopeful in her estimate. But I think that was more from wishing and not the facts.”
“That sounds like her, ever the optimist,” Mia said forcing a smile, choking back the rawness that wanted to make her voice quiver. “So six weeks, huh?” She said swiping away a betraying tear before it had the chance to breach her eyelashes.
“With the right treatment maybe more, maybe even a chance to beat it entirely.”
“I went through all that when I was 12, so no thanks. Do you know what it’s like being the sick girl in junior high? When everyone is worrying about getting boobs, and boyfriends, I’m stuck picking out wigs and trying not to vomit 16 hours a day,” Mia said just barely shaking her head sideways, slowly, thinking back on how miserable she felt then, and not just physically.
Guess nothing much has changed.
“No, I honestly can’t imagine what that must have been like. But with out some measure of trea-”
“I have already heard this a thousand times,” she said more sharply than she felt like she should have. “I’m sorry,” she said gathering her composure back a tad, “but I made up my mind a long time ago, and hearing whatever options you plan to tell me about doesn’t change anything. So… If you don’t mind.”
“I understand. Well no I don’t, but then again that doesn’t really matter does it?” The doctor said, visibly awkward now not exactly sure of his next move, for maybe the first time in a long time. Stalling, the Dr. blindly tapped the screen of the tablet in his hands, although the screen was off it was tilted in such a way that Mia couldn’t see.
“Ok, so I’ll leave you be,” he lowered the tablet to his side and turned an about face.
“Will you do me a favor doc?”
“Of course,” he said spinning back around on his heels.
“Can you tell Mor-, Dr. Hunt, that I miss her too. I just can’t… I can’t ta-”
“Say no more Miss Beckett, now that is something I do understand.”
He gave her a smile this time that wasn’t contrived or forced or pathetic. It was a genuine smile of understanding. “I’ll pass it right along,” he said then was gone.
Mia sat there staring blankly at a TV that was turned off on the wall across from her. She focused only on the reflection on the gray glass of the clouds outside her window as she wept. The tears that welled up too fast and couldn’t fall away quick enough. Now she was just looking at a blurred copy of her room, like she was swimming underwater looking up the into the sky.
She could taste the salt on her lips as she wiped tears from her cheeks with her palm, then wiped her chin, and neck and saw watermarks all down the front of her gown and laughed. It wasn’t a loud guffaw in the slightest, but just enough of a chuckle to make her realize she was done crying, for now at least.
Thankfully she had half of her wits about her when she was first admitted to ask for privacy, not to allow anyone in the room. She told the nurse she had no family left, and her friends were strictly prohibited no matter what they might say.
It had been embarrassing enough to faint or collapse or whatever she did at the costume party, wishing now in hindsight that she had chosen a costume that had more to do with covering her face than it did at being cute and poppy.
No, she was still too embarrassed to let anyone see her right now after having caused such a ruckus, at a frat party no less. She knew she wasn’t the first person to ever pass out at a party, probably not even the first of the week, but she hadn’t even gotten a drink yet.
Now with eyes red from the strain of crying for minutes straight, and a Jackson Pollock of a gown from wiping the bubbles of snot on it that randomly blew up at the end of nostrils.
There’s no way on this great, big, blue earth I’m going to let any of them come in here and start batting their pity filled eye lashes at me, especially not Austin. He absolutely can’t see my like this. I won’t let this be what he remembers when he thinks of me from now on.
Even just thinking Austin’s name in the same stream of thought as the earth dissipated some of the ire she felt within herself, towards herself. She liked the way he would constantly refer to the earth as “A pale blue dot floating in a sea of stars, billions and billions of stars.” Always over-emphasizing the b in billions heavily in the same manner as one of his biggest heroes, Carl Sagan. He would try to fit it into any conversation he could whether it was about space, or climate change or anything even closely related to Earth. She especially liked the way he-
No, I can’t think of that right now. I won’t do to him what my mom did to her parents, and everyone else caught in her wake. It killed them to watch her struggling to live, warring against every cell in her body that wanted to die, all in an effort to bring my lousy, cancer riddled ass into the world.
Mia was damned if she would let that happen to the people she cared about.
So what if
that number of people was now only three, well two and a half really. Brian was able to get under her skin more than she would like to admit, and he knew how to push her buttons, everyone’s buttons really, but he had his moments. And his intentions were mostly on the good side, so if you forgot what they said about good intentions, then yeah, why not? So okay, three people.
Three different lives that would be impacted by this particular natural disaster laying here in this bed, clothed only in a rough, faded blue gown left untied at the back underneath her.
Hurricane Mia, category 3.
Three doesn’t sound like a big number, because it’s not. Not until you factor in the lives that those three effect, and then the ones effected from them and so on.
The collateral damage from an act of god such as the big “C” was more often than not a metric ass ton more than any meteorologist/oncologist worth their salt was able to predict, leaving unforeseen, uncalculated casualties carelessly strewn about the path of the storm. Shredding lives and families and souls apart instantaneously on landfall. The effort to rebuild and recover lasting anywhere from days to years to lifetimes to never, all depending on who was closest to the eye of the storm.
Why would anyone not want to lessen the impact and devastation of a coming storm any way they possibly could. If a weatherman was able to downgrade a Hurricane to a Tropical storm as it was about to hit the coast of some small island nation with a push of a button, wouldn’t that person believe he or she was morally obligated to do so? You could even throw ethics and morals out the window, wouldn’t there still remain some sliver of humanity left within coercing the weatherman to push the button anyway, saving countless numbers of men, women and children. All of them now having a brighter, fuller destiny because of it, at least more so than they once had just seconds before the button was pushed.
The Heart of It All (HeartSick Series Book 1) Page 16