The Halo Series Boxed Set

by Kimberly Knight

  “It’s rare,” I confirmed.

  He smiled warmly. “That’s what I gathered. Needless to say, it needs to come out.”

  “What about chemo?” I asked. I’d heard chemotherapy may shrink tumors.

  “Dr. Bloom and I talked about all the options you may have available. He said that after your last surgery, your case was evaluated by the tumor review board and they suggested radiation—”

  “But Dr. Bloom sent me to have a consultation with a chemo doctor. Why would he do that if this board suggested only radiation?” This was the first I’d heard my case was sent to a review board.

  “It’s my understanding that it was reviewed after he sent you to those consultations.”

  I shook my head. “No, the chemo doctor didn’t think chemo was the answer because I wanted children.” I wasn’t sure why I’d asked about chemo. I still wanted children. However, I didn’t want to keep going through surgery after surgery.

  He looked to Easton and then back to me. “Do you still want children?”

  If he only knew. I looked to Easton, and he gave me a reassuring smile. “Yeah,” I answered.

  “Then chemo is still not the answer. We don’t want to pump you full of toxins that may be harmful to your future children.”

  I felt like crying. I didn’t want chemo any more than Dr. Simon or Dr. Bloom wanted to prescribe it for me. I just wanted a baby.

  “So more radiation?” Easton asked.

  Dr. Simon turned to him. “No. Brooke has had her lifetime maximum exposure.”

  “I have?” Again this was all new to me. It confused me because if I couldn’t have chemo or radiation, then what was the answer? Surgery every two years? I wanted to wake up from my nightmare.

  He turned his body back to me. “You have, but it seems it didn’t work given the tumor came back.”

  “I didn’t think I was getting that much. I mean, I went for six weeks, but I didn’t think that was the maximum.”

  “I’ll double-check, but I’m certain you have. Plus, it didn’t work, and this tumor needs to come out. It’s growing faster than the previous one.”

  I stared at him, another bomb thrown at me. “What? But I’m not in pain like before.”

  “It’s bigger than the last one, too.”

  And another …

  I felt my eyes widen and I looked to Easton again as if he could give me the answers I wanted to hear. Easton shook his head. Dr. Simon turned to his computer and pressed some keys.

  “Okay, so your first tumor was three centimeters. This one is five.”

  “Five?”

  And another …

  “Your last CT shows that the area is five centimeters. And given that a year ago they reported it was likely scar tissue, it confirms it’s growing faster than the one you had removed.”

  Easton stepped over to me and started to rub my back. “So you do surgery to remove it and then what?”

  Dr. Simon returned his attention to us again. “I’ve done research, and it seems no one knows why they grow or regrow. And since last time they left positive margins, I want to remove anything that it’s touching, including ribs—”

  I felt as though I was going to throw up. “You want to remove my ribs?”

  “Not all of them, only the ones the tumor is touching. I want to get all the margins and hope that by getting it all, it doesn’t come back again.”

  Easton continued to rub circles on my back as I leaned into him. I just wanted to wake up from my nightmare already.

  Dr. Simon leaned slightly forward in his chair toward us and placed his hands on his knees. “I’m going to send you to have an MRI so we know exactly where the tumor is located. Right now, it shows it’s touching your T1 nerve, and I want to see by how much and if we need to cut it.”

  I stared at him, unable to speak.

  “How will cutting the nerve affect her?” Easton asked.

  Dr. Simon shrugged. “Your T1 nerve, which is also called the Ulnar nerve, runs from here,” he brought a finger up to where his collarbone was, “down the inside of your bicep, to the inside of your forearm and to your pinky and part of your ring finger.” I watched his hand make the path of the nerve. “I had a patient who was left with a claw hand after I cut her T1 nerve.”

  My eyes shot up to his. “A claw hand?”

  “There’s a chance you’ll lose all function in those two fingers when we cut the nerve.”

  “I need those fingers. I need that hand. I’m right handed,” I cried.

  “It’s not for sure if it will happen, but I had to let you know the risks.”

  “So what you’re saying,” Easton spoke, “is you’ll go in to remove the tumor, some of her ribs, and possibly cut a nerve that will turn her hand into a claw?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Is there anything else we can do? We just got married, and we want to have a baby. I can’t imagine caring for a newborn with one hand,” I pleaded.

  “Again, I won’t know more until I see the MRI and get in there.”

  I looked up at Easton with pleading eyes then took a deep breath. “What if you go in and remove as much of the tumor as you can without cutting the nerve? Then in a few years, after we’ve had a baby, we can go back in and remove the rest.” I was begging.

  “Since we don’t know what we’re dealing with, I can’t promise you that.”

  “But that’s what I want,” I stated.

  Dr. Simon searched my eyes. “Are you sure?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, and then maybe we can take the chemo approach after we have a baby.”

  He looked over to Easton, and silent understanding crossed between them.

  “Okay, if that’s what you want, but I advise taking an aggressive approach given the cancer is growing faster.”

  Easton’s hand stilled at the C word, and it felt as though my eyes literally bugged out of my head. I was living in a dream. “Cancer?” I asked. “I thought it wasn’t cancer?”

  Easton pulled me to his side.

  “The research I read says that they don’t know for sure. While it seems desmoid tumors don’t spread, they’re life-threatening because they don’t know if more will grow somewhere else or how big they can potentially grow. In that sense, I would say it’s cancer.”

  I tried to follow his logic. “Okay, well it needs to come out, but I don’t want you cutting the nerve until after we have a baby.”

  “All right. I’ll have my staff schedule the MRI and surgery.”

  I’d like to tell you my MRI was exciting. It wasn’t. I went in, stayed still in the machine for what felt like forever and then left.

  One down, one to go.

  I hadn’t been sleeping since the news, and during the day, I put on a brave face. I didn’t want Cheyenne to know how scared I was. Hell, I didn’t want my sister or Nicole to know either. I also kept from them everything Dr. Simon said except that the tumor was growing faster and was bigger. If I wasn’t worried, then they shouldn’t be either. But reality was that I was freaking the fuck out.

  I had cancer.

  Today was surgery day.

  After checking in, I waited a few minutes and then I was brought back to have IVs stuck in my hands. I hated IVs. Not only did they hurt, but they’re especially annoying when they need to be in you for days.

  Easton wasn’t allowed back until she finished. I didn’t understand why. Wasn’t like he would tell her she was doing her job wrong. Maybe policy or some shit.

  I engaged in small talk with the nurse to try and help me forget what was happening. I changed into a gown, had hospital socks on, and afterward, the nurse put IVs in the top of my hands and wrapped compression tube things on my legs. I was ready physically. Emotionally was a different story. I wasn’t ready to go under the knife again. I wasn’t ready to be cut open and in pain again. I wasn’t ready for any of the shit life was throwing at me.

  The nurse left for a few minutes, and when she came back, Easton was followi
ng her.

  He smiled at me as he sat in a chair beside the bed. “Gangs all here.”

  “Who?”

  “Everyone. Avery, Nicole, Bailee, Gary—”

  “Gary?” I questioned.

  “Yeah. Something’s going on there.” He smiled.

  “You think?” I laughed.

  “Even if there wasn’t, he’s still here to support us.”

  “I guess that’s true. There is something going on, though.”

  “I’ll find out.” He winked at me and then leaned in and kissed the top of my head. “As I was saying, those four are here plus my parents and, of course, Chey.”

  “Did Bailee call my mother again?” Bailee was the reason my mom knew I’d had a tumor and was in the hospital the first time around.

  Easton rubbed the back of his neck. “She—”

  Before he could finish, a different nurse stuck his head in the curtain. “All ready to go, Brooke?”

  “I guess so,” I lied. How could you be ready knowing you’re about to be cut open and ribs removed? You could tell yourself and everyone else that you’re ready, but reality was, you would never be mentally prepared. Anything could happen on the table—anything.

  “Well, let’s go. Dr. Briggs is ready to administer the epidural.”

  “We’ll all be here when you get out,” Easton said and leaned down to kiss my lips. “You got this, Superwoman.”

  I fought back tears. I knew he thought I was strong, but I wasn’t. I was pretending to be when in reality I wanted to rip the IVs from my hands and never step foot in a hospital again.

  The male nurse unlocked the bed and wheeled me out toward the operating room. I stared up at the ceiling, watching the florescent lights pass as we moved. It wasn’t until I knew for sure that we weren’t near Easton that I finally let myself feel.

  Tears rolled down my cheeks as the minutes ticked.

  I could count on my hand how many times I’d cried as an adult.

  Today was one of those days.

  I watched the nurse wheel Brooke away. When the doors closed, and I could no longer see the bed, I choked up. Tears dripped from my eyes, and I wanted to scream. Life had a way of grabbing you by the balls and dragging you around like you were its puppet. One minute Brooke and I were talking about having a baby, and the next her new surgeon was telling us he felt as though she had cancer. But Brooke was strong. She was stronger than me in so many ways. She could put on a front in front of everyone, but my heart was breaking, so I knew hers was too.

  I gave myself a few minutes to gain my composure before I walked into the waiting room where I knew my family and friends were. When I stepped through the double doors, all eyes turned to me.

  “How’s she doing?” my mother asked.

  I gave a tight smile and walked over to sit in my seat. “Hanging in there.”

  “They’re doing the surgery now?” Nicole asked.

  “Yeah.” I swallowed hard.

  “Let’s go grab breakfast. Surgery should be a few hours, right?” my dad asked.

  “Yeah.” I really had no other words.

  Cheyenne stepped over to me and wrapped her arms around my waist. “We need to get her red roses.”

  I looked down at my baby girl. “We will, Peanut.”

  During breakfast, I kept checking my phone to make sure the hospital hadn’t called. The gang and I had walked a few blocks to a diner, and I didn’t want to miss a call. I was told the surgery would be about six hours, but if anything were to happen, I wanted to be there waiting.

  “So, you two?” Nicole asked and moved her finger between Bailee and Gary.

  They looked at each other and then Bailee turned back to Nicole. “Us two what?”

  “You guys a thing?”

  They looked at each other again and then Bailee returned her attention back to Nicole. “We’re just friends.”

  “Friends with—”

  Avery cut his eyes to his wife and then nudged his head toward Cheyenne.

  Nicole continued, “You know.”

  Bailee and Gary both chuckled but didn’t answer. Their non-answer was the answer. There was more to their story, but I had my own to think about.

  After we had eaten, we grabbed coffee to take back with us to the hospital. We still had at least four more hours before Brooke was due out of surgery. My parents were each reading, and the rest of us were on our phones. I tried to pass the time, but there was only so much Candy Crush I could play before I got bored. Cheyenne was watching a movie on her phone and I kicked myself for not remembering to bring my headphones to use with Netflix. Something to pass the time instead of thinking about Dr. Simon cutting my wife open.

  The day before we’d met with him to go over everything for today. He said he’d cut open her back and remove the tumor that way. Since it was touching ribs and whatever else, he couldn’t go in with a scope. Her situation was no longer minimally invasive, it was major.

  “So I have something to tell you all,” I started but then stopped when I saw Brooke’s mom walk into the waiting room. She was with Stan, of course. All eyes turned to see who I was looking at.

  “Sorry we’re late. We’re not used to all this traffic, and the taxi took forever from the airport,” she said.

  I stood and gave her a hug, and then shook Stan’s hand. It was the least I could do. Brooke still wasn’t sold on her mother trying to be in her life, and I wasn’t either. That didn’t mean I had to be rude to them.

  “You got in this morning?” Bailee asked, standing to greet her mother.

  “We took a red-eye when Stan got off of work last night.” Everyone greeted each other and then Beverly turned back to me. “How’s she doing?”

  I shrugged. “We don’t know anything yet.”

  She nodded and took a seat next to Stan. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me again.”

  “Let’s not start this shit again. Brooke doesn’t tell anyone the bad. I didn’t know last time until right before,” Bailee affirmed.

  I looked at the clock on the wall next to the TV. “I think they have a few more hours to go. Why don’t you two go get something to eat or some coffee?” They agreed and left, returning just as Dr. Simon walked through the double doors.

  I stood and moved toward him. “Doc …”

  “Brooke is doing well.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. My dad placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze, reminding me I wasn’t alone for this.

  “Let’s have a seat.” He gestured for me to sit in the seat that was near the double doors and my heart stopped. This wasn’t a good sign. “For all intents and purposes, the surgery went well. I was able to go in and remove a lot of the tumor, but it was touching three of her ribs and part of her right lung, too.”

  “Her lung?” I asked.

  “Yes, I had to completely remove three of her ribs and parts of two more.” He was indicating on his body the area where the ribs were that he removed. It appeared to be the ones near her collarbone. “The tumor is wrapped around the T1 nerve that we talked about. I didn’t cut the nerve as Brooke instructed, but it does need to come out. If we don’t remove all of the tumor, I’m certain it will tighten around the nerve and grow against other parts of her chest.”

  I heard my group suck in their breaths and a few gasps. “What does that mean?” my dad asked.

  Dr. Simon looked to him and then back at me. “She’ll lose her arm if we don’t stop it from growing.”

  I woke groggy and not exactly sure where I was. When I turned my head to the right, I saw a door. I wasn’t expecting to see a door. I was expecting to see a curtain or something around my bed because I thought I’d wake up in recovery.

  When I turned my head to the right, I saw my sleeping husband on what looked like a super hard couch. Easton’s knees were bent as he slept curled in the fetal position. The couch was too small for his six-two frame and no one else was in the room. I stared at Easton until he woke up.

  “H
ey,” he said, stretching the best he could. “How are you feeling?” He stood and walked over to me, kissing me on the forehead before I responded.

  “Tired.”

  “Probably all the meds like last time.”

  “How long have I been out of surgery?”

  Easton looked to a clock near the door and then back to me. “About eight hours.”

  “Best night of sleep I’ve had in a long time,” I joked.

  He smiled. “Dr. Simon should be here shortly. Do you need anything?”

  I thought for a moment. “Water.”

  He poured a cup from the plastic pitcher and handed it to me. I took a sip and the cool liquid felt like heaven on my throat.

  “You hungry?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  He cracked a smile. “You don’t want any grapes?”

  I smiled back. He remembered that was all I ate last time. “Not right now.”

  “How’s my patient?” I looked toward the door and saw Dr. Simon walk in.

  “I’m okay. Did you get all of the tumor?”

  He looked toward Easton. “You haven’t discussed our conversation?”

  My eyes darted between the two men.

  “She just woke up.”

  “No, you just woke,” I affirmed.

  Dr. Simon pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat. Easton stayed standing. “Surgery went well, but the tumor’s wrapped around the T1 nerve.”

  “What?” I blinked.

  “I removed three ribs, parts of two more, and part of your right lung, but I wasn’t able to get the entire tumor because it’s wrapped around the nerve and I need to cut the root to remove it.” Time felt as though it stood still. A ringing sounded in my ears as I processed what he was telling me. “If we don’t remove it, you’ll eventually lose your arm.”

  I looked toward Easton for confirmation and he sighed with a slight nod.

  Dr. Simon continued. “We spoke about the claw hand before, but I wanted to let you know of another possibility. Because the nerve connects to your cervical spine, there’s also a chance you’ll be left with what’s called Horner’s syndrome.”