Worth Every Risk

by Laine, Terri E.

When we arrive back, Violet is awake and asking for food. She has a smile on her face that takes all my worries away. The doctor stops me before we enter.

  “We can only take so much blood from you in any given week. And Chase as well. Do you want to use donor blood?”

  I meet his gaze. “Is it necessary? I don’t want to add any more risks.”

  He nods. “She should be fine with what we have, but I’m not sure how long the good effects will last. When you get to the States, she may need more. If you unwisely donate again, you’ll be putting yourself at risk.”

  Though I nod, I would give my life for hers if necessary.

  “Look who’s here. It’s Mama,” Chase says.

  Violet holds out her hands and I go over to hug her.

  “I brought Mr. Giggles and CoCo.”

  She takes my offerings and hugs them and gives them each a kiss. Chase grins at me. Though I smile along with them, I know this good feeling won’t last.

  By the time we get on the plane, I’m exhausted. With Violet cradled to my chest, I close my eyes and drift off. I wake with Chase taking our sleeping daughter from my arms.

  “There’s a bed in the back. She’ll be more comfortable,” he says.

  I nod and close my eyes just for a second. When Chase wakes me up again, I’m surprised and alarmed. I hadn’t meant to fall back asleep, but the worry in his eyes has me trying to jump out of my seat only to be tethered by the seat belt.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask while trying to get the damn thing off.

  It’s a stupid question. I know what’s wrong.

  “I’m sorry to wake you, but she’s getting warm.”

  “No, it’s fine. It’s fine,” I add and take a breath. The dark circles under his eyes say that he’s tired too. “Get some rest. I’ll give her some medicine and she’ll be better soon.” I’m proud of how sure I sound. But I need him to get some sleep.

  When I stand, I kiss him soundly on his lips and then pat his arm, urging him into the seat. Reluctantly he does, but I’m not sure how long he’ll stay. I make my way to the back of the plane I’d barely taken notice of when we boarded.

  I pass a table flanked by leather benches and wood grain cabinetry so fine I’m not sure I can touch it. It’s certainly fancy. Through the open door, I see Violet curled up with a light blanket covering her. Mr. Giggles is tucked under her arm. She hadn’t clung to toys before Chase bought her some. Now she hangs on to the bear like a lifesaver.

  Brushing hair from her flushed face, I feel the beginnings of a fever. For a minute, I can’t remember where I stashed the medicine, but then I spot the mini backpack I’d tucked everything she’d need in. I ignore the thermometer and pull out the small notebook where I’d recorded the time she’d gotten her last dose of medicine. I hadn’t put it on my phone so it would be accessible for both Chase and me.

  I check the time. I’d slept most of the flight. I wake her and give her a dose of Tylenol, which should hold her off for another few hours until we reach Nashville. She quickly falls back asleep, barely up long enough to swallow the medicine. I press a kiss to her head, and when I turn, Chase is there.

  “You scared me,” I say with my hand to my heart.

  “Is she okay?”

  I run a hand over my head and sigh. “She’ll be fine. You should rest.”

  “I’m good.”

  I close the distance between us. “You haven’t slept. I can take this watch. Why don’t you lie down next to her? I’m sure you’ll both sleep better.”

  He draws me on the bed with him. We sandwich our daughter between us as he threads his fingers through mine.

  “Tell me it will all work out,” he says.

  To hear him say that freaks me out. He’s been the strong one, and now he’s asking me.

  “It will. They will need to make her stable before any bone marrow transplant. She’ll need chemo before that, so they need her as healthy as possible before they tear down her immune system.”

  “Sometimes I forget you’re a nurse. That wasn’t exactly reassuring,” he says.

  I squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry. It’s—” I blow out a frustrating breath. “I’m scared, but this is something that happens every day, unfortunately, and is a tried-and-true practice. I have faith in our daughter’s recovery because I can’t survive any other outcome.”

  He says nothing and we lie there quietly. Gratefully, exhaustion pulls him under. Gently, I get up because I can’t sleep. I need to watch over her to make sure the medicine takes hold. Otherwise, I’ll need to sponge her down with a cool cloth to keep the fever at bay.

  When we land, it’s too soon for Chase. He hasn’t had enough rest.

  “I’ll be fine,” he says when I put a hand to his cheek.

  He carries Violet to our car service not too far from the plane. We land at a private airport to streamline everything. Still, we have to show passports to get cleared.

  When we arrive at the hospital, there is an overwhelming amount of paperwork. Gratefully, our families are here waiting for us. Tears I’ve held at bay rain down my cheeks when I see Mom. Her arms wrap around me briefly and I wish she could make things better like she used to when I was a kid. Chase’s mom gives him the third degree for not getting enough rest. But I can see the worry in her eyes, just like in my mom’s.

  “I can take care of all this,” Chase says.

  “I’ve got this. Go see to our families.”

  I have health insurance through my job’s Cobra program. Chase can pay, but why not use the benefits we have available to us? Whatever it doesn’t cover, he can take care of.

  After she’s settled in her large private room and once again asleep, I stand with the family huddled at the opposite end.

  About that time, my brother Mark rushes into the room. He’s alone because his girlfriend is on tour and couldn’t leave to come with him. His eyes have a wild look about them as he searches the room, but when they land on me, he relaxes a bit.

  I’m grateful he’s here. He’s Violet’s savior, her best match for a donor.

  “Tell me what you need me to do. I’m here for as long as you need,” he says. Then I run into his arms and have a major breakdown.

  Forty

  Chase

  This helpless state is as bad as it’s ever been. Now that we’ve found out that I can’t donate my own bone marrow to save my daughter’s life, it’s even worse. At least before there was a spark of hope that I could contribute at least something. But not now. Even Andi’s brother is of more use than I am.

  My brother, Fletcher, and his wife, Cassidy, arrive soon after. We man-hug and Violet’s room is bursting with our combined families. The nurse comes in and tells us to keep it down. We’re being entirely too noisy, and then she tells us there’s a family room right down the hall where we can all talk if we want.

  Andi looks at me and motions with her head.

  “No, I’m not leaving your side,” I say.

  “You need to explain everything to the families so they know where we stand.”

  “Andi, I think you’re the more knowledgeable one to do that. Why don’t you go and I’ll stay here with Violet?”

  The worry in her eyes tells me she doesn’t want to leave our daughter. “You’ll only be gone a few minutes. I think I’m capable of handling her for that long.” I wink at her.

  “Okay. But I’ll be right back.”

  Violet holds out CoCo to me and I sit on the bed with her. “Do you want me to kiss CoCo?”

  She nods and her curls go flying. I comply and she’s suddenly smiling. “Dada in bed.”

  “Okay.” I slide my large frame next to her tiny one and we play games with her stuffed toys. She likes to have fake fights. For some reason, this makes her laugh. It’s in the old Sesame Street fashion, where one animal goes after the other, only it ends up with both of us laughing.

  I place my hand on her forehead and she seems much cooler than she was earlier.

  “Thirsty,” she says. />
  I hand her the cup of ice water and she sucks it down.

  A nurse comes into the room and hooks up another bag of blood. She takes Violet’s temperature and says it’s only ninety-nine degrees.

  “That’s good. I’m not sure what it was earlier, but it was high on the flight.”

  “Let’s get this transfusion going. I think Dr. Rosenberg will be dropping by soon. He’s already ordered some supplementation for her to get her built up for the immune suppression. But he’ll explain all of that.”

  “Good, because my partner is the nurse and expert, not me. And she’s down the hall with the family right now.”

  All of a sudden, Violet yells, “Hungy!”

  The nurse laughs. “Let’s see what we can do about that, shall we?”

  “That’s probably a good idea.”

  Not much after that, the whole Team Wilde enters the room. Violet stares at everyone. Andi walks up to her bed and asks, “Violet, remember Nana and Grammy?”

  Both of our moms walk up to her as she stares. Then her sweet grin spreads across her face as she repeats, “Nana, Gammy.”

  They sit on the bed and chat with her as I tell Andi what the nurse said. It’s only a few minutes later when the doctor arrives.

  He scans the room and then wants to know who the parents are. Andi and I greet him and he warmly introduces himself. The others want to know if they should leave, but we tell them no, especially Mark, since he will be Violet’s donor. After all the introductions are made, Dr. Rosenberg goes to Violet’s bed and asks to meet her friends.

  “I’d really like to get to know them.”

  She holds out Mr. Giggles and CoCo and he talks to them like they are his long-lost buddies. It’s easy to see he’s a likable person. I’m beginning to build trust in him already and he hasn’t even talked about her treatment regimen yet. He has Violet laughing and he tickles her exactly as though he knows what her funny spots are.

  When he’s spent a good amount of time with Violet, he turns his attention to us.

  “Now then, let’s discuss her treatment plan. I’ve reviewed her chart and all her tests. Her case is extremely puzzling to us due to her age. It’s unusual to get one so young. The good news is that she responded so well at first to the stimulants. That’s encouraging. We have every reason to believe she’ll do well with the stem cell transplant.”

  “Stem cell? I thought she was getting bone marrow?” I ask.

  “She is. We use the terms interchangeably. The stem cells are what she actually needs and they are found in the bone marrow.”

  “I see.”

  “Our journey begins today. We start by getting her as strong as possible. We give her nourishment through her port in the form of vitamins and minerals, along with liquid nutrition. She can also eat as much as she wants. For the next week, it’s crucial for her to get strong. Because then comes the tough part.”

  Looking across the room, I notice everyone is hanging onto each of his words.

  Andi stops him there. “Do we need to be wearing masks or gloves?”

  “Good question. And yes. I would like you all to start doing that, along with gowns. That will continue until she’s out of the woods. And another thing. Aside from immediate family, she is to have no visitors. The fewer the germs we introduce to her, the better the outcome.”

  Processing everything he’s telling us is a bitch. “Will this scare her? Seeing us in masks, gloves, and gowns?” I ask.

  “At first. But we handle it well up here. We make a game out of it. She’ll have her own set so she can play too.” He winks.

  Andi half-smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes, but it’s a start.

  “Then what?”

  “Let me just fill you in on something about me. I won’t sugarcoat anything. I don’t believe in it. The following week is going to be a bear.”

  Violet hollers, “Bear.”

  Dr. Rosenberg turns to her and holds out a fist. “That’s right. Bear!” She holds her tiny one out and they bump theirs together. I’ve never seen her do that before and I want to pick her up and swing her around, but I can’t because she’s getting that damn transfusion.

  “Go, Violet!” I yell instead.

  In turn, she hollers, “Bear!” again.

  We all laugh.

  Dr. Rosenberg takes a seat on her bed and continues. “Every day she’ll get a round of what’s basically chemotherapy and we tear down her immune system. That’s why it’s critical we don’t introduce her to any germs and she stays in a sterile environment. She’ll feel like someone beat her to a pulp. I’m not going to lie. It’s the worst, and you’re going to hate me for it. That’s when her donor comes in. Who is it?”

  Mark steps forward. “That would be me.”

  “You’re our superstar. If I could only tell you how incredible this is to have a family member be a match, you wouldn’t believe it. The odds aren’t in your favor.”

  Andi interrupts the conversation by saying, “We’re not actually blood relatives. I was adopted by these amazing people and somehow it’s turned into a miracle.”

  Dr. Rosenberg’s eyes bug out. “Wow. In all my years, I’ve never heard of this. This truly is a miracle.”

  “Yes, it is,” Andi agrees, smiling.

  Mark puts his arm over her shoulders and hugs her. Then he asks, “So where do I fit in?”

  “Ah, yes. Once we deem Violet ready, we extract your marrow, which we do under anesthesia, and then we transfuse it into her. It’s as easy as that. Afterward, we watch for graft versus host disease, which was why we have to kill her immune system. We want to remove the possibility of her rejecting all of that lovely marrow you so lovingly donated.”

  “Sounds like a breeze,” Mark says.

  “It is for you. It’s an entirely different chapter for this one.” The doctor motions toward Violet. Andi crosses her arms and hugs her body. Anxiousness is written all over her expression. I’m sure my own mirrors hers. This has to work. I refuse to think of the other option.

  Dr. Rosenberg stands and asks, “Does anyone have any questions for me before I leave?”

  “None for me. Andi?” I ask her.

  “Not now. I’m sure I will later. So as of now, we’re on schedule to begin her chemo in a week, and then when you think her immune system is crashed, she’ll get the bone marrow, correct?”

  “That’s correct.”

  Andi turns to Mark and says, “Looks like you’re here for a while. Or, you can leave and come back.”

  Dr. Rosenberg steps forward. “We’d like to run some tests on him to make sure he’s completely healthy. It’s routine, so I don’t think leaving is an option at this time.”

  “Andi, I wouldn’t think of leaving anyway. It’s not more than a couple of weeks.”

  “But what about Riley?” Andi asks.

  “She’s perfectly fine and sends her love, as does Ryder, her brother.”

  Fletcher pipes in and says, “Oh, yeah, I forgot. Ryder told me to tell you if you needed him here to give a shout-out.”

  Riley and Ryder are twins and my cousins. Riley is a golfer in the LPGA and on tour right now, and Ryder is an ace pitcher in the MLB. There isn’t a damn thing either one can do, so I won’t pull them away from their games. They are both in the middle of their seasons and need to keep their concentration steady.

  “Thanks. I need to give him a call.”

  “No, you have more important things at hand now. It can wait,” Fletcher says.

  He’s right. I stare at my daughter and know I would give both my feet—hell, my life, for her to be well.

  The next week is amazing. Violet thrives. Whatever they are slipping into her port must be magic. She has more energy than I’ve ever seen. Andi and I both are thrilled. Only we know the bottom will be falling out soon. We make fun with the masks and gowns and I pretend to be Mama and Andi pretends to be me. Violet even pretends to be her Grampie and Grammy. It is hilarious. She loves the damn things.

  Until
… they start her chemo. The first day isn’t bad. They’d warned us what would happen. They warned us not to delude ourselves into thinking she’d be okay. Because the first treatment sort of gives you that false sense of security. Violet doesn’t feel bad at all afterward. She is her old happy self, yapping on about this or that. She plays with her things as usual. Until nighttime when the side effects hit. They’ve given her the preemptive doses of anti-nausea drugs, and they keep her from throwing up, but she becomes very lethargic. We’d gotten so used to her energy, it’s a bucket of ice water to witness the change.

  Day two is much the same. She starts out like she’d gone to bed—lethargic and listless. They come and hook up the evil drugs. She is okay for a while, but the decline continues. Her pink skin begins to lose its color. And at night, she is ghostly.

  Andi asks the nurse.

  “It’s perfectly normal. Remember, we’re killing her immune system. The main thing is she doesn’t spike a fever.”

  Andi and I settle in for another long night. We’re both strong; we can do this. But by day six, we are two broken people trying to bolster each other up. Her beautiful curls falling out of the tiny head that she can barely lift off her pillow is my undoing. I storm out of the room, ready to kill anyone in my path. And that anyone happens to be my brother, Fletcher. He grabs me and pulls me into the closest bathroom. I sag in his arms as I cry like a baby.

  Words that don’t even make sense to me gush out of my mouth as Fletcher tries to calm me. “I’ve tried to hold it together. I have, Fletch. But I’m not sure I can do this. It’s breaking my heart.”

  “I know. But you don’t have a choice. That little girl in there needs you now more than ever. And so does her mother. You’re going to have to dig deep, Chase. You’ll figure out a way. You’re a Wilde, and Wildes never give up.”

  He’s right. We never do.

  Nodding, I take several deep breaths, then move to the sink where I splash ice-cold water onto my face.

  “When was the last time you slept?” he asks.

  “I have no idea.”

  “You’re stressed to the max and zero sleep isn’t doing you any favors.”