by Belle Brooks
He stumbles backwards a few steps as his eyes crease and his mouth hangs open. “May, they have explained to me that you could die if we don’t. Doctor Brown said you might die.”
“Well, if this is what will happen, then so be it. I’m having my baby.” Crossing my arms stubbornly across my chest tweaks the back of my hand with a sudden bee sting. I grimace, before locating a drip attached to it.
“I won’t lose you, May. We will have another baby, I promise.”
“I don’t want another baby. I want this one. I’m not going to survive regardless. I already know this to be true.”
Rushing to my side, Will takes my face in either hand and stares deeply into my eyes. “Don’t you say that. You don’t get to say such rubbish after the shit you’ve pulled the last few days.” Will huffs outwardly, increasing the strength of his hold to my cheeks. “You are not leaving me, do you hear? You are my wife, May, till death do us part…but death doesn’t come until after we have great grandbabies and not before. Promise me.”
I can’t. Promises should never be broken and if I promise, I will break it.
“May.” His tone is clipped.
I shake my head before grabbing both of Will’s wrists and pulling his hands away from my face.
The sound of the door opening has me rotating my head in its direction. Doctor Brown enters with a delayed approach. “May, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”
“Mad.” I huff.
“Understandable.” He sighs, slipping his glasses to the end of his nose before looking over the top of them. “Will, I have those forms,” he continues, still looking towards me.
“Good.” Will’s tone spells out his anger.
“I’m not signing shit. I want to go home, please.” My head whirls. I’m tired, drained, and I want my bed.
“Maybe tomorrow, May.” Doctor Brown is quick to reassure.
“No. Now.”
“Will, can you give us a moment, please?” Doctor Brown’s attention now turns to Will standing a good metre from the hospital bed.
Will shakes his head, but swiftly makes his way to the doorway before exiting without so much as a glance back.
Doctor Brown doesn’t say anything at first. He begins removing the stethoscope from around his neck. It catches momentarily on a button of the brilliant blue business shirt he’s wearing under his white coat.
Laying the stethoscope at the foot of the bed, he pulls over a chair I watch him retrieve from the corner of the room near a large bay window before sitting.
“Ask me anything, everything,” he finally says.
“How bad is this? Honestly.” I look at the ceiling above because I don’t want to see what I believe will be sorrow in his eyes.
“The biopsy will tell us definitely, May. We will know more after that.”
“Can I have a biopsy while I’m pregnant without it harming the baby?”
“Yes.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Yes. We will do it tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I lay my head to the side so my eyes are forced to connect with his.
“You’ll have the procedure done then?” His face is expressionless when he asks this. It dawns on me that this man must do this many times in a day. This thought distresses me.
“Yep,” I choke.
“Okay. I’ll need you to sign papers giving us permission.”
“Fine. What are the possible outcomes I’m looking at?”
Doctor Brown clears his throat before lifting his foot from the floor and crossing it over his knee. “Well, worst-case scenario is you’re terminal.”
I shake my head, swallowing a lump of concrete that suddenly tries to set in my throat.
“Best case is, it is not advanced and we have found it early. Treatment with chemotherapy or radiation…quite possibly both will have you seeing a future bright with many more years of life.”
“That’s not going to happen, though, is it?”
“I don’t know, May, but miracles happen every day. I see it myself from time to time…it makes me believe in a power bigger than us…bigger than medicine.”
My heart slows slightly as I allow his words to tumble in my mind. “Doctor Brown, if I’m not terminal, it’s very likely it will be somewhat advanced.”
“I believe so, May. But without those tests, we can never be sure. You will need drugs and a lot of treatment. Will tells me you returned a positive pregnancy test this morning.”
“I did.”
“A baby will not survive the treatment you’ll need, May. You understand this, yes?”
“If I don’t have the treatment now, can I survive long enough to have the baby? Can I have treatment after?”
“The biopsy will give us more of an indication, so I can’t answer this question for you right now, May. It’s not in my profession to, and I don’t believe in making wild stabs in the dark. I’ve been upfront and honest with you from the start and I will continue to do so. You need to trust me.”
“Doctor Brown. Have you ever had a patient know they were going to die right from the start…even before you told them they were?”
“Yes.” He’s hesitant in answering.
“Did they die?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” I close my eyes and focus on breathing.
“How about I take Will for a walk and have the nurses come in and get you up for a shower so you feel fresher?”
“I’d like that.”
“Your passing out today was most likely caused from low blood pressure. It’s back to normal now after some rest, so you don’t need to worry about it happening again.”
“Okay.”
Standing, Doctor Brown places his hand on my shoulder, and it’s then I notice how big his hands are. Studying his long fingers, I wonder why he would want to do a job like this…it would be like being the grim reaper and the angel of life all in one.
I’m snapped back into reality when he says, “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure whatever happens and whatever decisions you make will be the right ones for you.” With a simple nod, he walks away.
“Thank you,” I respond softly as he reaches the door, causing him to pause for a moment before exiting.
Looking at the large square roof tiles in recovery, I’m glad the bone marrow aspiration is over. I expected to be in a mountain of pain after the biopsy, but for the moment, I’m comfortable, not to mention warm. The blankets my nurse keeps placing over my body are very toasty. Heather is the nurse in charge of my aftercare, and she is beautiful. Long red locks, hazel green eyes, and a ray of differing facial expressions present themselves as she mutters away. I like her. Doing more observations has Heather touching the skin on my arm, tenderly. The blood pressure cuff squeezes tightly and as it constricts, she tells me about her infant daughter, Presley. She speaks fondly of her child. I like listening to Heather chatter and I find myself trying to envision having these conversations with another about my own child.
“Look at that. Eighty over one hundred and ten. Blood pressure of an athlete.” How impressed Heather responds to these numbers does not go unnoticed. “May, your hip is going to be a little sore soon, so I’ll give you some paracetamol. We don’t want to give you anything that might unsettle your little baby, now, do we?”
I smile softly as Heather speaks of the child currently sparking to life inside my womb.
“So, they did the bone marrow aspiration and biopsy like Doctor Brown explained they would this morning, and they could do it by fine needle like we hoped, so this means there was no incision.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank us for doing our job.” She winks before continuing, “As explained we gave you a light sedative for the procedure. It doesn’t change anything regarding your recovery and you will still be able to go home later tonight.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
“It is. Your husband has promised to take very good care of you.”
“H
e will.” I think of my Willard and his eyes straining to keep his fear and sadness trapped tightly within them…he’s trying to be brave for me.
“I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t go anywhere.” Heather smiles cheekily before leaving me to my thoughts.
I search for happy memories of Will, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, I relive Mum, Dad, and Gem standing by my bedside, beside themselves with worry…not to mention Alex and Sylvia, Will’s parents. Every one of them crowded my hospital room before I was taken down for the procedure this morning. Their faces reflected a thousand worries and it didn’t help the situation. I was already extremely nervous. Mum was so mad at me for not telling her about my recent diagnosis. We’ve always had a very open relationship. I can understand her disappointment and frustrations. Dad was mad at Mum for being mad at me, and Sylvia cried non-stop. Gem, well, she was the quietest I’ve ever seen her in my life. It is going to take some adjustment, having so many people freaking out over me. Alex, Will’s dad, just simply said, “Shit happens. You’re strong, May. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” Perfectly said and exactly what I needed to hear.
When Heather returns, snapping me out of my daydream with her sweet and chirpy voice, I’m surprised to see she’s brought a strapping young—and by young I mean lucky to be eighteen-year-old—to wheel me back to my room. Private hospital cover has been worth every penny I’ve paid. Five-star royal treatment—roll out the red carpet—May is a princess.
An array of gasps sounds in unison as my future support system huddles in the corner and I’m pushed the final steps into the ward room I was in yesterday.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Mum is the first to my side when the hospital ward’s man clicks the wheels of the bed into place.
“Really good.”
“Really?” Her tattooed eyebrows are pulled high to her forehead.
“Yes, Mum. I’m okay.” I rein in the need to roll my eyes.
Mum is just being my mum, only the more freaked out version of herself. She’s always been the unsettled petal type. Dad often calls her a fuss pot. I smile when I think of him saying this to her. “Lexis, stop fussing. You’re such a fuss pot. Let May roll herself down the big hill. Kids are supposed to explore…have adventures...bumps and bruises to their skin. She’s tough, give her credit.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’ve been a complete nervous—” Mum stops speaking mid-sentence and her eyes scream crash and burn when she comes into my sight.
“Mum, Doctor Brown told you this was nothing to get worked up about. It was a simple procedure. They don’t even call it surgery, it’s that minor.” Taking Mum’s hand, I skim my lips over her knuckles. “Don’t get worked up. You’ll end up with a stomach ulcer. It’s going to be okay.”
Mum isn’t processing because her tone reaches a higher pitch when she says, “Well, why would he list all the risks when he was with you this morning if it was nothing of concern?”
“Because, Mum, they have to, it’s probably procedure. Mum, stop, breathe.”
She does. Slow, steady whistling sounds pass her pinched lips. When she seems more relaxed, she stares deeply into my eyes. “And so this Ewing’s Sarcoma…they are pretty sure you have it.”
“Lexis, stop. Just stop talking, will you?” Dad scoffs before taking my hand on the opposite side of the bed. “Don’t listen to your mother. She is a born worrywart when it comes to you, me, and your sister.”
“I know, Dad.” I slip a slight giggle when I turn my head and his lips curl upwards.
“I’m glad you are feeling good, Slugger.” And there it is, the nickname I’ve had since I was learning to walk, or so I was told. I giggle again.
“Okay, move over, you two.” Will finally has my hand and as fast as he grabs it, he bends down and presses his lips to mine. “We will have answers now, May. I’m proud of you.”
“I know.”
After Gem, Sylvia, and Alex all plant kisses on my cheek and express their relief, the room finally clears out and it’s just Will left looking at me like I’m a delicate flower who might lose a petal if a sudden gust of wind were to blow freely.
“Any pain?” Will’s voice is hushed as he lifts my head and fluffs my pillow.
“None actually. You know, Will, I feel good today. The ache in my leg that landed me here in the first place isn’t even there. Maybe it’s not cancer after all.”
“Wishful thinking.” Will half smiles, only his smile is forced and fake. “We already know it is. Doctor Brown was very confident in his diagnosis.”
My heart plummets and with it so does my pulse.
If I believe hard enough, could everything be okay?
The afternoon passes by quickly. Will finally sleeps in the chair that was dragged to my bedside earlier. His worries, fears, and heartache remain written on his face…restful is far from an accurate description of his current sleeping state. Studying the fine lines around his mouth and eyes, the ones formed as we’ve grown together, I find myself wondering if I will ever have a chance to watch these almost unnoticeable marks become deeper until they invade his skin in solid wrinkles caused by a life of happiness and plentiful memories. Sadly, I fear I won’t.
Jolting upwards from his previous slumped positioning, Will gasps for air, doing this in a way seemly reminiscent of someone drowning. Watching his arms flail and his chest rise and fall quickly, I tense as he gasps once more. “Don’t take her from me. No. May, don’t leave me.”
A tear pricks my eye from the desperation in his tone and as I try to swallow, I find myself gulping. “Will, I’m here. It’s okay. It was a bad dream,” I whisper, not wanting to increase his panicked state.
This whole situation is one gigantic nightmare.
Will stares at me like I’m a gift returned, before he launches his head to my chest and says, “This isn’t fair, May. It should be me.”
I swallow hard once more as I run my fingers through his silky, lightened hair. What do I say?
Pressing his head firmer against my heart, it feels like hours before he lifts it off me again. The only reason he does so is because Doctor Brown enters the room.
“How are you feeling, May?” he asks, removing his glasses from the top pocket of his white coat.
“Actually, quite good.”
“I’m glad. These biopsies can be quite uncomfortable for some and minor for others.”
I offer a soft smile in wait of an explanation of his appearance.
“Will, you can take May home now if you like. Everything went beautifully, no complications or hiccups. In one week, we will sit down and discuss all our findings. Until then, I have written some things down for you, a few medications I’d like for you to take this week, May.” Slipping his free hand into another pocket of his coat reveals a piece of white paper at his fingertips. “Now, if you could please return to my office next Friday at eight a.m., we will devise a plan and put the next step into motion. Will, it is important you be there.” Dr. Brown passes over the piece of paper. I take it and nod in response to his instructions.
“I’ll be there,” Will croaks before clearing his throat.
“If anything changes, call my office and come in. I’d much prefer if you only saw me earlier next week, should something arise.”
I nod again. “I’ll come only to you.”
“Good. I’ll see you Friday and hopefully not before.”
Doctor Brown is gone before I have a chance to take in everything he just said. Staying still, I repeat his instructions in my mind.
“May.” I can tell Will is apprehensive.
“Yes.”
“Nothing.” He grips his mobile phone tightly in his hand when I look at him and swiftly taps against the screen before adding, “I put the appointment time in my schedule. I don’t want us to forget.”
“Okay.” The air is uncomfortable and thick between us. This is not something I’m used to.
“We’ve got this under control. We are going to kick cancer’s arse,
you and I.”
I shake my head, trying to contain a slight giggle, but I can’t. Will is very cute when he’s being all superhero tough.
With a final goodbye and a hug from my favourite nurse, Heather, Willard grips the handles of the wheelchair and slowly I’m pushed outside the hospital. This sees the completion of my five-star treatment.
It takes little time to return home to our cosy three-bedroom apartment. The roads weren’t congested with commuters and although it was dark by the time we left the hospital, to me it still seems like it should be day. I’m wide awake and quite energetic.
Once inside, he carries me to our bedroom and places me down gently against the bed. Pulling the covers over my outstretched legs and laying them across my waist, Will asks me if I took the time to read the note Doctor Brown gave me earlier. I haven’t. It has slipped my mind.
“I’ll go find it. Don’t get up.”
Two pills on his outstretched palm as well as the piece of paper held between his fingers have me thankful I have this man to care for me. Maybe Will can make me all better. He’s a pretty special kind of human, my Willard.
“Take the pills, May. Here is some water.”
Taking the tumbler of water from his opposite hand, the one I haven’t paid attention to when he re-entered, I’m quick to pop the pills I can now tell are paracetamol into my mouth before emptying the tumbler.
“Okay, so what does this say?” Will climbs onto the bed.
Side by side, we cosy up as Will pulls at the folded corners, making this piece of paper double its previous size. “Fish oil. Pregnancy multivitamins and two extra vitamin C capsules a day.”
I can feel myself smiling because although I can’t remember what I thought might have been written there, I wasn’t expecting this.
When our eyes connect, I’m instantly alerted to how shocked Will looks. “Is he serious?”
“He’s the doctor,” I chime.
With a single shake of his head, Will refolds the paper, putting it into his short pocket. “I’ll go to the chemist then. You need to promise you’ll stay in bed first, though.”
“I promise.” I know I’m still smirking when Will presses his lips to mine…Will’s lips are the kind that should always have someone available to land upon them at any given moment. My mind flashes to a thought so confronting, it rips a hole through my core, taking with it my chance to inhale air. When I die, Will…he’ll be without lips to crash against. He will need to find someone else to love. I hate this feeling of doom suddenly plaguing me. I hate that I’m already settled on the fact this biopsy will confirm my mind’s reasoning and that my end is nearer than I’d ever hoped it to be. Can we really know this, though? Can we know we’re going to die?