by Mia Villano
“What are you saying, Mom? This cancer can’t come out and the chemo isn’t going to do anything? I’m dying?” asked Lydia, as tears pooled in her brown eyes. The eyes Jeannie loved to look into as a baby. The eyes were the same as Vince’s. The eyes she would see the life leave soon.
“Lydia, the type of cancer you have in your brain is… bad. They want you to start chemo to shrink the tumor. But…”
“But what? Tell me what’s happening. Don’t lie to me, Mom. You said you wouldn’t lie to me so don’t lie now,” she yelled and cried at the same time in a weakened voice.
“Lydia, I’m not going to lie to you or tell you it’s going to be okay. It’s not going to be okay. This tumor is not going to go away, ever. The chemo is going to give you more time, not a cure,” Jeannie said, crying again.
Lydia sat there and didn’t say anything. She looked out beyond her mom and beyond Marsha. The room became silent again as Lydia took in the fact she was dying. She wouldn’t marry, give birth, go to college, and get a first job or first apartment. Never have a first kiss even.
“Give me more time? What, another sixty years? More time? It’s going to make me suffer during the time that I do have and then I will die anyway, right?” She seemed to be in a panic. Her eyes suddenly looked terrified.
“Lydia, if you let them start chemo, you will live longer,” said Jeannie.
“If you bring me home without chemo, how much longer do I have to live?” she asked trying to not cry anymore and be strong for her mother. Lydia let go of Jeannie’s hand and jerked away.
“They don’t know. To be honest, you may have a year or a few months. It’s up to you whether they give you chemo or not,” said Jeannie.
“How long do I have to decide what to do?” she asked. How a sixteen year old girl could handle such news was remarkable to Jeannie.
“They want to know as soon as possible, and we can bring you home and care for you,” said Jeannie.
“Will I suffer?” Lydia asked starting to cry again. This time she looked at Marsha instead of her mom for the answer, holding onto her blankets like a scared child.
“No, you will not suffer. I won’t let you suffer a second. I will make sure. We will keep you feeling good and I will be with you every minute of the day,” said Jeannie, crying too.
“I will be with you too, baby. We will all be with you,” murmured Marsha.
“Does Michael or Steven know what’s wrong with me?” asked Lydia, letting the tears run down her face and onto her hospital gown.
“No, only Marsha and I know. I have to tell your brother the truth, but you tell Steven, or I can tell him if you want.”
“Did you pray, Mom? Father Dave told us about this statue in Riverside that cries and if you go there and pray, miracles happen. Can we go there?”
Jeannie looked at Lydia’s table by her bed and she had her rosaries with her. The one’s Father Dave gave her for her first communion. She must have been praying.
For the first time in her daughter’s young life, she lied to her.
Jeannie looked away from her daughter. “Yes, baby I’m praying, and yes, we can go there.” Pray? All she did was pray and look what happened. No, she was going to try life without praying. What good did all that praying do?
“Will I see Daddy? When I go, will he be waiting for me so I’m not scared?” Lydia whispered.
“Yes, baby. You’re going to see Daddy. He’ll be waiting for you, and then you can wait for Michael and me to get there.”
“Mom, I’m so scared.” Lydia was crying hysterically now. Tears streamed down her rosy red cheeks. Jeannie reached for her and climbed in bed with her. Lydia’s body shook with fear. It was as if she was watching a Lifetime movie and she could change the channel or the movie would be over in an hour. But this was not a movie. This was real and there was no changing the channel or the ending.
“I know you are, baby. I know. I will be right here with you. You won’t be alone. I promise.” Pushing away from her mom she wiped her eyes and her face became serious.
Lydia turned her back to her mom and Marsha. “I want to be alone for a while. I want to be by myself.”
Marsha stood up and grabbed her purse sitting on the chair. “Okay sweetie, we will give you time. I’m going to take your mom down for coffee.” Jeannie got up and stepped away from the bed
Jeannie hugged Lydia, and she kissed her all over her head.
“I love you so much,” she cried.
“I know, Mom. I know,” she answered.
They walked out of her room and once outside the door and down the hall, Jeannie sobbed again in Marsha’s arms.
When Lydia knew her mom and Marsha were down the hall she hit her call button for the nurse.
“Hey cutie, what can I get you?” asked her nurse.
“I want to see my doctor, and soon.”
“Let me see what I can do, Miss Lydia. Is there something I can do for you, in case I can’t get him?” she asked checking Lydia’s IV and taking her blood pressure.
“No, nothing is wrong, other than the fact I’m dying. I want to talk to him, without my mom being here,” she answered.
“Okay, let me see what I can do.”
Her nurse walked out to the station and Lydia sat there looking at a television with a blank screen, not playing anything. She felt like she was already dead.
Within a few minutes the doctor walked in the room.
“Lydia, I heard you needed me. Are you feeling okay?” asked Dr. Navarro, an older man with soft eyes and a warm heart. Lydia turned to face him. Her pain medicine was wearing off and her head began to hurt.
“I want the truth. The truth without my mom sitting her staring at me, and crying. I want to know what’s going to happen,” she said.
“What did your mom tell you?” asked Dr. Navarro, pulling up a chair and sitting next to her.
Lydia told him what she said. Lydia was so tired and the pain was throbbing in her head.
“That’s right. You have glioblastoma multiforme. I told your mom it’s the same brain tumor Senator Kennedy had. I’m not going to lie to you, Lydia. What you have is the worst brain tumor you can get. We can give you chemo, and it will give more time. How you want to treat this is your choice. Or we can send you home with care and make you comfortable. We will make sure you are not in any pain. You won’t be, I can assure you. What will happen is you will just want to sleep. I don’t know what you are going through right now. I haven’t had this happen to me. I have had to tell a lot of people over the years that there’s no hope. I haven’t dealt with what you are going through personally. I do know that you are scared. I would be scared. We all have to go through facing death one day, you were just dealt a bad hand.”
“What’s the chemo going to do?” she asked. She didn’t want to hear a song or dance, only the facts.
“The chemo will give you more time, and nothing more,” he answered.
“So, if I choose not to do chemo, this whole process that’s going to happen anyway, will happen sooner,” she asked. The doctor paused and looked at the floor, not wanting to tell such a beautiful young girl her time was coming. He nodded his head.
“Yes, the outcome is inevitable. The decision is whether you want to last longer. Chemo will not cure the tumor you have.” He answered, amazed at the strength this young girl had with such an awful outcome.
Doctor Navarro sat with her in the silence. She was taking the news in while she stared at the rosary in her hand. Doctor Navarro was in shock at the strength this young girl portrayed. He told people over the years they were dying and none have taken this news as well as Lydia. This girl either didn’t understand the severity of her condition, or she had great faith.
“Is this my decision or my mom’s?” she asked.
“This can be your decision, but since you are sixteen, your mom can intervene,” he answered.
Lydia looked into the doctor’s eyes without blinking. She needed him to know how serious she
was. “What I want is to go home. I don’t want chemo, radiation, or whatever else you offer. I don’t want to be in pain. I want to do this without anything to make my life last longer. I don’t want my mom to have to watch me suffer like she did my dad. I don’t want to put her through any more doctor, promise me she won’t have to go through that again.”
“You may want to think about this. You just had a mild anesthetic. Lydia, your mom will not see you suffer. I promise you. Take some time to think this over. We don’t have to know tonight,” said Doctor Navarro.
“No, I’m not going to change my mind. I just want to go home today.”
Doctor Navarro shook his head in agreement and said he would get everything together to have her home. He reached out and touched her on the arm. He hoped touching this magnificent girl, would radiate something in him. She was made from something different. She was something angelic. In the years he was a doctor, no one like Lydia crossed his path. Grown men have been told the same news and fell to their knees begging for him to make the cancer go away and give them as much time as he could. This young girl was someone very special.
“Thank you,” she answered.
He took his card out of his coat and placed it on the table next to her bed. “If you change your mind, here is my cell number. Call me. We can start chemo as soon as you say yes.”
Lydia looked at the card he laid in front of her. His number was his business card, and he wrote his personal home number on the card along with his email address. Lydia shook her head in agreement, but she made up her mind. Why drag out the inevitable, and make her mom and Michael suffer longer too.
As Doctor Navarro walked out, Jeannie and Marsha were walking back.
“Hi, Doctor,” said Marsha.
“Can I speak to you a moment out here?” he asked. Marsha went into the room with Lydia.
“Yes?” asked Jeannie, wondering what he would tell her. He made a mistake, and she is fine and they can go home and pretend this didn’t happened.
“I spoke to Lydia. In fact, she called me to her room. She demanded to know more and what’s going to happen to her. She doesn’t want to go through with treatment, and wants to go home. This can change at any time. She may be angry and upset. She was just put under and could still be sedated. I have had patients tell me to do nothing, and after they think about their situation, they want me to do everything. She may get home and decide she wants to start treatment. We can start the treatment if it’s not too far down the road. She is very serious. Because she’s sixteen, you can intervene and make her take the treatments. She doesn’t want you to go through anything else. You have a strong and courageous daughter, Mrs. Franklin. In the thirty years I have been doing this, I haven’t seen such a fascinating person, young or old. You are blessed to have her in your life, she loves you very much,” he said.
Jeannie looked at the ground. She too knew in her heart, this was for the best. She knew Lydia was an angel sent from God. Jeannie knew she was a gift to be given back too soon. Why pump her full of poison to make her even more miserable, if the outcome is the same? The outcome was inevitable.
“I’m not going to intervene, Doctor Navarro. We will do what Lydia wants us to do,” she said.
“I’ll have someone from hospice come in today to talk to you. There are not many hospice services in this area for children. I have a wonderful one I can recommend. Are you going to be here for a while?” he asked.
Jeannie nodded her head yes. Hospice is for dying old people, not a sixteen year old girl. She needed air. Before going back into her daughter’s room, she took off down the hall and took the elevator to the entrance level. Once outside, she found a quiet place alone and broke down again. The pain was too much. Her coffee and chicken sandwich came up in her throat as she ran to a trash can and threw up what little she had in her stomach. Over and over again, her stomach wretched and convulsed. People walking by were looking at her. Someone asked if she was okay, and she put up her hand gesturing she was fine. The idea of running into the traffic in front of the hospital crossed her mind for a brief second. She couldn’t bear the thought of going through it without her husband. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing someone else she loved.
Chapter 6
They kept Lydia again overnight. She begged and pleaded to go home. The doctor wanted to make sure she had the right pain medicine and hoped that just maybe, she would change her mind about chemo. Lydia didn’t and the next morning she was discharged. Instead of going back to the trailer, they went to Marsha’s. In a matter of a day Jeannie, Lydia, and Michael were moved in with Marsha and John. The downstairs was set up like their own apartment. Moving them into their home was beyond what a friend would do for someone, and taken care of without Jeannie doing anything the night before they came home. Marsha and John, exhausted and heartbroken, moved personal items out of the trailer and brought them to the house. They discussed whether to put them in the guest house. The house needed too much work and they didn’t have a lot of time. Marsha had hospice come early and put up a bed next to Jeannie’s, and they decided to put Michael upstairs in the guest room. Having his own room allowed him to get a break away from the sadness once in a while. Marsha and John put a television on the wall with its own gaming system and decorated it for a typical boy. The room was an oasis for Michael to escape to.
Marsha was sitting on the floor packing up her Janice Joplin and Woodstock memorabilia crowding the renovated basement. “I don’t want to hear you are going to pay me back or you are indebted to me for life. This is what I’m doing for you and you will accept this with no promises of a pay back. I will not let you go back to that trailer, hell or high water.”
“I don’t know what to say,” responded Jeannie.
“You don’t say anything. Help me get this put away. I know you don’t want to stare at Janis. This way you can work and I can help you with Lydia and Michael. We are thrilled you are going to live with us. I want you to focus on Lydia and getting through this. Besides, what else do I have to do, crafts? Man, you are my sister from another mother and father. Isn’t that what the kids say now days?” she smiled.
“No, Marsha, it’s brotha from anotha motha,” corrected Jeannie.
“Oh, what the hell, I was close,” she laughed.
Jeannie walked over to her friend sitting on the floor packing up her Janis Joplin plates and hugged her so tight, they both fell over with Jeannie on top of her.
Marsha continued to laugh as she tried to talk. “Hey sister, I’m not into that scene. At least not since college. You know, after a few drinks I’m up for anything.”
Jeannie smiled too. It was the first time she wasn’t crying. It was the first time she smiled in days. The smile faded quickly into tears. Marsha hugged her tighter.
“Now, now. Come on. We’ll get through this. I’ll be here for you.” Jeannie didn’t know what to say. Other than Vince, no one has cared about her as much.
Later that afternoon, Marsha called Jeannie’s mom. Jeannie didn’t have the strength to make the call. How would she tell anyone her daughter was terminally ill, including her mother? Just as expected, Victoria began to cry and said she would be down in a few weeks. Marsha would love to give her a piece of her mind, but decided it wasn’t her place to do so. She did not want to make the situation harder for Jeannie and the quicker she could get off the phone from her, the better. The time would come when Marsha would tell this woman off.
When Lydia came home, Steven became a constant fixture at the house. Since he lived so close to Marsha and John’s house, he stayed over as much as possible on the weekends. Many nights him and Jeannie would collapse on the bed in their clothes and shoes and fall asleep. He wanted to spend as much time with Lydia as possible.
Michael was adjusting okay after a few days. The fear of him asking questions and Jeannie falling apart was on her mind. On the day hospice brought over the medical equipment, he asked what was happening to his sister. He couldn’t understand why it loo
ked like a hospital in their home. Jeannie had to keep her head together.
“This is for sick people, Mom. Why is it here?” he asked.
“Because your sister’s sick, Michael. She did not want to stay in the hospital, so we are caring for her at home,” said Jeannie.
“How long will she have to use this? I don’t like looking at this stuff,” he said.
“Michael, remember I told you Lydia’s not going to get better?” asked Jeannie.
He shook his head yes. He didn’t want to believe it.
“Well, these are to help Lydia until she does pass away. She doesn’t want to stay in the hospital. You do know she’s going to go be with Daddy soon, right?” she asked. She knows he knew because they had this conversation many times.
“Yes, I know. I don’t like it. It’s not fair.”
“Honey, life isn’t fair. I don’t understand any of it,” said Jeannie.
“I want to go upstairs,” he said, once again acting like a typical twelve year old.
“Go ahead. Listen to some of that crazy rap, read, or play a video game,” said Jeannie.
“Okay,” he said and ran upstairs. That was the end of the conversation for a while. Jeannie surprised herself at how strong she was explaining Lydia’s condition to him. Jeannie tried to spend as much time with him as she could between working and being with Lydia. She quit her second job and worked at the trucking company for the time being. During the day while she worked, Marsha and John took over caring for Lydia. Marsha would watch talk shows with her, or take her outside and sit and John would read to her and take Michael fishing. A perfect set up that only a true friend would offer.
Chapter 7
The first real visit from hospice was a bit overwhelming for everyone. Hospice came and explained to Jeannie what was going to happen and had her fill out loads of paperwork. Marsha and John sat with her for support, and since they were part of that too, they should be included in what was going to happen.