The Milestone Tapes

by Ashley Mackler-Paternostro

  Jenna wondered if there was something pretty on the other side of the industrial glass. Something that could challenge all the ugly that was said, and seen and done in this little benign room. The sort of view a person could take comfort in, knowing that the world was bigger than this little space, that their grief wasn’t the end of everything. She hoped so.

  “This is going to sound morbid Gabe, but I can’t think of how else to say this to you and make you understand ... I have been so busy living that I’d forgotten the clock was ticking against me. I can’t pretend anymore, and you can’t pretend anymore. We need to talk about this, there are things we need to figure out.”

  “And we will, I’m sure. I’m just asking you let me deal with one thing at a time,” Gabe returned to the chair he’d tipped over, righted it and sat back down. “I’m on overload, so please, just give me time to process one thing before you give me another.”

  Jenna turned away, bringing her arms to her lips, blinking back the tears that threatened her. She understood his point but that didn’t change anything; she wanted to talk to Gabe, to iron out the details she’d let slip over the past few months. But she’d give him what he was asking for now, she’d let it go for just a small while longer. What she accepted now was that there was never going to be a good time, but she’d wait for him to catch up to that realization as well.

  “Mrs. Chamberland?” A small knock proceeded the soft voice, as the knob on the door turned slightly.

  “Come in,” Jenna called from her bed as a tiny nurse with frizzy brown hair and thick glasses walked through the door. She looked young and slight, but her smile was disarmingly warm and sweet. She looked like a nurse, the sort of young person who could do this type of work, caring for other people.

  “Hi, Mrs. Chamberland, I’m Missy. I’m going to take you to run some tests, if that’s all right?” She continued to smile in a friendly way as she went to work snapping down the metal bed rails for Jenna to climb out of bed and into the wheelchair.

  “Sure, but please, call me Jenna and this is Gabe, my husband.” Jenna gestured to Gabe who had risen to his feet offering his arm to Jenna who was shifting out of bed.

  “Nice to meet you Gabe. I promise I’ll take good care of your wife. Jenna, this won’t take to terribly long, but I’m afraid we can’t have company where we’re going.” Her lips puckered into a frown, clearly the type of nurse who didn’t like to be the heavy and deliver the news that she’d have to go it alone. She looked new, this nurse, green and unseasoned, but sweet nonetheless.

  “That’s okay. We know the drill, right Gabe?” Jenna feebly smiled, attempting to the lighten the air. Gabe nodded slightly and helped Jenna into the wheelchair Missy had brought along with her.

  “See you soon,” Gabe breathed into Jenna’s ear as Missy slowly rolled away.

  ~ * * * ~

  “So, the findings are this,” Doctor Vaughn began as he sat beside the Jenna in the hospital room, Gabe on her other side, clutching her hand. “We have noted substantial growth in your tumors, and blood work shows decreased levels OF red blood cells, which accounts for last night’s episode—the lightheadedness, fainting. Needless to say, we aren’t happy about this progression.”

  Doctor Vaughn looked significantly too young to be a doctor. His crisp, neat, dark hair parted smoothly just to the left, his eyes a vivid, bright green behind stylish readers, his skin an unnatural tan for the inclement weather of Washington. He looked better suited for the classroom, a teacher or an adventurer. Yet, he was the best Oncologist in Seattle, highly sought after, regarded in glowing terms by patients and medical journals alike. Young, educated, tirelessly dedicated to his patients, his smile was easy, his bedside manner unmatched. Jenna had loved him instantly, trusted him entirely with her life.

  “What does that mean?” Gabe asked speculatively, searching Dr. Vaughn’s face for any hint of something positive beneath his serious demeanor.

  “It means a few things, but most importantly, Jenna,” the doctor continued, “we’re going to let you go home today. I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to Mia.” He smiled then, patting Jenna’s hand softly. He knew her well; he knew she’d be clamoring to go home, she hated hospitals and had told him as much on countless occasions; he had always made a conscious effort to respect her feelings, sending her home when he could.

  “We’re going to give you a new prescription, Epoetine Alfa. It’s going help stabilize your red blood cells and we’ll continue to monitor the situation. On the other side of things, I think now is the time to start considering the care we discussed a few months back.” Dr. Vaughn took his glasses off and rubbed the tender spot between his eyes. “I think we should seriously discuss pain management and maybe, if you’re willing, some fashion of home health care.” He looked between Jenna and Gabe, studying them, appraising their reactions.

  “I thought I had six months; it’s only been three—it’s only August,” Jenna objected.

  “Yes, and at the time I really believe that was what we were looking at. But sometimes the medication or treatments are more effective than we believe when they are doing the job half way but not entirely.” He splayed his fingers across the thick folder on his lap, re-crossing his legs.

  “The combination you were on, Jenna, should have entirely killed your cancer and treated you, you should have gone into remission. When you didn’t, and the cancer continue to grow, we agreed that what we were dealing with was no longer treatable with what we have to work with. Remission is always the goal, but of course, the science of Oncology is an imperfect thing. Between the chemotherapy, and everything else we tried, it should have worked. But it didn’t. We assumed, at the time, that your cancer was slow growing, and that even as it spread, you’d have significant time.

  “We didn’t know how much the treatments were helping you. It’s not an uncommon thing, but it’s exceedingly rare when we’re talking about someone like you, who was monitored as closely as you were. And for that, I’m truly sorry.” The straightforwardness of his answer hung loosely in the air of the small room.

  “So now?” Jenna pressed.

  Please say something, Jenna prayed. Give me something to hope for, don’t let be this simple and done.

  “Now,” Dr. Vaughn sighed and opened his folder, reading briefly through the text before continuing, “we keep you comfortable, we treat the symptoms.” A sad look crossed his face, like clouds rolling over a beautiful day.

  Dr. Henderson pushed off the wall she’d been standing against quietly, allowing the Chamberlands to speak with Dr. Vaughn. She, no doubt, had bitten her tongue during the exchange. Dr. Henderson was the only oncologist on staff at the local hospital, where her sense of godliness reigned. Jenna likened it to a sense of entitlement. She knew Dr. Henderson recoiled when they had, early on, insisted on seeking treatment in Seattle. She had said as much, seated across her wide mahogany desk, preaching the virtues of being treated close to home.

  “I think it’s best I resume taking care of you here Jenna, and I’ll continue to consult with Dr. Vaughn as needed,” she explained, her heels clicking against the floor as she approached, a smug smile of sorts pinched at the corners of her mouth, no doubt pleased at the prodigal patient returning.

  “Dr. Vaughn?” Jenna’s eyes popping open wide with surprise. She had never considered being handed off.

  “It makes more sense Jenna. I can’t find a single reason to ask you to continue making the trek to Seattle, when all your needs can be met closer to home.” He patted her hand before continuing. “But, of course, the choice is yours. You can always hire a live in caregiver, continue to come see me, but I urge you to consider all your options. You need to decide now what will work best for you. You have priorities, keep those in mind.”

  “I ... I need to think about this.” Jenna turned to Gabe, and his fingers inner laced with hers, holding tight. “Gabe?”

  “Jenna can go home, right?” Gabe asked, his words were strings pulled tight, formal
and tense.

  “Yes, I believe she’d be most comfortable there, and that is our primary concern, correct Dr. Henderson?” Dr. Vaughn spoke smoothly, including her in the decision making process.

  “I don’t see a reason not to let her go home for the time being,” Dr. Henderson seconded, hovering nearby.

  “Okay, then Jenna and I will go home and discuss all of this more. We’ll be in touch when we’ve made our choices.” Gabe closed the conversation to further opinion.

  “Good.” Dr. Vaughn stood and stretched subtly, and Jenna wondered fleeting if he’d driven in or taken a charter flight. “Jenna, Gabe.” He nodded once in their direction before taking leave out the door.

  “I do want to give you an additional script before you leave Jenna, something for the pain, just in case it becomes too much for you.” Dr. Henderson lingered. “I’ll make sure the outpatient nurses gives it you before you leave.” She squared her shoulders and walked out of the room without a backwards glance.

  “I still don’t like her,” Jenna hissed once she was assured the doctor was out of ear shot. “I do not want her in charge of me. I don’t care if I have to move to Seattle!”

  “Jen, be reasonable, we’ll sort this all out once we’ve had a chance to get some sleep. But trust me, you’re going to want to be at home, your home, I know you.” Gabe lifted a small overnight bag onto the foot of bed, carefully removing neatly folded clothes so she could change. Jenna didn’t recognize the bag or the tidy pile of sweats he laid out. It wasn’t the one she had packed just yesterday, it wasn’t what she was supposed to wear today. Resentment welled in her chest.

  Jenna knew what she had been putting it off, pretending wasn’t there, lurking black and evil. She had felt sore, worn out, there had been signals and warning signs. She hadn’t paid attention. She had skillfully ignored the way her muscles screamed out in protest in the morning, or the way she felt overcome with light- headedness only to find her nose dripping the tiniest droplets of crimson blood. She had just wanted the time so badly, that as it passed, she never acknowledged it.

  She felt better in her own clothes, the soft shift of the worn sweats made her feel more human. Gabe had excused himself to find Sophia so they could go home. Jenna gathered her few belongings scattered about the room. She couldn’t find her beautiful nightgown, the one she’d splurged on for their weekend away. It had been so unlike her to gravitate towards the silky shift of the floral haze, but she loved the way the pastel blooms scattered, as though tossed, down the length of the gown. It must have been beyond saving, she shuddered at the thought. Gabe, Sophia or a welling meaning nurse simply disposing of it, taking away the tactile evidence of her breakdown. It was all the same, Jenna defended, she knew there were certain clothes you wore during certain times that you could just never wear again.

  “Jenna?” Sophia knocked softly at the door, poking her head through a narrow opening.

  “I’m almost ready.” Jenna spun, surveying the room, mentally tabulating the belongings, checking for anything she’d overlooked.

  “No rush, honey.” She pushed the door open further and crossed the distance between them. “Gabe’s signing you out and pulling the car around, so you have time.”

  “Oh, okay.” Jenna sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the weekender onto her lap.

  “How are you feeling?” Sophia asked, sitting down beside her.

  “Numb? Scared?” Jenna looked at her sister with wide eyes; she wasn’t sure how she felt. “How did Mom do it?”

  “I don’t know.” Sophia shook her head slowly. “She was just strong, I guess. She had her faith, up until the end and I think she found lots of comfort in that. I never saw her cry, did you know that? Even when Daddy left, she just carried on.”

  “Do you think she knew, you know, that the end was coming?”

  “I do. But she didn’t let that hold her, you know? Things were different then, she didn’t have all the things you have, but I think she tried.”

  “What was it like?” Jenna wondered out loud.

  “It was peaceful. After Daddy left, the Church brought in that nurse from the local chapter. She stayed with Mom, and helped her and me. Mom talked a lot. I’d sit in bed with her, and we’d just talk.” Sophia’s voice was wistful, her eyes unfocused, like she was miles away.

  “I miss her so much.” Jenna wiped a stray tear from cheek with the back of her hand.

  “I miss her, too. Are you going to tell Mia?” Sophia asked quietly.

  “I guess I have too now,” Jenna sighed. “I just wanted her to have a normal childhood, at least for a little while. I didn’t want her to have to deal with this. It’s not fair, she’s just a baby—she’s six years old.”

  “It’s hard.” Sophia nodded in agreement beside her.

  “When I got pregnant with her, oh, it was the best time of my life. I had all of these plans. I’d parent, and be the heavy and then one day, we’d be best friends.” Jenna looked up at the stucco ceiling and shook her head. “I waited so long to have a child because I wanted her to have a good life, an established life. I didn’t want her to know anything about struggle ... and it was all for nothing now because she’ll know everything about struggle and pain and loss.”

  “It wasn’t for nothing, Jenna.” Sophia patted her hand softly.

  “Really? Do you believe that? What kills me is that if we’d done this earlier ... I would have had time.”

  “It’s not about how much time you have, it’s what you do with that time that matters.”

  “How do I tell her? Look into her little face and say Mommy is dying?”

  “I don’t know, Jen, but I think you’ll figure it out as you go along.”

  Sophia pulled Jenna into a hug, wrapping her arms around her and burying her face into Jenna’s shoulder.

  “I’m ready, should we go find Gabe?” She pulled out of the strong hug and looped her arms through Sophia’s, heading towards the door.

  ~ * * * ~

  “Aunt Sophia!” Mia burst out the door onto the wide planked front porch. “Where have you been? We were supposed to go to Hoh hours ago!” Mia’s petulant voice raised with authority. It wasn’t until she saw Jenna slip from the passenger seat that a questioning look crossed her face.

  “Mia,” Jenna greeted her, taking a knee on the front porch, straightening the hem of Mia’s shirt, pulling Mia in close. Jenna buried her face in Mia’s hair, capturing the scent of innocence, memorizing the way her little body felt in her arms, committing it all to memory.

  “Momma? I thought you were going away this weekend?” her daughter questioned, tilting her head to the side in thought.

  “Yes, we were. But, something came up instead. I was wondering if you’d like to take a walk with me,” Jenna looked closely at Mia’s face, memorizing the way her eyes flashed, the faint peppering of freckles that crossed the bridge of her nose, spilling across her full, berry pink cheeks. What a beautiful daughter she had, she thought wistfully.

  “Aunt Sophia, are we still going to the rain forest?” Mia looked past Jenna to Sophia who was standing solemnly beside the bumper of the minivan, waiting patiently.

  “Not today, honey,” Sophia answered quietly, looking down at the driveway.

  “Okay, Mama, I’ll go for a walk,” Mia gave in with an easy shrug, reaching out to take Jenna’s hand.

  “Not far, Jenna,” Sophia advised, watching them with speculative eyes.

  “Not far,” Jenna agreed simply, stuffing down her instinct to take Mia and run. Run away from all of this, hide from the conversation that was coming, that would blow up the safe little world Mia lived in now. If only it was a real option, she’d run forever.

  Grasping Mia’s small hand in her own, Jenna headed towards the small path that led into the thicket of woods that bordered the lot. Keeping pace with her daughter, they walked leisurely, swaddled in a canopy of leafy green. The earth smelt damp and organic, like rotting wood, freshly cut grass and sea brine. Jenna lead Mia towards
the steep row of stone stairs leading down to the dash of beach that belonged to the Chamberlands. Slowly, they approached the landing. Settling beside the sea cliff on a patch of fallen pine needles, Jenna opened her arms for Mia to climb inside.

  “Did you have a nice day, honey?” Jenna tucked Mia’s head under the crook of her chin, smoothing her hair.

  “Sure. We played a game and watched some TV and Ginny made us lunch.” Mia relaxed her arms. It was as if she were a baby again, the way it used to be, when they would snuggle together with a book, rocking in the wooden chair by the window.

  “That’s good.”

  “Did you have a good day, Momma?”

  “It’s better now that I’m home ... with you. Mia, honey, I have something very important to tell you, and you’re going to need to be very brave,” Jenna began, searching the words for something that would help make sense of all of this. “I’m sick, Mia.”

  “Oh, Mommy, I know. You’ve been sick for a long time.” Mia turned her face towards Jenna, snuggling deeper into her chest.

  “Yes, but, this time it’s different. I’m not getting better honey; it might seem that way to you, because I’m not sick like I was, but I’m not getting better.” Jenna ran her fingers through her daughter's hair, looking out over the bay, watching the ferries pull into the harbor, the gulls swoop the coast line, life going on about its business.

  “What do you mean?” Mia asked, puzzled.

  “I mean, baby, that in a few months, I won’t be here anymore. I’m going to go to Heaven, and I’ll watch over you there.” Jenna shoved her face into the curly mass of unruliness crowning Mia’s head, hiding her tears, trying to be strong.

  “Momma, is heaven where Grandma Elizabeth is?” Mia whimpered.

  “Yes, baby.”

  Jenna knew where Mia was going, they’d talked about Heaven and death and Grandma Elizabeth before, the dots would connect for Mia now, she’d say the words. Jenna felt sick.