Takes You

by Nicola C. Priest

  “Crissie Walker, room four please.” The familiar voice of the doctor comes across the intercom, and I stand, taking a breath as I turn to Cal.

  “Let’s do this,” I say with a nod as I head off down the hallway with Cal by my side. I knock on the now familiar door, waiting for the voice to tell me to enter.

  I’ve a strong feeling of déjà vu as I walk into the room. Everything is in the same place as it’s been on my previous visits and the doctor is wearing the same outfit she did the first time I came to see her. The only difference is that, this time, I won’t be asking for her help. She will be telling me whether or not I have cancer. We sit down, and the doctor looks at me, smiling when she sees Cal by my side.

  “Crissie, thank you for coming in. I’m glad you decided to take my advice,” she says, and I know she’s referring to Cal. “I have the results from the colposcopy and biopsy you had.” She turns to her computer briefly and brings up some information I can’t see clearly. “The biopsy has shown that the cells in your cervix are showing the early signs of being cancerous.”

  I hear that word, and everything stops. My vision blurs and my blood roars in my ears. My heart feels like it’s going to beat out my chest as I struggle to catch my breath. God, I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe? I’m gasping for air when I hear Cal’s voice next to me, his hand on my back, stroking gently. “It’s okay, Cris. Take deep breaths, baby. That’s it, just like that. In and out.”

  I do as he says and almost sigh in relief as I finally get air into my lungs. My breathing is still coming fast, but at least I don’t feel like I’m going to pass out. When my vision clears, I look at the doctor, her face a picture of concern.

  “I have cancer?”

  “Yes, but it’s in the very early stages. There are several treatment options that are available and, I have to tell you, the survival rate for this type of cancer caught at this stage is very high. There’s no reason that, after treatment, you can’t go back to a normal life.”

  “But I’ll definitely need treatment? How long will it last?”

  “That depends on the treatment. What I’m going to do is refer to you an oncologist, who will go over all the options with you and explain the pros and cons of everything, then you and Cal can make an informed decision about which route you want to take.”

  I nod as I listen, realising there’s something I need to ask, even though I know what the answer will be.

  “Doctor, we’re meant to be getting married in June.” The doctor sighs and just looks at me, her expression telling me all I need to know. “We’re not going to be getting married in June, are we?”

  “I’m sorry, Crissie. There’s a good chance your treatment will be over by then, but that’s no guarantee, and even if it is, it’s going to take time for you to get your strength back. Cancer treatment can really take it out of you, so I recommend you postpone the wedding until you know more about your treatment options and how you could react to them.”

  I feel Cal take my hand and squeeze. I turn my head to him. “It’s okay, Cris. People will understand.”

  “But all that money. We won’t get it back at this late hour, and we can’t afford to lose it. I won’t be able to work, and I can’t expect Amanda to keep my job open indefinitely.”

  “Hey, don’t you worry about any of that. I’ll sort everything out when we get home.”

  “Here’s some information for you to take away,” the doctor says as she hands me over a bunch of leaflets. “You should hear from the oncologist within a couple of days. In the meantime, if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to call me. You’re strong, Crissie. There’s no reason for you not to get through this.”

  I glance down at the leaflets as Cal stands, gently pulling me to my feet.

  “Thank you, doctor,” Cal says as we walk towards the door and head back to the car.

  We drive home in silence. I’m clutching the leaflets in my hands, my brain whirring as all the possibilities and scenarios run through my head.

  I have cancer. I’m only twenty-four years old. This doesn’t happen to people my age. At least, that’s what I always thought. Naïve and stupid, I know, but I’ve never known anyone my age to get it, until now.

  The doctor said I should hear from the oncologist within a couple of days, and we can then go and discuss my treatment options. God, this feels so weird. I’m actually thinking about cancer treatment options. I only know of one option, which is chemotherapy, and that does not sound appealing.

  Before I know it, Cal is parking outside the flat and turning off the engine. I climb out of the car and head towards the flat, hearing him call my name as he locks the car and jogs over to me just as I enter the building. He stays by my side as we enter the flat and I walk over to the sofa, dropping the leaflets on the coffee table before heading to the bedroom.

  I pass Cal as I go, but I don’t look at him. I can’t. I need time to process everything that’s happening, and I know that if Cal is his usual kind and gentle self, I’ll burst into tears. I don’t need to do that right now. I just need time to think about things and formulate what’s going to happen in my own mind.

  When I’m in the bedroom, I turn and take the door handle, glancing briefly at Cal as I start to close the door, hoping he understands that I need this time on my own right now. I don’t want him to think I’m shutting him out again, not after finally letting him in.

  He gives me a small smile and a nod as the door closes, and I breathe a sigh of relief that he understands. A few seconds later, I hear him on the phone. He’s doing as he said he would, trying to sort out our wedding.

  I feel the tears begin to form in my eyes as I realise we won’t be getting married in three months time. I won’t be wearing the white dress I fell in love with when I first tried it on, and I won’t be saying my vows in front of friends and family.

  Refusing to cry, I rush over and jump onto the bed, hugging my knees close to my chest. Everything is going to change now. Nothing is going to be the same again. The doctor said I had options, and once treatment had been completed, things could get back to normal, but how is that possible?

  I know there is no cure for cancer. Once you get it, it never truly goes away. Sure, you have treatment, go into remission, but there is always a chance that it can come back to bite you in the arse once again. You never fully get rid of it, so even if I do come through treatment, my life will never be normal. How can it be with the threat of the cancer coming back at any time?

  It’s like I’ll always be looking over my shoulder, knowing it can sneak up on me whenever it feels like it.

  As I hug my knees closer, all I can do now is wait for the appointment with the oncologist and hope my cancer is as early as the doctor believes.

  Chapter 39

  Crissie

  “Now, Crissie, I’ve reviewed the report from your GP and also the results from the biopsy you had the other week, and I concur with your doctors’ diagnosis. You have early stage cervical cancer. The good news is that there is a lot we can do to eradicate it at this stage, and I’ll go through those options with you today. The fact that you’re young and healthy can only go in your favour and should speed up the healing process once the treatment has been completed. If all goes well, you should be cancer free and able to get back to your normal life within six months.”

  Cal and I sit in one of the oncology suites listening to the specialist who will help me through the treatment I’ll receive for, as the doctor says, early stage cervical cancer. It’s been four days since my GP told me the diagnosis, and Cal and I have finally come to an understanding. He can be there to support me, provided he doesn’t treat me any differently.

  The last thing I want is him constantly asking if I’m okay or if I need anything. It’ll drive me up the wall and will only make me snap at him, which is something I don’t want to do. I’ve given him enough grief over the past few weeks, so as long as he doesn’t try and coddle me, I’ve promised not to speak to him
like a piece of dirt. I’ve also decided that I won’t let this thing beat me.

  “I like your optimism, doctor, and I hope you’re right. I don’t want this disease to take over my life. I’m only twenty-four. I have the rest of my life to live, and I’m not going to let it take over. So, what are my options?”

  “That’s the right attitude to have, Crissie. Too many people come in here all doom and gloom, only thinking about the worst-case scenario. The fact you want to beat this and you’re willing to fight is nothing but a good thing. Now, I think the best option for you is surgery, followed by radiotherapy.”

  So not chemo, then? I think to myself, almost breathing a sigh of relief. I know the side effects of chemotherapy, and they aren’t pleasant. I don’t know enough about radiotherapy to have an opinion. I guess that’s why we’re here today.

  “What kind of surgery?”

  “Well, we have a couple of options. I’m assuming you want to have children in the future?” I nod at his question. “Okay, then I think the best surgical option is a Trachelectomy. Basically, it’s a keyhole surgery, so there won’t be a lot of scarring, and we remove your cervix and the upper part of your vagina. We then reattach your womb to the lower section of your vagina. It means you’ll still be able to have children, although they will need to be born through a caesarean section.”

  I nod, taking in the information he’s giving me. I’m struggling to get my head around what the surgery entails, and I’m guessing the doctor sees that as he smiles and pats my hand. “Don’t worry, Crissie. I know it’s a lot to take in. I can give you some information to take away with you, but you can also research the procedure online if you want to. If you decide to do that, I would recommend sticking only to reliable sources, such as the NHS website. There are so many sites out there that I’m sure were just set up to scare people. Now, I’d like to start treatment sooner rather than later, but I’ll give you a few days to take everything in, and I’ll get my assistant to give you a call on Monday to schedule the surgery, if that’s okay with you?”

  Monday. So that gives me three days to read up on the doctor’s proposed treatment plan and sort out any questions I may have. I’d be lying if I said the idea of surgery didn’t scare the hell out of me, but if it means it gets rids of this cancer, and I can still have children in the future, then it can’t be all that bad.

  “Yes, doctor, that’s fine. Thank you.”

  “Good.” He reaches into one of his desk drawers and pulls out a folder, obviously something he put together before we arrived. “Here is the information on the surgery and the radiotherapy. It includes information on the side effects and the expected recovery times for both. If we can get you in for the surgery soon, there’s no reason why you can’t be living a normal life by Christmas, at the latest.”

  The doctor stands, and Cal and I follow suit. He shakes hands with the both of us and shows us from his office. Cal has remained quiet throughout the consultation, and I can’t help but wonder what is going through his head. The only indication he gave me that he was affected by the doctors’ words was when he told me I could still have children.

  I know Cal still wants a family as much as I do, so the fact that even after everything, it will still be possible, is the silver lining we’ve been hoping for. It’s about time we had some good news, such as it is. It makes what I have to go through somehow worthwhile.

  Yeah, I know how weird that sounds, believe me I do. I’d assumed that, with the location of the cancer, having children wasn’t going to be a possibility. Now that I know it is, I’m even more determined to fight it.

  We’re back in the car and on our way home when I suddenly realise I have no idea whether Cal has been able to do anything about postponing our wedding. It’s strange that only a few weeks ago, the wedding was all I could think about, but after my GP broke the news about the cancer, it’s not been a priority.

  “I forgot to ask you, have you been able to sort out the wedding?”

  “Actually, everyone was really understanding. We only lost the deposit on the venue, but they’ve said that, under the circumstances, they’ll transfer the deposit over to a new booking, if we still want to have the wedding there. The only downside is with them now offering the full wedding and reception package, they’re pretty much fully booked most weekends for the next two years at least, so we may have to wait. I know you have your heart set on that venue, so I’m prepared to wait until they have a date free if you are?”

  Wow. I can’t believe we only lost the deposit, and that’s not really lost if they’ll transfer it to a new booking. I thought for sure we’d lose most of the money we’d paid out, and with me not being able to work while I’m having treatment, lack of money was making me feel even worse than I already did. Knowing that we’ve got the majority of it back has lifted the proverbial weight from my shoulders.

  “That’s great news, and yes, I’m happy to wait until that venue becomes available, even if it’s two or three years down the line.”

  “That’s good, because I told them as much and they’re just waiting on us to pick a date and confirm with them.”

  For the first time in what feels like a long time, I smile at Cal and reach out to take his hand, grateful he recently swapped his Ford Focus for an automatic. Personally, I hate automatic cars, but right now, I couldn’t be happier for having one as it means I can hold Cal’s hand without any hindrance.

  “I’ve missed that,” Cal says as he looks between the road and me. “Your smile. I’ve missed your smile.”

  “I’ve not had much to smile about recently, but knowing our wedding will still be wonderful, albeit a bit further down the road than originally planned, is definitely a smiling occasion.” I smile again when Cal lifts our joined hands and kisses my knuckles before turning the car onto the street that houses our apartment. “Do you fancy going to lunch somewhere? We’ve not been out for a while. It’ll be nice to get out.”

  “Sure, why not,” Cal says as he turns the car and heads back onto the main road into town. “I know just the place.”

  Caleb

  I can’t tell you how happy I am that Cris and I are getting back to normal. To say the last few weeks have been rocky would be an understatement. At one point, I didn’t think we’d make it. Her determination to push me away and go through it on her own was so strong, I almost gave up on her, on us.

  It was only when I insisted on coming with her to get her results that we finally sat down and talked. She explained how scared she was and that she felt like she had been nothing but bad luck for me. I assured her she couldn’t be more wrong, and the fact she had cancer only made me more sure about us.

  As if I didn’t already know, it only served to solidify how I felt. Crissie was going to need me over the next few months. As soon as the doctor told us she had cancer, I went online and found out all I could about the type of cancer she had, and also about what treatments are available to her.

  I’m not naïve enough to believe it’s going to be a walk in the park. She’s got a long road ahead of her, and I’ll be with her every step of the way.

  Her suggestion that we go to lunch today had been a surprise. She hasn’t really been very sociable since her first visit to the doctors, so when she asked about lunch, I knew the perfect place. When we’d parked outside the little Italian restaurant I took her to when I first asked her out, she’d smiled the smile I’d come to love, and had missed recently.

  Both Cris and I love it there. We had a lovely meal and just talked about everything and nothing, including the wedding. While we’d both been gutted at having to postpone, there was no other option. Once I’d explained to everyone the reason why we were postponing, everyone was more than happy to give us a full refund.

  We agreed to wait until Crissie’s treatment was over and she was on the mend before setting a new date. The fact that the venue was prepared to transfer our deposit to another time had been a big relief for the both of us. The place was costing us a sma
ll fortune. The deposit alone was close to £2000, money we couldn’t afford to lose. The realisation that we wouldn’t was a huge relief.

  I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine and grabbing two glasses from the rack. Right now, Crissie is up to her neck in bubbles and warm water as she relaxes in the bath. When we got back from lunch, I went in and lit a few candles before starting the hot water and pouring in her favourite jasmine scented bubble bath.

  She is under orders to stay there for at least thirty minutes while I pick a movie and get the wine ready. We agreed we would spend the rest of the day just having some time for us, to reconnect.

  We need this time, just the two of us, while things are still relatively normal. When she starts treatment, everything is going to change, so we need to take advantage of normality while we can.

  I’m pouring the wine when I see movement out of the corner of my eye and turn my head, seeing Crissie standing in the doorway in her Little Mermaid pyjamas. With her damp hair tied back and her face free of make up, she looks younger than her twenty-four years.

  We’ve been together for so long I sometimes forget that we’re still quite young in the grand scheme of things. That only made her diagnosis all the more shocking to us and has made her more determined to face it head on. Yes, she struggled at first, but now she’s ready to take the bull by the horns and kick cancer’s ass, and I couldn’t be more proud of her.

  She walks over and smiles as I hand her the wine, which she promptly puts on the coffee table. I look at her quizzically, and before I can say anything, her lips are on mine.

  Every nerve in my body feels like it’s on fire as her tongue pushes its way past my lips and her fingers tug at my t-shirt. It feels like forever since we were together last, but it’s only been a few weeks; a few long, excruciating weeks. My body is screaming at me to pick her up and take her, but my brain is holding back.