“Well, most cancers are environmental, not genetic. When cancers run in a family, a lot of the time it is because they were exposed to the same environmental factors. In the environment today, there are a lot of environmental factors that have cancer-causing agents and have links to causing cancer. Some areas are worse than other. One significant problem is in food. Most fruits and vegetables available at the store have had pesticides used on them in order to keep bugs and insects from destroying the crops. I cannot exactly say what you were exposed to that caused your cancer, just that it is environmental,” she explained, never breaking eye contact.
The other doctor had been cut and dry and didn’t show many emotions. Dr. Arenstam’s eyes held sadness, and I could tell that if she could she would eradicate the cancer from me along with every child and adult that had it. It was hard to wrap my mind around this new information. My environment is causing my cancer? How is that even allowed?
“Do you understand?” she questioned.
I just nodded my head, not ready to try to use words after that bombshell. It was bad enough that I had cancer, but finding out that it was because of the things I had come in contact with just made it so much worse.
“All right.” She gave me a warm smile. “I do not want to overwhelm you, but we do need to discuss treatment.” I just nodded again, trying not to cry—or better yet, start breaking things. “The sooner we start fighting the cancer, the better chances of a remission are. Cancer is not cured. Once a person has no cancer cells, they go into a state called remission. They are healthy, but it is still possible the cancer could come back.” I sucked in a breath, I knew cancer could come back, but hearing it pertain to me if I did go into remission was a lot different.
“Okay. What do I have to do for treatment?” My voice rasped, filled with emotion.
“We would like to admit you into the children’s ward of the hospital starting on Monday and begin treating you with a drug called chemotherapy. It works as a poison to kill the cancer cells.” Oh I knew what chemotherapy was, not in great detail, but I knew it meant losing my hair.
“So I’ll lose my hair right?” My voice wavered as the tears wanted to break through.
“That is one of the side effects, along with nausea, vomiting, tiredness, loss of appetite and bruising, which are the significant side effects that commonly happen. It can be different for each person, and it also depends on what drug combination is used. Again, each person responds differently, and we have to find the best combination of chemotherapy drugs to fight off the cancer cells,” she said, laying all of the horror out for me to see. Goody, throwing up, my favorite thing…
I was already bruising ridiculously easily, so that couldn’t get much worse. I was ready to curl up in a ball and rock in a corner somewhere or something. This just seemed too awful to be real.
“Sounds like a party,” I said sarcastically. My mom shot me a look that said, Not okay. The doctor just nodded, understanding.
“I know this is a lot to take in, Taylor. I have helped a lot of people in your situation, but I can’t imagine what it feels like to be the person going through it. I will not lie to you, this is not going to be easy, and it will probably be the hardest thing you ever have to go through. I cannot promise that you will go into remission, but if we start Monday, I think your chances are pretty good. If you need anything explained more or again, I will. If you need to talk or have questions any time, day or night, you can call me or have a nurse contact me and I will come talk to you as soon as I possibly can. I like to be there for my patients, especially since this is a long process. I want you to be comfortable with me and feel that you can trust me and know that I will do everything in my power to make you better,” she declared, her eyes meeting mine with sincerity.
This surprised me. I had been to the hospital before, and the doctors were in and out and didn’t seem to care if I understood what was going on. It was always the nurse who spent more time with me and explained things better. The doctor I had seen on Monday hadn’t even bothered to explain things in any detail. He’d just given us the diagnosis of leukemia, allowed us to leave, and moved onto his next patient. I was suddenly very thankful that this doctor had taken on my case. I’d been confused and a little worried at first because I thought I would be going to the same doctor who had given me my diagnosis. This doctor had me at ‘call me day or night.’ I definitely didn’t want another doctor after meeting her.
“Thank you,” was all I could come up with to say. I was more than overwhelmed with how great the doctor was along with processing the information of starting treatment for my cancer.
I looked at my mom. Her eyes were red-rimmed again, and she seemed to age in front of my eyes. It broke my heart to see her like this; I just wanted it to all go away.
“I’ll start Monday,” I told Dr. Arenstam.
My mom gave me a surprised look. She probably thought I would fight starting so soon. After all, Dad was away on business and wasn’t returning until tomorrow evening, which would only give me a night and a day to see him before I had to be checked into the hospital. I only had two more somewhat days of normal now. Two days seemed like a long time usually, but I could see them flash before my eyes as I thought about it. I gave my mom a reassuring smile.
“Okay, that is good. Would eight a.m. be okay to be here by?” she asked while she looked at both my mom and me.
“Yes, that would be fine,” my mom said, speaking for the first time.
“Would it be okay if we didn’t go into any more detail about the treatment or cancer until then?” I asked, not being able to bear filling my head with any more at that moment.
“Of course,” Dr. Arenstam smiled at me. “I do not want to give you more than you can handle in one sitting. If you think of something, do not hesitate to call, as I said before.”
I nodded at her as I stood up. I shook her hand again, and my mom followed suit.
“Thank you for your time, Dr. Arenstam,” my mom said sadly.
“Of course,” she responded, smiling. “I will see you both Monday.” As we made our way out of the office, I didn’t take anything in around me; I was numb. I couldn’t tell you how many people we passed or anything else we encountered. Somehow I ended up in the car, buckled in the passenger’s seat, staring blankly out the window.
Monday everything would change. I might never be the same. Heck, I might never make it out of the hospital if things go in the wrong direction.
Swallowing hard, I glanced in my mom’s direction. The tears she had been holding back in the office were now streaming down her face. She had always been a strong person, and I had only seen her cry on a few occasions. I looked up to her and loved that she was always so strong and independent. Dad had to travel for business a lot, and she missed him but could handle things without him right here on her own. We always had his support, but if something broke or went wrong when he was gone, she would get the wrench or whatever she needed and fix it herself instead of panicking because he wasn’t here to do it. I admired that about my mom. Liz’s mom would probably burn down the house in a panic if she had to handle anything going wrong like a broken pipe or something.
We pulled into the driveway, which halted my thoughts. My mom just sat there, hands still on the steering wheel, parked in our driveway.
“Mom?”
“It’s my job to protect you” she choked out. “I have been able to fix colds, flus, scrapes, bad days, but I can’t fix this. I feel… I feel so helpless. It is like I’m watching you drive off a cliff and I can’t do anything to stop it.” She sobbed, bringing new tears to my eyes. I leaned over toward her and hugged her tightly, never wanting to let go. I breathed her in, and a comfort came over me.
“I hate this,” I confessed into her hair. “You are supporting me. That is what matters. Dr. Arenstam will make me better,” I assured her.
“I love you more than anything, Taylor.”
“I know, Mom. I love you too.” I grasped her even
tighter before pulling back. She looked at me sadly, mascara running everywhere with her tears. She touched my face softly and brushed my tears away. She always hated it when I cried.
When we went inside, I finally got to curl up into a ball, but instead of finding a corner, I did it under my covers. Sleep found me, and there I was able to find peace.
***
I groggily awoke to the sound of my phone. Annoyed, I tore my purse off of my end table and dumped it out on my bed to find the phone.
“Hello?” My voice croaked.
“Hey, babe,” Austin’s voice came through the phone.
“Oh hey! Sorry. Didn’t look at the caller ID. I was sleeping”
“It’s the afternoon,” he criticized.
“Well I was tired,” I replied curtly.
“So…did you have your doctor appointment today?” he asked hesitantly.
“I start treatment on Monday,” I told him. It was silent for a moment.
“Oh. I didn’t think it would be that soon,” he said quietly.
“The sooner I start, the better chance I have of surviving.”
“Can I come over?” he inquired.
“Austin, I’m tired.”
“Please,” he pleaded.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not up to it. Plus, I should spend time with my mom. This is really hard on her.”
“You would still be there with her,” he argued, not understanding.
“Not tonight, Austin.” I was getting irritated. “Maybe tomorrow morning if I’m up to it. My mom has some things she needs to go do before my dad gets back and we drop the news on him since she decided to wait to tell him.”
“He doesn’t know?” he asked, surprised.
“No. Mom didn’t want to mess up his business trip. She knew he would cut it short, and there isn’t anything he can really do,” I explained.
“Okay. I guess I will call you in the morning then,” he said slowly, like he hoped I would change my mind.
I tried to sound cheery. “Sounds good.”
“Love you, Taylor”
“Love you too. Night,” I reciprocated before I hung up. I stretched out on the bed and decided to text Liz since I was awake and Austin now knew I was starting treatment.
Me: I start treatment in the hospital on Monday, chemotherapy
She responded within a minute of when I sent the message.
Liz: Damn. I better get to visit you all the time. I vote you get a big bed so we can still have sleepovers.
She made me smile. I could picture her camping out in the room and refusing to go when the nurses said she had to because we had to have our girl time.
Me: Deal! After I responded I tossed my phone on the bed.
CHAPTER FOUR
I felt someone crawl onto the bed with me and wrap their arms around me. My eyes fluttered open and I was aware that Austin was holding me. I glanced at my clock and it read 9:07 a.m. I shifted in his arms.
“Your mom let me in,” he whispered in my ear. So much for calling first.
I leaned into him and let myself feel safe in his arms. He was warm and reassuring; I forgot that I had been irritated with him and just enjoyed the moment. There is no way my mom would have given us this privacy before I was sick.
Rolling around to my other side, I faced him and wrapped my arms around him. I snuggled in close and kissed him, loving the feel of his lips on mine—soft, smooth and warm. If only I could hold on to it forever.
“I can’t stay long,” he told me. “I have to go somewhere with my dad, but I wanted to see you.”
“I’m glad you came,” I smiled and kissed him again.
“I’ll come see you in the hospital every day,” he said softly.
“Promise?” I asked
“Promise,” he reassured me before kissing me again, but softer than the kisses I gave him. I frowned. “What?”
“You’re still doing it,” I grumbled.
“Doing what?”
“Treating me like I’m fragile. Stop. I hate it.” I pulled away from him.
“No I’m not,” he immediately defended.
“Yes you are!” My voice rose as I detached myself completely from him and climbed out of bed in my shorts and oversized t-shirt.
He stood and grabbed my hand, pulling me to him. “I’m sorry.” His voice grew heavy.
I went back into his embrace, and he held me without talking until my mom came and told us that she had to go out for a little while. She gave Austin a look, which said it was time for him to go.
“That is my cue. I have to go anyways,” he said, giving me another hug and quick kiss as my mom waited.
My mom came and gave me a hug and then walked with Austin out the door. Now I would have a little alone time, which was a relief. It was tiring being around people; they all wanted me to talk and looked at me with sad eyes. It was nice to have a break from it.
I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet but I was craving chocolate. I walked into the kitchen and saw a bowl filled with various fruits. Peaches, apples, and bananas were what caught my eye. Mom wasn’t so great on refrigerating fruit. Her excuse was that we wouldn’t see it and would choose unhealthy snacks instead. Bananas were good to leave out, but peaches—not so much.
I shook my head and took a peach since those would go bad fast, rinsing it off in the sink before I sank my teeth into the soft, somewhat furry skin. Once I broke through the skin and penetrated the yellow flesh of the fruit, I tasted a burst of flavor. I had been on a mission for chocolate, but this would do; plus, I knew it was healthier.
Then my mind flashed back to what the doctor had said. “Your cancer is environmental, not genetic.”
Where did my mom get the fruit? Was it organic or just from the store? If it was from the store, then pesticides were used. The enjoyable taste of the fruit turned sour, and I threw the rest away in the trashcan. Screw healthy—chocolate was probably safer. I’d grown up eating lots of fruits and vegetables thinking they had been safe and a healthy choice, but it had all been a lie. We were all in a false state of security thinking everything we bought that was supposed to be a healthy product was safe, and that was not the case. I was proof of that wake-up call.
I angrily grabbed another peach from the bowl on the counter and squeezed it in my hand until it became mushy before hurling it at the floor. I did the same with the bananas, and some of the mush splattered on me as it hit the tile. I continued this action until all of the fruit was scattered on the floor and the bowl was empty. The floor had been spotless, but now it was a mess, and instead of cleaning it, I kicked the destroyed produce, making it worse. My anger craved to murder more fruit. Unfortunately, the only fruit that was not completely destroyed were the apples since they were a lot harder than the peaches and bananas.
A knock sounded from the front door, taking my attention away from the fruit. Grumbling, I went to the door and swung it open. Kyle was standing there, his hand raised to knock again. He let his hand fall to his side while he looked at me and then past me toward the kitchen.
“Uh, got into a fight with the kitchen or something?” he asked, smirking.
I ran my hands through my hair and felt remains of the fruit as I did and cringed. Well, this must be attractive. I motioned for him to come into the living room and shut the door behind him.
“Something like that,” I replied coolly.
He walked past me and went to the kitchen, probably to get a better look. “Well, I see you won. The fruit won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. Maybe the apples. Those look like they need some more killing.”
I felt some of my anger float away, and I smiled.
“They cause cancer,” I told him seriously.
He looked at me curiously with his big brown eyes. “Do they, now? Guess it is good that I refused to eat my fruits and veggies growing up then.” His voice held disbelief.
“Apparently, most fruits and vegetables that we find in the store have had pesticides used on them, and pesticides gene
rally have cancer-causing agents. This was news to me, too,” I explained.
His smile saddened as he uncomfortably transferred his weight back and forth between the balls of his feet. He shifted and pulled a CD from his back pocket.
“I brought you a copy of the newest Three Days Grace CD. The one with the song you liked on the radio the other day,” he said, accounting for his presence while handing me the CD and changing the subject. I smiled when I took it from him, excited to listen to it and touched that he took the time to burn me a copy.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I replied, “but thank you.”
“It’s okay. I figured I paid for the CD, might as well share,” he pointed out, brushing off my thanks. “I have their older CDs also if you are interested in listening to those, too.”
“I would love that,” I beamed, my smile continuing to grow.
He returned my smile with one of his own soft and sweet ones then ventured farther into the kitchen. He bent down, picked up an apple, and tossed it in the trash. I’d done a really good job of covering the kitchen tiles because the next thing I knew, when Kyle turned back around, he was sliding across the floor and flailing his arms before he fell backwards on the floor with a thump. Without thinking, I was all of a sudden laughing uncontrollably, not even concerned if he was okay. The image of him falling was still running through my head, and his reaction was just hilarious.
“Don’t worry. I’m okay,” he scoffed, sitting up. Pieces of peaches and mashed bananas were ingrained in his hair as well as the back of his shirt.
“Sorry!” I giggled some more. I held my hand out with intentions of helping him up since my mouth couldn’t seem to do anything other than laugh at the whole situation.
He grasped my hand, and a mischievous look came over his face before he jerked me, making me lose my balance, and I fell down next to him. The splattered fruit that had graced my clothing before was nothing compared to what stuck to them now. We were both covered in fruit, yet somehow I was still holding the CD out of harm’s way. I’d automatically saved the CD, even though I couldn’t save myself.
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