The Life List (The List Trilogy)

by Chrissy Anderson

  “Well, how did it get so fucking big? I mean, she’s been complaining about pain for months! All those trips to the doctor…why didn’t they see it?”

  “The pancreas is located smack dab between the spine and the stomach. It’s in a truly God awful place that makes this kind of cancer nearly impossible to detect until it’s too late.”

  “And the really horrible thing about the disease is that it usually causes no symptoms. People don’t know they have it until the tumor is large enough to detect, and by then it’s inoperable. I’m afraid Kelly might fall into that category.”

  “Does anyone survive this?”

  The long stare they give each other offers me no comfort. I start pacing the room like I’m the one who’s gonna come up with the cure.

  “Chrissy, come and sit down. Her doctors are gonna do everything they can to shrink the tumor.”

  “But, Nicole, you just said yourself that you don’t think she can survive! That you think the tumor is already too big to do that Whipple thing! So what happens to her today? What will her doctors do for her right now!?”

  Again with the long stare. Sometimes I feel like a child when I’m with these two. That feeling is multiplied when they talk to me in a whisper, like Courtney’s doing now.

  “Eventually, probably soon, her treatment will be designed to improve her quality of life for the duration of it.”

  Why are they throwing in the towel on her?! I’m back on my feet, pacing around the room, searching for answers. Shouldn’t they be too?

  “Why can’t they just take out her pancreas?”

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “Well, I’m sorry I’m not a doctor and smart like you guys! I solve problems at my job! I don’t KILL projects when they don’t work the way everyone wants them to! I keep at stuff until I’m satisfied with the outcome. Oh, I see that look on your face! Don’t even bring up Leo or my divorce! Now’s not the time!”

  “Okay, okay everyone, calm down! I’m sorry we’re being so blunt, Chrissy. I think we just came here prepared to take care of you, that’s the doctor in us, but believe me, we’re just as horrified about this as you. Nicole, say you’re sorry, too.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Guys, please tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Just do nothing, Chrissy. That’s what Craig said she wanted…nothing.”

  “But we’re her best friends! How can she expect us to stay away?”

  “Craig said he’d call with updates and when Kelly’s ready for visitors, he’ll let us know.”

  “Visitors? We’re not fucking door-to-door Jehovah’s Witness freaks. We’re us! Look, if everything you guys said is true, then we’re gonna have to live with her death. She’ll be dead, she won’t have to feel the pain that we feel. I don’t know about you, but I have to tell her everything that’s in my heart. If I don’t…this is gonna kill me too.”

  “But Chrissy, this isn’t about you.”

  I’m speechless. I don’t know how to function when it’s not all about me.

  Light’s out

  April, 2000

  I’m far, far away from my care free days, the days when my three best friends and I would ditch class and go to Santa Cruz. We’d stare out at the ocean as we drank the alcohol we stole from our parent’s liquor cabinets and talk about boys as we listened to Forever Young on our tape recorder over and over again. I’m far away from the days when I married the boy I dreamt about since the moment I laid eyes on him. Far away from the day I turned my back on that boy and met the man of my dreams and he showed me I didn’t have to dream anymore. Everything’s a blur now, now that death and its dream-killing qualities have taken over my life.

  Kelly won’t take my calls. It’s been three weeks since I found out about her cancer, and I still don’t know any more today than I did on the day I found out about it. I take that back. I know a shit load about her disease, just nothing about how she’s coping with it. My office has literally turned into a research center. Books and pamphlets about pancreatic cancer litter my desk and my voicemail is maxed out with messages from John’s Hopkins, Virginia Mason Medical Center, University of Chicago, and a dude named Charlie Spencer. Poor Charlie…he’s a guy I found in an Internet chat room and is near death from the damn disease. Just like I’ve attacked everything in the past, from trying to be popular in high school, to making Kurt fall in love with me, to Leo in the front seat of my car on the night I met him, I’ve attacked Kelly’s pancreatic cancer with the hope of curing it. But I’m failing miserably. Like Charlie told me, there’s nothing I can really do for her except love her and support her. Charlie doesn’t know Kelly.

  The only thing I know how to do well these days is go to my church and pray; which in my world means going to the old dilapidated yoga studio and striking a pose. Every day, to my boss’ condemnation, I leave my research center/office early, drive straight to the yoga studio, and try to make some sense out of everything that’s happening. It’s quiet, it’s cleansing, it’s nurturing and I just found out that I, too, is dying. The owner has three months left on the lease and then she’s moving to the beach to retire.

  I was dealing with my divorce from Kurt like a champ. I finally started coping with the loss of Leo with grace, and I’ve been processing Kelly’s disease with courage. I’ve been able to semi-handle everything on my own because I had my safe yoga studio to hide out in, to process my pain in, to sweat out the tears in. But now that my sanctuary’s gonna kick the bucket, just like everything else in my life, I’m back in Dr. Maria’s office. It’s been months since I’ve been here, but the magazines are still the same and, unfortunately, so is Sad Frumpy Lady. Same outfit, same blank stare, same nothing.

  “Everyone’s dying.”

  “No, just Kelly.”

  “Leo’s long gone…might as well be dead. Kurt’ll have to be dead to me when the divorce is final. Kelly’s got God only knows how much time left, and now my yoga teacher is leaving me. I’m fighting to do all the right things, make all the right choices…but still, nothing good is coming of it!”

  “Then you have to fight harder, make even better choices. What’s the alternative?”

  “Quitting”

  “Quitting what?”

  “Life.”

  “You mean kill yourself?!”

  “Hell no, do you really think I’m capable of that?”

  “Well, no but…”

  “I mean I should just quit caring, stop loving, stop trying to make something of myself and accept the fact that this is my pathetic life, so stop expecting something more.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like a great plan.”

  “Well, let’s see…I’ll never find love like I had with Leo. I’ll always have to work for an asshole because I’m not rich and, essentially, I have zero creative talent and my best friend is about to die for no reason I can make sense out of! I can love and care and try all I want, but nothing’s gonna change any of that stuff. There’s no silver lining.”

  “You have to create it.”

  “OUT OF WHAT!?”

  “Out of your dreams. They can come true, you know.”

  “You sound like a Disneyland commercial.”

  “Think what you want. But know this: no one will want your dreams to come true more than you, so you alone have to make them happen, Chrissy. Don’t expect much help.”

  “All the dreams in the world can’t change the fact the Kelly’s gonna die.”

  “You might be right about that, but let’s think rationally for a minute. You had dreams with Kelly that came true, right?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, you two dreamt of going to college together and you made that happen. You two dreamt of getting your first apartment together and you made that happen. You two dreamt of being each other’s maid of honor and you made that happen. You made realistic dreams come true.”

  “And I still have dreams that include her! God…if there really is suc
h a thing, is getting in the way of my dreams. I hate him…her…whatever it is.”

  “It’ll take time, but you’ll replace the dreams you had with her with new ones…if you let it happen.”

  “I don’t want new dreams.”

  “Okay then, quit dreaming. My colleague here has a client who did that. It’s a very, very sad case. The worst I’ve ever heard.”

  I’m relieved that I’m actually not the worst case she’s ever heard of but also frustrated that I have to ask, “Well, aren’t you gonna tell me about it!?”

  “Her patient, a woman…she was a brilliant professor at UC Berkley. Had so much to look forward to…so many dreams. She married her first and only love right out of grad school and a few years later, had a baby girl. All of her dreams were coming true, but then God interfered.”

  “What do you mean interfered?”

  “Her husband and daughter were caught under the rubble of the Cypress structure when it collapsed in the Loma Prieta earthquake in 1989.”

  “Oh, no! What happened to them?”

  “They died and, in a sense, she died with them. She won’t get rid of her husband’s clothes. She won’t change a thing about her baby’s room, left it exactly how it was the day of the earthquake. Her hair is the same, her clothes are the same. Basically, she stopped looking forward.”

  “Geez, that earthquake was like…eleven years ago.”

  “I know. The poor woman stopped dreaming eleven years ago. I’m not saying anyone could or should get over something so terrible, but to stop dreaming all together…well that’s just another form of death. I thought you knew that better than anyone, Chrissy.”

  D’oh! I’m so sick of Dr. Maria and her full circle trickery!

  “You’re making me feel like a fool.”

  “I’m not trying to. I’m just trying to make you see that if we open our hearts and minds, I mean really open them to the point that it feels uncomfortable to do so, even in the midst of tragedy, there’s an opportunity to find some good stuff that we never knew existed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean good can come out of even the most horrific experiences.

  Who knows what that woman’s life would be like now if she were able to open her heart and mind to love. Maybe she would’ve met another man…had another child. They wouldn’t replace the ones she lost, but she wouldn’t be haunted by dead dreams anymore. Those would be put to rest by the new ones she has for herself and the new ones she loves.”

  I think about how much I’ve been haunted by dead dreams, the ones I had with Kurt…the ones I had with Leo. I’ll friggin’ implode when I have to layer the dreams I had with Kelly on top of those. I’ll be like dead girl walking.

  “My yoga studio’s been the only place where I come close to opening my heart and mind. I’m a mess outside of it. I hate my job, and all I do at my cottage is drink wine and pace around. When I’m at the studio, doing my thing, I’m strong and hopeful. I’m confident that everything will work out; that I’ll be okay no matter what happens. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because yoga is something I never considered doing; it’s so opposite of who I thought I was. But once I opened my mind to it, I found something I love, something I’m really good at, something I depend on…Wow, that’s kinda what you were just talking about.”

  “Kinda, hunny.”

  “I can’t let that place die.”

  “Then you better start dreaming up a mess of something good.”

  Mommy Dearest

  July, 2000

  I’m rich! And Lord knows it’s not because I’m rich in love and happiness and all that other crap, either. It’s because Kurt and I sold the house in Danville. Sad as I was about losing my dream home, the money couldn’t have come at a better time. My boss has been quite unsatisfied with my job performance, and he’s given me one month to “get my shit together” or no raise for me at review time. Can’t blame him really. For starters, I won’t sleep with him, but that was always the case and it didn’t prevent me (or him) from getting raises before. It’s mostly because half of my office has turned into the west wing of the Mayo Clinic and the other half looks like an Ashtanga yoga clinic. I literally don’t do a damn thing at work other than obsess about pancreases. Then, when I need to de-stress from how hard it is to fix the fucking thing when it’s tainted with cancer, I drop down on my yoga mat for some much needed relaxation. Then when those two things become exhausting, I ditch work and head to Kelly’s house where I do all the things I know she wishes she could do for herself. Well, technically I do everything on the outside of her house that she wishes she could do for herself. She won’t let me in. She won’t let anyone in, and other than sneaking out to her doctor’s appointments, she won’t come out.

  Nicole and Courtney got so mad at me when I told them about my day trips to Kelly’s house. They said I was defying Kelly’s request that we stay away, but I think they’re angry because instead of following directions, I’m following my heart, something neither of them are capable of doing. Here’s how their brains work: “Kelly’s dying and she told me to stay away. Therefore, I must do what I’m told or else I will get a bad grade, oops, I mean get in trouble.”

  Here’s how my brain works: “Holy fucking shit, my beloved Kelly is dying! Even though she told me to stay away, I have to go to her, be by her side! Whether she likes it or not I have to tell her I love her and that I can’t imagine my life without her.”

  And so, that’s exactly what I did. Well, sort of. Since she won’t let me inside, I sit on her front porch and write her gooshy letters about our high school days, college days, and wedding days until Craig comes out to give me something to do. I go grocery shopping, take the baby for long walks in her stroller, mow the lawns, and plant flowers so that Kelly always has something beautiful to look at. In a lot of ways, I’m fulfilling my dream of being the perfect stay-at-home mom. Yep, it’s my own little fucked up heaven. This is what I’m writing about to Kelly today when the front door opens.

  “Oh, hey Craig, what’s on my list to… Kelly!”

  There she was. Standing in the doorway, drowning in her denim overalls, her thinning hair pulled into two scrawny pig-tails, pale as a ghost, and mad as the devil. God, it’s good to see her.

  “Chrissy, what the hell are you doing?”

  “Being your best friend.”

  “No, you’re being a pain in the ass. Stop coming here, and for God sake, stop writing all those damn letters. I don’t read those things, you know.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No I don’t! I don’t have time to be sad.”

  Is it because death is on the horizon? Or is it because she and her doctors are working diligently on a cure? I want to know why she doesn’t have time to be sad, but I can’t ask her, she’ll freak. Freaking will cause her to slam the door on me. Freaking will put an abrupt end to this moment that I’ve waited four months for.

  “Come here, Farmer Ted. Sit next to me.”

  I pull the hem of her overalls, and she reluctantly gives in to my request. She smells like medicine.

  “I don’t write them to make you sad, Kel. I write them to make you happy and make you laugh. And I like coming here. I regret not doing it more often, before the canc--”

  “We don’t talk about it, Chrissy. Got it? You want to sit with me and chat? Then it’s gonna have to be about something else.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

  Craig told me it was like this. Sometimes when it’s late at night and Kelly and the baby are asleep, he joins me on the front porch. We drink beers, and I listen to him cry as he spills his guts that are so full of fear and anger. Kelly won’t let him do it in front of her. Whenever he starts to well up, she asks him to go to the garage. Can you imagine? The man wants to grieve with his wife, and she sends him to the garage to do it alone. Actually I can imagine it; I lived it with Kurt.

  “Your daughter is beautiful, Kel. Such an angel.”

  Oh fuck, I did NOT
just say that. Cancer…death…angels!

  “I’m sorry, Kelly, probably gonna keep putting my foot in my mouth if you don’t lead the discussion.”

  “You divorced yet?”

  I should’ve known this is where she’d head.

  “Looks like it’ll be final in December.”

  “Bout’ time. You back together with that Leo guy?”

  “Looks like that’ll never happen.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  Okay, now I’m confused.

  “You are?”

  “Yeah, I never took you for a quitter.”

  Damn that word.

  “What are you talking about? You were totally in Kurt’s camp during that whole ordeal.”

  “Noooooo, I was in my camp.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “If you haven’t noticed, Chrissy, I don’t like change. I married my high school sweetheart just like you did…except I got lucky. I never left Fremont, never even changed jobs since I graduated from college.

  For cryin’ out loud, look at what I’m wearing! You think it’s because I’m trying to hide how skinny I am, but the truth of the matter is, I wear these every Friday…every single Friday for seven years. Change does NOT come easy for me.”

  “Let me get this straight. You didn’t want me to divorce Kurt because of how it would’ve affected your life?”

  “I dunno…I guess so. I didn’t like the thought of choosing a side, having to hide details of each of your new lives from each other, having to decide between you or him for the annual group camping trip. Stuff like that.”

  “I’ll help you out with that, he can have the camping trip.”

  I thought that was funny, but when our eyes meet, hers tell me there are no more camping trips for her either.

  “Look, this…and let’s not put a name to ‘this’ because I told you I didn’t want to talk about it. But, what’s happening to me and my family should hopefully put a lot in perspective for you.”