“Tell us more about this specific form of leukemia, doctor,” I say with my throat clogged. I’m fighting my own tears trying to be strong for my woman.
“Ph/CML is a type of cancer that affects the blood and the bone marrow,” he says. He takes a deep breath then continues, “The bone marrow itself produces too many white blood cells and these cells are immature or damaged and sometimes broken. It is an abnormal chromosome that causes the body to produce too many white blood cells. These kind of abnormal white blood cells crowd out normal healthy cells.” While he’s been talking, he’s pointing to a chart in his hand. A chart that I don’t pay attention to as he points things out, it’s his words I’m interested in, not some God damn drawing.
“How do we treat this?”
“I’m going to start her on some medication that will help reverse the broken chromosome. It has a very high success rate of curing those with this type of cancer. It will help jump start her body into paving the way to what I’m positive will be a full recovery. Her body needs to readjust itself, and this medication I’m prescribing for her will help trigger the body into regeneration of the white blood cells.”
“Will she ever be cured of this?”
“I wish as her doctor I could give a definite yes but like with all cancer it can come back at some point in time.” Dr. Tremaine says to me. I nod my head and look over at my girl. Her grip on my hand is strong and unyielding.
“We’re going to get you through this, Emory,” I say to her.
“Will I die?” she asks Dr. Tremaine.
“You most certainly will not!” I growl out and stand up from my chair. I lean down in front of her and tell her, “Don’t you dare give up and quit, do you hear me? I won’t let you, I love you.”
“I love you, Marcus, but you need to move on. I’m not saddling you to me because you want to make me better. You need to find someone to give you children, to grow old with. You need to move on and fall in love with someone who can give you forever.”
“Now wait a minute,” Dr. Tremaine says, breaking into our conversation. “I didn’t say you couldn’t have children. We’ve caught your case very early on and it is treatable, we just have to make sure we find the right dose of medication and get you healing. You can beat this, Emory,” he says, furthering my resolve and determination.
“We do this together, Emory. I won’t let you get rid of me…ever.” It takes her a minute to respond, but when she does she breaks my heart.
“I don’t want you to stay with me out of obligation, Marcus. There’s no way I can look at you and not be scared that the only reason you’re still by my side is because of your honor and commitment to those around you. You fight for people’s lives on a daily basis, I don’t want to be just another number to you at some point in time.”
“You could never be a number to me, Emory, you’re the woman I love, the woman I’m going to marry. Life isn’t full of guarantees, Em baby, but if the roles were reversed, would you stand by me and marry me?”
“Of course I would, I love you.”
“Give me the same benefit of the doubt, baby. I love you more than the next breath that leaves my body. I need you like the everyday person needs the air to breathe. Don’t push me away, baby, let me love you.” She looks deeply into my eyes for a few moments before she nods her head in acknowledgement.
“Okay, Marcus.”
“Thank you, Em baby,” I say as I brush my lips against hers. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Marcus.”
“I need to run a few tests on your heart and liver function before we can begin your medication, Emory. I have those set up for today, my lab is ready for you.”
After the tests were concluded, I followed Emory out to the parking lot and we decide to stop somewhere and eat on the way home. Once her results are in, Dr. Tremaine is going to call her prescription in so she can start it right away. As we’re driving home from the restaurant, I think to myself, “This is just a blip on the radar, we’ll get through it.” We pull up to her driveway and I can’t help but notice all the cars that are sitting in front of her house. I get out and go to her and say, “I guess we’re telling everyone what’s happening with you now.”
“That’s a damn good idea if I’ve ever heard one,” I hear come from the front porch and notice Carson and Levi standing there.
“Hey, guys,” I say to them.
“You,” Carson says pointing at Emory. “I don’t like seein’ my woman cry, and she’s so worried about you that she does nothin’ but cry. Fix it,” he says as he walks inside. Levi nods at us and follows his brother inside of the house.
“I don’t think me talking to her is going to ‘fix it’,” Emory says. I happen to agree with her, so doing what I can to be there for her, I grab her hand and escort her into the house.
Chapter 2
Emory
Only the strong will prevail…
We just finished telling my family about my diagnosis. My mother and sisters have not stopped crying. I look over at Carson and see the devastation on his face.
“I’m sorry, Carson, I can’t fix this with the snap of my fingers. But I’m going to fight it and take my medication and pray for the cure.”
“And we’ll be at your side,” Mom says putting her arms around me.
“Absolutely,” Rainey says.
“Wild horses couldn’t pull us away,” Ariel tells me. The four of us huddle in a hug, why did I think I could do this without them?
Marcus comes up to me and wraps his arms around me saying, “We have this, Emory, nothing on this earth will take you from me. You’re a fighter baby, and with all of us at your back, there isn’t’ anything you can’t do.”
“Thank you, I was trying to protect you all by not telling you. I see now that it was a mistake, one I won’t be making again,” I tell them all.
“You best not, young lady,” Mom scolds me.
“Don’t keep us in the dark anymore, Em,” Ariel tells me, “we didn’t know what was going on with you. Only that something was, and we all had a feeling it was bad.”
“And our imaginations were worse than your prognosis. This is treatable and curable. We’ve got your back, sis, anything you need, we’re here for you.”
“I’ve got this,” I state, more to myself than anyone else.
“Now,” Mom says, clapping her hands together, “do we need to change your diet or anything to go along with getting you back on your feet?”
“We didn’t talk nutrition, Mom, only medication and which was the best with the highest success rate,” I say honestly, wondering if I should consult with a dietician.
“Well,” Ariel pipes up, “you’ve got a brother-in-law who’s a doctor and the world is your oyster, sister dearest. We have the internet to consult,” and I laugh at her hand gestures as she points at my laptop which is currently out and on the coffee table, due to my own research.
“What have I told you about googling medical diagnoses, Ariel?” Dillon asks holding my precious nephew in his arms. He’s beginning to get fussy, I guess someone wants his momma to feed him.
“Give me Devon, he needs to eat, Dillon.” Ariel tells him, surely, she’s not fixing to whip the boob out here in front of everyone is she? I sigh in relief when she asks me if she can use my bedroom. Once she’s gone, the guys all gather on the couch and Mom takes off down the hallway to assist Ariel, not sure how she plans to do that. Hmmm…Mom’s been kinda grandma crazy since Devon was born. Wonder if she tried to get Ariel to let her hold a boob? As I think this I burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny, beautiful?” Marcus asks me.
“I was just wondering if Mom’s helping means holding Ariel’s boob while Devon eats.” My statement causes the room to burst out into laughter—Dillon, not so much.
“You’re evil,” Dillon tells me.
“Me? How?” I ask him with innocent eyes.
“As if Glory would want to hold her boob,” he states to me.
“I’m sorry, have you met my mom?” he looks at me, then gets up and walks down my hallway.
Next thing I hear is, “Are you crazy, woman!” and that is the straw that broke the camel’s back. We are all hunched over laughing hysterically with tears rolling down our faces. For such a traumatic day, this sure has turned out better than I could’ve imagined or hoped for.
It’s been six weeks since I was given my prescription and started it. I have good days and I have bad days. I feel weak and tired and have had to slow down on my client list. Ariel and Rainey have picked up a lot of my clientele and it’s made things easier for me to cope with the schedule. Marcus has been a mother hen, never letting me do anything as easy as lifting a milk jug. He comes in every morning that he’s not on shift and helps me prepare my supplies and helps me stock up my room. When he isn’t around to do it, Levi and Carson step in. I’m starting to realize why it was Ariel got so frustrated during her stalker event.
“Would you back off, Carson! I can lift a damn bottle of ink!”
“You look pale today, Emory, let me help and don’t give me any shit,” he tells me. I look pale? I didn’t notice it when I looked in the mirror when I went to the bathroom. As whereas I feel a little weak, today is actually a good day for me. Giving him my best ‘go to hell’ look, I march into the bathroom to look in the mirror. My pallor looks fine to me, but then again, I don’t see myself the way others do I suppose.
“I look damn fine to me,” I say walking out of the bathroom where I overhear my sister laying into him.
“Don’t take all of her independence away from her. She’s fine, let her be, if she needs help she’ll ask for it.” I walk up to my sister and give her a high-five.
“You tell him, sis,” I state, turning around and putting my hands on my hips to show Carson that we stand united in this.
“What’s going on out there?” Ariel asks leaving her cubicle and coming to us.
“My man,” Rainey says pointing at Carson, to which his face lights up from her referring as him being her man. “Doesn’t know how to let well enough alone. He won’t even let her lift her bottle of ink to take into her space. It’s ridiculous and ludicrous, they need to let her breath,” she says with her chest breathing deeply through her anger.
“I agree, let her be, Carson. She knows to ask for help if she needs any.”
“Marcus told me not to let her lift anything,” he tells her.
“Well, we’re your bosses, not Marcus. You listen to us,” she tells him.
“This isn’t a work thing, Ariel,” he tells her. “It’s about takin’ care of my buddy’s woman. It’s a man code thing, and I have to stand by him.”
“Keep it up, and you’ll be standing by him outside,” I say pointing to the door. Carson is one of the best up and coming tattoo artists I’ve ever been around. He’s taken to the art like he was born doing it from birth. We’re all impressed, and he just has a couple of months ahead of him before his status changes from intern to artist.
“Hardee-har-har,” he says walking away from us as a client enters the door.
“I’m going to ring Marcus’ neck,” I tell my sisters.
“He’s just worried about you,” Ariel says to me, causing me to roll my eyes at the statement.
“Wouldn’t you be worried if he wasn’t showing that he cares?” Rainey asks me. I think about it, and yes, I would be.
“Yes, okay, but don’t you think he’s taking this a bit to the extreme level?”
“Maybe? But that’s what he has you for. To put him back in line when he crosses that invisible line,” Ariel tells me. And I know she’s right, because I’ve seen her put Dillon back over that proverbial line on several occasions.
“Fine!” I say, slapping my hands on my legs dramatically and walking away from them and back into my room.
Marcus
I’m sitting in my bunker room at the firehouse when I get an alert indicating an incoming text message. I open it up and smile at the text I see from Carson.
Carson: Your woman is a pain in the ass.
Me: What’s she done this time? I type with a smile breaking out on my face. My woman can be difficult on the best of days, but you piss her off and you best be running in the opposite direction. Damn, I love that feisty girl.
Carson: She threw a fit when I lifted her ink bottle for her.
Me: Sorry man, just don’t let her be doing any heavy lifting. An ink bottle she can handle, anything heavier fight her tooth and nail if you have to.
A few minutes go by and I don’t receive any more texts, so I lay back down. I wake to the alarms sounding. I run out of my room and go into the bay. I get on my gear as fast as I can and jump into the fire engine. We take off like the hounds of hell are chomping at our feet. I notice several engines leaving the bay and know that this is going to be a big one.
“What have we got?” I call into my mic and ask the dispatcher.
“Four alarm fire at an office building. Four confirmed stuck inside with no way to escape. Rescue and extinguish is needed.”
“Thanks,” I reply and inform the crew.
“Fuck!” Jensen, my fellow firefighter says, “I hate knowing that people are stuck in something like this, they must be scared out of their minds.” I nod my head in agreement.
“Rig one on at the scene and on stand-by,” Sam calls into the mic. We pull up and seeing as we are the first responders, it’s our duty to make sure we get the location secure before the others enter the building.
I get my oxygen tank on and scan the perimeter looking for the best point of entry. When I ask for the specs of the building, I nearly lose my shit when I find out there’s a daycare center on the lower level. One of the trapped is a baby no older than six months of age. I can’t help but think of little Devon and what Ariel and Dillon would be going through if it was him trapped inside the burning structure.
My team goes in to search the lower level and begin putting out the inferno that is blazing. We make it through the lobby and begin going through the rooms one by one. When we enter the daycare center I immediately begin scanning beds, one of them is surrounded by debris and beams. I understand why the workers couldn’t get to the child. Jensen and I get to work on removing it, so we can rescue the poor kid. It takes us a few minutes to get the flames out and remove everything. The baby is limp in the bed, and I grab my rescue inhaler and place it over her face.
“Team two heading to second level,” I hear called into my mic. My only concern is getting this little girl out of here and to a medic for treatment. Jensen grabs her from my arms and runs for the door. I double check all of the beds and room and find no other children. I pray with everything in me, that she survives the smoke inhalation and she has no other injuries from the debris falling around her crib.
Once I’m one hundred percent satisfied that the room is clear, I make my way to the second floor to help. The further I go up, the more damage I encounter. I make it to there and begin to defuse the fire. It’s burning hot, but luckily there isn’t anyone on this floor. “Level two has no occupants in it,” I say into my mic, “moving to level three for search and rescue.”
“10-4,” is said into the mic from my chief who never comes in but stays at ground level work intake. “Level three clear,” I hear called into the mic by Dustin, so I keep moving to the fourth, once I hit the floor I call it in, “Moving to level four.” I open the door and see the men hard at work, so I begin my search for any survivors. I call out, “This is Marcus from the fire department, if you can hear me call out.” Nothing, so I keep moving from space to space, repeating myself. When I hit the back and go in the final room with Sam hot on my heels, I see feet sticking out from the desk. I quickly run over and pick the young woman up. I search for a pulse on my journey as I move through the floor. I see no sign of life, but I keep moving anyways. She may have only been out for a minute or so, and if she can be saved I will do everything I can to make sure she has the best chance. I didn’t s
top to check for a pulse, my job is to recover and remove from the scene. She has black soot all over her face, so I can’t tell what she looks like, but I can tell she’s young. I run down the stairs as quickly as I can with Sam calling it in as he runs behind me, “Chief says to get out of here, the building has been deemed unstable.
“Fuck!” I call out. When a building is deemed unstable, it means it could collapse on us all at any given time. As we make it to the first level, I can hear the structure giving out. The creak of boards and debris falling all around you gets your mind in survival mode. As I’m just a few feet in front of the lobby doors, the ceiling gives way, blocking my escape.
I hear my team running up behind me, Sam calls out, “We’re trapped, debris in front of the door and beams that are too heavy to be moved.”
“Let’s head to the back door,” Jensen calls out, I hadn’t realized that he’d made it back inside. He’s my best friend and closest confidant. I’ve known Jensen since I was in the service. We served together for six years, both of us no older than eighteen years old when we joined. We went through boot camp together and ended up serving in the same unit. He’s from here and actually is the one who talked me into moving this way. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have met Emory, I owe him everything for that alone.
We make it to the back door and I hand the woman to Jensen, who takes her out the door and around the front. My job is to be the first one on a scene and the last to clear it. I hold the door open and count my men as they leave, noticing we’re one short I call out, “Where’s Micah? Is he accounted for?”
“He hasn’t come out yet,” Chief calls back to me.
“Going back in,” I tell him. I will not leave one of my men behind.
“The structure isn’t stable, you have to exit now, Marcus.” My chief gives me the order. I can’t do it though, it’s ingrained in my soul to never leave a man behind.
Clean Slate: Diva's Ink Page 2