by Trish D.
“Liar!”
He saw right through me and it hit me how difficult the process was going to be. I didn’t know how I would ever find the right things to say. “I wish I knew the right things to say so that you wouldn’t get mad at me.”
“I don’t think anyone can say the right thing to me. The doctors tell me that I have at most 12 months to live if the chemo doesn’t work and even though it’s their job to be brutally honest, that’s not what I want to hear. The nurses tell me that I’m a fighter and handling the chemo like a true trooper and it’s nice of them to say, but it’s not the right thing either. Then there’s my family”—Derrick’s voice began to crack and he fell silent. “Everyone wants to encourage me and tell me to stay strong and that’s not what I want to hear. What I want to hear is that the cancer is gone.”
We were both in tears when the waiter came to take our order. We managed to pull it together to place our order and as the waiter left, Derrick continued. “I’m sorry I’ve been so rude to you. It’s a lot to deal with though. It’s more than I think you should have to deal with and I understand if it’s too much.”
“I can handle it!” The fact that he thought that I would leave him because of his diagnosis was surprising to me. I figured he knew me better than that.
“For tonight, just one night maybe we can just forget about this stupid tumor that’s in my head.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me.”
For the rest of the night we didn’t mention cancer, chemo, or anything associated. We sat in the restaurant until they started turning the lights off and we realized how late it was. After leaving, we took the longest route possible for the simple fact that we didn’t want the night to end. When we got to my house, Derrick looked over at me and thanked me. I wasn’t sure why he was thanking me or what the right way to respond was. It seemed silly to thank me and I wanted to tell him, but instead, I simply smiled and responded “good night.”
I only had a few days to spend with Derrick before we left for Detroit. The day before we left I spent the whole day at the hospital while Derrick had his chemotherapy treatment. I stayed out in the waiting area since I wasn’t allowed in the actual treatment room. I stocked up on books the day before and one of the nurses would come out from time to time to tell me how he was doing. Her name was Shirley and Derrick told me she was his favorite nurse there. If she wasn’t old enough to be our grandmother, I would have been a bit jealous of how he talked about her. From the moment I met her, I instantly understood why he liked her so much. She sat with me on her lunch break like we were old friends. We shared stories about our families and she invited Derrick and me to her stables to go horseback riding.
“He really cares about you, you know. Most days I can’t get him to shut up about you.” We both laughed and I hoped I wasn’t blushing hard enough for her to notice. “He’s lucky to have you here.”
“Thank you,” I responded with a smile.
When treatment was finally over, Shirley pushed Derrick out in a wheelchair. I could tell he was trying to appear brave and even forced a smile. His mom was in front of the hospital waiting for us and it took her and Shirley to get Derrick in the car. I sat in the back seat next to him as he used one hand to clutch my hand and the other to hold a small bucket to his chest. We barely made it off the hospital grounds before the vomiting started. I felt so helpless. All I could do was rub his back as he continued to heave into the bucket. He apologized repeatedly despite his mom and I telling him that it wasn’t necessary. I hated to see him like that and in that moment I wished with everything in me that I could trade places with him. When Derrick’s mom dropped me off, I felt guilty that I was leaving Derrick. His mom seemed so physically exhausted on top of the emotional toll Derrick’s illness was taking on her. I wanted to do more to help.
As soon as I walked in the house, it could immediately tell that something was wrong. Mommy was pacing nervously back and forth in the living room while Daddy talked to someone on the phone. I could tell by his tone that it was something serious. They both were so wrapped up in whatever was going on that they didn’t even notice that I had walked into the room. I stood there in a daze trying to hone into daddy’s conversation when Shanna came out of the kitchen and I could tell that she had been crying.
“Shanna! What is going on?”
It was then that Daddy and Mommy realized that I was home. They explained to me that Grandma had suffered a heart attack. That was enough to make me gasp. To make matters worse, she was in the hospital, hooked up to several different machines that were keeping her alive. Aunt Michelle had sent the local police for a wellness check when she had not heard from her all morning. Grandma was found down in the kitchen where it appeared that she had been cooking breakfast. It was unknown how long she was down, but it was a good thing the police arrived when they did to turn her stove off. It was also unknown if she would get better.
We were set to board a plane to Detroit the next morning, but it seemed so far away. No one slept that night, how could we? In fact, we didn’t even lie down in our beds. Instead we all sat together in the living room trying our best to comfort each other. I called to check on Derrick, who was resting comfortably and had finally stopped throwing up. I wanted so much to tell him what was going on, but with all he was going through, I felt like it would be selfish or inconsiderate of me. Instead, I called and talked to Kristin. She did what a great friend does and listened, occasionally offering words of encouragement. She even managed to make me laugh with a few of her corny jokes. I don’t know what I would have done without Kristin that night. It was such a good feeling to have a close friend since Jackie.
At some point I dozed off to be awakened by Shanna shaking me. Our flight was leaving at 9am, which meant we had to be at the airport early. The lack of sleep from the night before hit me hard and I felt like I was moving like a zombie. I could barely keep my eyes open as I packed up the last of my toiletries. Everyone was silent on the way to the airport. Ordinarily, a trip to Detroit was an exciting time, but not knowing what we were walking into, made us all uneasy. I slept on and off on the flight. My body wanted desperately to rest, but my mind just kept racing. Each time I managed to doze off, I would awake to a sleeping Daddy and Shanna, but not Mommy. She was awake each time, staring out the window. Mommy was never one to show much emotion, but sadness and dread was written all over her on her face. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what she was feeling.
Aunt Michelle was able to get a flight even earlier than us and met us at the airport in a rented van. Sanaa and Samantha were both asleep in the back but Aunt Michelle looked as though she hadn’t slept in weeks. I had to squeeze in the back with my cousins, so I couldn’t hear the update that was being given on Grandma’s condition. By the way Daddy hung his head, I could tell that it wasn’t a good update. My fears were confirmed when we got to the hospital. Grandma was in the ICU and though I knew it was taking machines to keep her alive, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. There were so many tubes and machines that I could barely see her. Mommy broke down in tears as soon as she saw Grandma and had to leave the room. Shanna and I stayed and as we both cried I leaned on her shoulder. I don’t know how long we stood there staring at her, but it seemed like forever. In my mind I kept thinking she would wake up and smile at us. Before leaving the room I grabbed her hand, kissed her on the cheek and whispered in her ear “please wake up.” I waited for a few seconds hoping she would squeeze my hand or respond in some other way but she just laid there.
It was three days later that the decision was made by Mommy and Aunt Michelle to remove Grandma from the machines. We all knew she wouldn’t want to live that way, but it was still so hard for us to let go. The whole family gathered at the hospital on a sunny Wednesday afternoon. Aunt Carol had flown in from Florida and our family from Canada had driven in the night before. Many other people from Grandma’s retirement community and church groups had shown up as well to show support. It was so many people there that
the hospital allowed us to gather in one of their conference rooms. As I sat in the room next to Daddy, I prayed that she felt all the love that was in the room for her. Mommy and Aunt Michelle asked to be alone in the hospital room with Grandma when the machines were turned off. It was exactly 46 minutes when they joined us in the conference room and reported that she had gone peacefully.
Grandma’s funeral was that following Saturday. The lady in the casket physically didn’t look like my grandmother at all. Even with the makeup and hairstyle they had given her, she looked so different. It bothered me so much that I could only look at the body for a few seconds. I felt anxious throughout the whole service. Shanna nudged me twice to stop shaking my leg and when I heard Mommy crying I knew I had to get out of that church. I sat outside on the church steps for the rest of the service. It was close to 100 degrees outside and I still could not bring myself to go back inside. An usher came out and brought me a cup of water and offered me a seat in the lobby. I declined feeling like even sitting in the lobby put me too close to the funeral. When the doors opened for my male cousins to carry the body out, I jumped up to get out of their way. I was drenched in sweat and felt embarrassed for anyone to see me. At the burial plot I remained in the limo, not wanting to see the body go in the ground. I knew I was being selfish and the looks on my family’s face said I was being selfish, but I just couldn’t bring myself to get out the car.
After grandma’s funeral, the time spent in Detroit was solemn, sad, and flat out boring. Daddy and Mommy helped Aunt Michelle clean out Grandma’s apartment. That meant Shanna and I had to entertain ourselves. We didn’t have access to a car and it was too hot to walk anywhere so we were basically stuck at Aunt Carol’s house. Aunt Carol had left the day after the funeral for a trip to the Detroit Lakes in Minnesota. Despite the circumstances, she seemed to be in good spirits. I wanted to ask her to stay or to better yet take us with her, but I knew she would likely decline. I wanted to stay busy but, after a while reading books from the library got old, TV got old, and idle time led to time to be sad. I was sad over Grandma’s death and I felt guilty for skipping out on the funeral. I also worried about Derrick. I had been able to talk to him a few times, in which only one was a good day for him. It was then that I told him of my grandmother’s death. He was sincere in offering his condolences but it was evident that talking about death was really tough for him.
It was a relief to get back home. Mommy had stayed in Detroit to help Aunt Michelle with the legal matters of settling Grandma’s estate. Daddy seemed really hesitant to leave without Mommy. I couldn’t remember a time that Mommy was away from us more than a few hours. Just two days after we got back Shanna had to leave to go back to Wilmington. Earlier in the summer, she had gotten an apartment off-campus with one of her friends and needed a few extra days before classes started to move in. Daddy had offered to go along and help her move in, but she declined saying that she had Craig and his friends to help. That left just Daddy and I in the house and we took full advantage. We ordered in dinner each night and enjoyed watching gory horror films and baseball games. Those few days were full of much needed laughter, joking, and bonding, just what we both needed.
∞∞∞
My junior year of high school was the first year that Daddy didn’t drop me off for the first day of school. He wasn’t happy about this change of plans, but allowed Derrick to pick me up so that we could ride together. I was on track to get my license in a few weeks and would hopefully be able to drive Mommy’s car since she rarely left the house during the day. Even more so, I hoped that I would get my own car soon. In the meantime, I enjoyed being able to have Derrick pick me up in the mornings for as long as he felt up to it. Derrick still had to have chemotherapy treatments after school three times a week. His appointment with his doctor was also coming up to see if the tumor was going away. There wasn’t much talk about it but there was so much uncertainty about his future that I knew it had to weigh heavily on his mind. Would he be able to handle treatment and school, would he be able to avoid surgery? And then there was the unspoken subject of death, which no one close to the situation would even allow to come out our mouths. Death just wasn’t an option. It just could not happen, which left no reason for any of us to discuss it.
Even though there was still one more year after my junior year, it was exciting to be that much closer to graduation. It was also time to start thinking about what colleges to apply to. I had pretty much made up my mind to go to UNCW even though Shanna would be gone when I started. I knew however that I had to come up with a few back up choices. I had tried relentlessly to sell Derrick on the idea of coming to Wilmington with me but college was a subject that he avoided along with many others. As the time got closer to Derrick’s appointment with the doctor, he seemed more on edge. He refused to talk about how he felt about it though. I felt forced to let it go, not wanting to set him off. His parents had tried to get him to go to a cancer support group with other teens which I also felt like he needed. I even offered to go with him. Still he adamantly refused. It worried me that he wouldn’t talk to anyone about his cancer. I could only imagine the feelings he was holding inside. What worried me more was how explosive it would be when they all came out.
It just so happened that the day I was to go for my driver’s license test was the day Derrick was to go for his appointment with the oncologist. I offered to put it off for a day so I could go with him but he insisted I go take the test. We talked for hours the night before about everything except the appointment. I wanted to say something encouraging before we got off the phone but I found myself at a loss of words. He wished me luck on the driving test and after we hung up I was so mad at myself for not saying the cliché “good luck” or “everything will be OK.” I was even tempted to call back to say something, but declined not knowing how he would react. The last thing I wanted was to end the night on a negative note. Between Derrick’s appointment and the driving test I figured I wouldn’t get much rest and I was right. After a while I stopped trying to fall asleep and just laid there. I prayed that God would give me a break. I had just lost Grandma and I didn’t want to lose Derrick too.
That next morning I was tired, worried, and nervous. Mommy tried to convince me to eat breakfast before leaving, but I didn’t see how I could possibly keep it down. The plan was for Mommy to follow Daddy and I to the DMV so that if I passed, I could drive myself to school. I had looked forward to getting my license for so long. That morning I would have gladly taken a fail on this test if it meant that Derrick would be OK. I fought back tears on the way to the test and was glad that Daddy took my silence as nerves around the test. The written test took me double the amount of time that it should have since I could not stop shaking let alone concentrate. I passed with just one more wrong answer to spare. The actual driving test was such a blur that I had to ask for confirmation when the instructor told me that I passed. I wanted to be happy, but there was no way I could fully embrace it until I knew Derrick was OK. I took the long route to school, contemplating just not going. I was so exhausted, and so worried that I knew it would be a wasted day. The only thing that made me go was that it would likely be the fastest way I could catch up with Derrick.
It was mid-morning by the time I got to school, which put me there with just in time for the second period. I typically did not see Derrick after first period, but if he were at school, surely he would have sought me out to tell me what happened during the appointment. It wasn’t time to panic as I thought I would see him after the next period. We always met up after second period. I watched the clock during the whole second period nervously fidgeting with anything I could find. I had gone to the bathroom twice to splash water on my face and the second time I considered going to the office and making up a reason to use the phone to call him. I talked myself out of it knowing that I was being irrational. When the bell finally rang my legs felt like lead. As much as I desired to see Derrick, I couldn’t move towards the door. It took several deep breaths and an
internal pep talk to get myself together. It had to be good news. Breathe Cheryl. Just Breathe. My stomach dropped when I got outside the building. I stood in the spot that we always met and he was not there. He was nowhere to be found. I tried to reassure myself that everything was OK. Maybe the appointment went longer than expected. I would definitely see him during lunch I reasoned. Lunch came and went and still no Derrick, but I still held onto my optimism that maybe they went to celebrate good news after the appointment.
The last period of the day was absolute torture. It was the longest 90 minutes I had ever had to endure. When the bell finally rang I all but sprinted to my car when it hit me that I was scheduled to work right after school. I had to call in. Maybe I could go in late, but I had to make sure Derrick was OK. I called Tim and told him that I wasn’t feeling well and that I would try to make it in later. Though I felt bad and knew Tim was upset that I was calling in at short notice, I felt it was necessary. I drove to Derrick’s house wishing I could teleport myself to get there sooner. I was angry at every red light I hit, but nothing made me angrier when I arrived at Derrick’s house and no one was there. His car as well as his mom’s was gone and it was clear that no one was home. I was mad and annoyed. He knew I was waiting to hear from him, why would he avoid me? More importantly what did this mean? Was he ok or was it bad news? I decided to wait on their front porch and be there when Derrick got home. After an hour I felt like I needed to leave. There was no telling when they would be home and I couldn’t just sit there.
I cried like a baby as I drove away from Derrick’s house. It was so bad that I thought about pulling over until I got myself together. I couldn’t go home and face my parents so I decided to go to work and try to keep busy. I was a mess when I got to work and I had to convince Tim that I was able to work. I tried to call Derrick’s house twice but there was no answer. Each time the answering machine picked up, I was close to tears again and knew I had to stop calling. It was a slow night but I did anything I could come up with stay busy. When my shift ended, I sat in the car dreading going home. It would take energy I didn’t have to pretend that I was OK and if I went home crying it would put my parents in the predicament to not know what to say or do to make me feel better. I didn’t really feel like there was any way to win. As I turned on my street I noticed a familiar orange car parked outside the house. I had been waiting all day to see and talk to Derrick. When the time finally came, I didn’t feel ready. I was nervous. As I parked the car, I had to take several deep breaths.