by Amanda Tru
“Geneva, you know that sometimes God’s plan and answer isn’t the one we think is best,” Sydney spoke gently.
Geneva rolled her eyes. “Sydney, this isn’t my first rodeo. I know that patients die. I’ve been there when it happened. I’ve delivered the news to the family. But this isn’t that situation. Everything in me knows that Allie will live.”
Sydney was quiet, and after a few moments, Geneva grew weary and stood from the couch to leave once again. “I don’t know why you look so concerned, Sydney, but it’s really annoying! You come here wanting me to spill my guts. I do, and you look like I just delivered the news that the sky is falling!”
Sydney wet her lips with uncharacteristic hesitation. “Geneva, you are one of the smartest people I know, and that’s saying a lot. My concern is over the fact that you’ve always been stupid at knowing yourself.”
Geneva blinked in shock, and then remembered she was talking to Sydney. She shouldn’t be surprised at her sister being blunt. Sydney didn’t beat around the bush unless she had an ulterior motive.
“If I weren’t so exhausted, I’d demand an explanation for your insult, but I’m probably too tired and ‘stupid’ to understand it. I’m going to bed.”
Sydney groaned and stood. “Geneva, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean it as an insult. It’s just that I’m worried about you. You are not, nor have you ever been, an easy person to understand. You’re complicated. You can’t expect everyone to know the inner-workings of your mind and emotions when you don’t even understand them yourself. Do you know why you almost have two different personalities—the work Geneva and the play Geneva? Do you know why you can’t admit that there’s only ever been one man you’ve ever loved—and that you love him still? Do you know why you can’t conceive of the possibility that you won’t be able to save Allie?”
Geneva’s throat tightened. She couldn’t sort through everything Sydney just spewed out, and her mind focused on the last question. “I will save Allie, Sydney. You’ll see.”
Sydney nodded, her face suddenly appearing exhausted and resigned. “I know, Geneva. I just want you to know that I will be there when you need me.”
Geneva turned and left for her bedroom, thinking that a rather strange thing for Sydney to say. Geneva had never needed Sydney before. She was the independent type. She never asked for help from anyone but tackled adversity head-on. Yet, the way Sydney said it made it sound like more than a shallow platitude.
Geneva had just turned out the light and slipped into bed when she realized the most disturbing part. Sydney hadn’t said that she would be here if Geneva needed her. She’d said when.
Geneva rolled over to her side and firmly shut her eyes on the day. Geneva Hutchins could handle whatever the coming months might bring, and she stubbornly determined that Sydney’s ‘when’ would never happen.
Five Months Later
“This isn’t working,”
Geneva opened the door as the sentence came out of Carter’s mouth. She didn’t know the context at all, and yet, instant anger shot up like a geyser at the terrified look on Kara’s face.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Geneva said stiffly, taking a position across from Kara on the other side of Allie’s bed. “We had an emergency, and since this wasn’t a regularly scheduled appointment, I got here as soon as I could.”
Her implication was clear—Carter was the one in the wrong here. Kara had called Geneva in a panic today because Carter had said he wanted to discuss Allie’s progress when he made his hospital rounds that evening. He’d suggested seeing if Geneva could swing by as well.
Allie was currently hospitalized following her latest treatment. The poor, little girl was weak, dehydrated, and not eating. While Geneva fully intended to come by to see her patient that night anyway, she didn’t really appreciate being put on an abridged timeline for Carter’s impromptu appointment. To make matters worse, he started without her and threw an ugly line out there for Kara to absorb without any support with her.
“You didn’t miss anything,” Carter assured. “I was just starting to explain Allie’s most recent numbers to Kara and our conclusion that this treatment isn’t working.”
Geneva really wanted to argue with him. She didn’t like the words “our conclusion.” That made everything sound so final. However, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she could not in good conscience disagree with Carter’s assessment. The current treatment was not even remotely working, and it seemed to be zapping what little strength Allie had left.
“What do we try next?” Kara asked nervously. “What’s the next trial on the list?”
Carter looked at Geneva, and she couldn’t mask the tortured look she sent back.
They were out of options.
“Kara, we’re running out of possibilities,” Carter admitted gently. “And we’re running out of time.”
“There has to be more,” Kara said desperately. “The last one we did a couple months ago seemed better. Allie wasn’t so sick. Maybe we can go back to that one. Or do another transplant.”
Geneva shut her eyes briefly and swallowed. She shouldn’t let Carter take the full brunt of this explanation. Pulling her white jacket a little tighter about her shoulders, Geneva stuffed her emotions down and turned to her friend. “Kara, the last trial didn’t work any better than this one. The difference is that this is a progressive disease, and Allie’s body isn’t the same as it was even a few weeks ago. In her current condition, she is not a good candidate for another stem cell transplant.”
“We’ve also exhausted all of the resources for medical trials that are currently in progress,” Carter explained professionally.
“What does that mean?” Kara whispered.
Geneva’s heart wrenched. “It means that we have some decisions to make. Medically, we aren’t able to find a cure at this juncture. That doesn’t mean we are giving up on our miracle. However, we can certainly change our tactics of treatment to prolong life while we wait for that miracle.”
“Prolong, but not save?” Kara asked brokenly, the tears squeezing out of her eyes and her sobs brimming just below the surface.
“This time, it doesn’t appear that we are the ones in charge of the saving,” Carter’s eyes shone with warmth and compassion.
“What are the new treatment options?” Kara asked, setting her chin and trying to gain control. “Are there procedures involved, or will you just change her medications?”
“I don’t want more medicine,” the hoarse whisper came from the mound of white sheets and pillows.
The three adults startled, not realizing that Allie was awake. She slept more than she was awake in recent days, so they had just assumed she was resting as usual.
Geneva quickly assessed the little girl’s pale face and trembling lips. Allie had long ago lost her hair. While they had a myriad of wigs and pretty scarves, now her bald head lay against the sheets, almost matching their white color. Allie looked deathly ill, her lovely features strained in pain. She looked as if she might cry if her body could actually muster up the energy and resources to form tears.
Allie was at her limit. No discussion of treatment or medication would prove beneficial to her ears but would only stress a child who had already been through enough.
Geneva smiled in reassurance at Allie and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Dr. Solomon, why don’t you take Kara to your office to discuss a few options. Since my girl, Allie, is awake, we need to have a little visiting time with no talk about medicine.”
The other two adults left, and Geneva sat on the edge of Allie’s bed. “What do you want, Allie? I can get some pink jello sent up, and we can play a card game if you feel up to it!”
But Allie didn’t look at Geneva as she spoke. Instead, she fixed her eyes out the window at the bare, skeleton trees of December, their branches reaching to meet the gray sky.
“I want snow,” Allie said softly.
Geneva followed Allie’s gaze and wished the narrow window offered
a broader view of the outside world. “Well, I haven’t seen any snow in the forecast yet, but hopefully by Christmas!” Truthfully, the weather had been unseasonably warm, and they didn’t yet have the first proper snowfall of the year. While some wondered if winter would ever arrive, Allie wasn’t alone in her desire for a blanket of white to cover the stark grays and browns of the dull landscape.
“No,” Allie said, turning to look at Geneva. “Remember the day we had ice cream and you asked me what I wanted for tomorrow or the day after tomorrow? I said I didn’t know what I wanted. But I know now.”
Geneva remembered. It was the day back in the summer when they’d told Kara and Allie that it was highly probable that the cancer was terminal. Geneva had been searching for some wish to grant for Allie, but the little girl hadn’t come up with anything.
“What do you want tomorrow, Allie?” Geneva asked again, knowing that whatever Allie wanted, she’d move heaven and earth to make it happen.
Allie’s forehead suddenly wrinkled, and a shadow came over her face. “Dr. Gen, I don’t want any more medicine.”
Though she hadn’t really answered the question, Geneva felt the significance of Allie’s response. This wasn’t just a child not wanting to choke down a teaspoon of yucky medicine. She was talking about more. This was an adult discussion, and Allie wanted to have her say.
Geneva respected and loved her enough not to answer trivially but to allow the words their full significance. “Allie, do you know what that means? Your mom and Dr. Solomon are talking about trying some new medication since the other isn’t working. If you don’t take any more—”
“I’ll die,” Allie finished.
Geneva looked at her steadily, keeping eye contact and trying to feel every thought and emotion Allie experienced. “Yes, you will,” Geneva replied evenly. “God is the one in charge. That doesn’t mean that He can’t still heal you, but according to all of what we know about the body and cancer, you won’t get to stay and grow up here on earth.”
“I know that. But the medicine can’t make the cancer go away, only God can. If God wants me to go to heaven with Him, I don’t want the medicine making me feel even sicker anymore while I’m still here.”
Geneva felt the tears burning her eyes, barely managing to hold them back. She nodded. “You are a very wise young lady, Allie.”
Allie smiled at the compliment, and her eyes began to sparkle. “I know what I want tomorrow,” she said excitedly.
“Oh, really?” Geneva asked, amused that they made it back to her question. Allie hadn’t forgotten. She just had her own way of getting to where she was going.
“I want Christmas! And Christmas with snow. Lots and lots of snow! I just love the snow.”
Geneva’s heart sank just a little. That was one wish she couldn’t grant. She had no control of the weather, and the One who controlled it didn’t seem favorable to her requests lately. According to the long-range weather report, December in Crossroads would be as dry as the Sahara in summer.
“We can definitely pray for that,” Geneva said, hating the pretend hope in her voice.
Allie turned to look at the window as if hoping to see her requested snow falling right then. “I also want to see my daddy,” she added solemnly.
Geneva kept her breathing steady, but she struggled. How do you react when an eight-year-old confesses her dying wishes as snow for Christmas and her dead-beat, absent father? Geneva kept her tone gentle and optimistic, even as desperation and helplessness threatened to suffocate her.
“Tell me about your dad, Allie.”
Allie’s energy seemed to be holding for the moment, and she wanted to talk. Geneva wanted to give her the opportunity to talk about things she may not want to say for fear of hurting her mother.
Allie’s white face broke into the biggest smile Geneva had seen in a long time. “My daddy likes to play with me. We used to play tag outside and Old Maid inside. He played babies with me, and we liked to sing and dance together. He’d sing songs and dance me all around the living room.”
“That sounds like a lot of fun,” Geneva said encouragingly.
Allie thought for a moment, then she said suddenly, “Have you ever gone on a roller coaster, Dr. Gen?”
Geneva was accustomed to Allie’s abrupt changes in conversation. Sometimes they didn’t make sense, but if you followed her, they somehow always came back around, and you could trace her train of thought.
Not even blinking at the question, Geneva answered, “Yes, I have. Roller coasters are a blast!”
Allie nodded. “I got to go on a roller coaster once. It was at a fair before Daddy left. We went on it four times! It was so much fun! At the fair, they also had a bunch of games with prizes you can win. One game had these huge bears that were as big as me! It looked like a really easy game. You just had to throw a basketball into a hoop, and my daddy is really good at basketball. He wanted to do the game and win me one of the big kitties, but Mom wouldn’t let him. She said it cost too much money, and he wouldn’t win. Do you know how much money those big kitties are, Dr. Gen?”
“No, I don’t know,” Geneva replied honestly. “Usually, you have to pay to play those games, and then they try to make it really hard so that you lose your money and don’t get the prize.”
“That’s what Mom said, but I think Daddy would have won.” Allie’s features set with conviction.
“It sounds like you really love your daddy,” Geneva said, aching for Allie. The little girl hadn’t seen him in over two years, and he’d left her when she needed him most. Yet that didn’t seem to diminish her love or dedication to him in the least.
“He’s a really good daddy,” Allie reported confidently. “Mom said he left because he had a job to earn some money. I haven’t talked to him in a long time. I think he really left because he didn’t like to see me sick. We couldn’t play as much when I got cancer, and he worried it would hurt me and make me tired if we did too much. I don’t know why he didn’t come back when I got better so we could play. Now I think maybe he won’t come back at all because I’m sick again. I want him to come. I want to kiss his whiskers and tell him I love him.”
Despite all of her training and monumental effort to shove her emotions in a very tight box deep inside, Geneva felt tears threatening to race down her cheeks. Allie was so wise beyond her years. Kara had never told her the real reason Jimmy had left, and yet Allie knew it without being told. Amazingly, she didn’t resent her dad, but she still waited with open arms for his return.
I can’t fix this, Lord! I don’t know where to find this man! I can’t make this better for her.
“Allie, why don’t I pray for all of your tomorrows and ask God to work a few miracles for us?” Geneva managed, realizing that prayer was the only thing she could actually do to help.
Allie shook her head back and forth against her pillow. “No, Dr. Gen, let me ask God.”
Before Geneva could respond, Allie bowed her head, closed her lashless eyelids, and spoke solemnly. “Dear Jesus, I think I may get to meet you soon, but I don’t really want to leave my mom and dad. Please take care of them always, and if you have time, I’d like a few things before you take me to heaven. Can you please make it snow lots and lots for Christmas? Also, can you send my daddy home? I want him to sing me one more song. Amen.”
Trying to hide her sobs, Geneva bent down and kissed Allie’s forehead. “Amen.”
“Why are you crying, Dr. Gen?” Allie asked in concern.
“Because that was the most beautiful prayer I think I’ve ever heard,” Geneva answered honestly. “And because I love you so much. I wish I could grant all of your wishes for tomorrow.”
“That’s okay, Dr. Gen. God loves me, too, and I think He’s probably more qualified.”
Geneva burst out laughing. “I think you’re right! But sometimes, it’s awfully hard for me to remember that!”
Geneva shut the door softly behind her. She hated to leave Allie sleeping, but she needed to talk wit
h both Carter and Kara.
Allie had reached the end of her energy. With a fresh dose of pain medication and a bowl of pink gelatin, she soon fell asleep once again. Geneva had studied her chart as she slept, wishing the numbers were different and wishing she’d been able to get Allie to eat more than just gelatin. Hopefully, Kara would have more luck convincing her to eat when Allie woke next.
After making sure that Allie slept peacefully with all pillows in the most comfortable position, Geneva had tiptoed out of the room. Now she hurried down the hall to Carter’s office. Kara hadn’t yet returned to Allie’s room, which she hoped meant that they were still discussing the plan, and Carter hadn’t yet left for the day.
With a soft knock, Geneva opened the door. Sure enough. Carter sat behind his desk while Kara ministered to her tear-streaked face in front of it.
“Allie is sleeping,” she announced. “Do we have a plan?”
“Sort of,” Carter said with a frown. “Unfortunately, we don’t have good options. All treatments and medications have potential side effects. We need to balance Allie’s quality of life with our efforts to prolong it.”
“I want to know your opinion, Geneva,” Kara said. “What treatment plan do you think will give Allie the least side effects?”
Geneva hesitated. She took a seat beside her friend but then turned to face her directly. “Kara, Allie doesn’t want any more treatment.”
Kara shook her head. “But she doesn’t know what that means.”
“Yes, she does. I talked to her. She is very aware that she will die, but she doesn’t want medicine making her feel worse in the time she has before going to heaven.”
“I can’t… I can’t do nothing!” Kara cried, sobs choking her.
“We aren’t doing nothing,” Geneva assured. “We are praying. But Allie realizes that medicine will not save her now, only God can. I think we need to work to make her as comfortable as we can and let God do the rest.”
Kara shook her head. “I still don’t think I can! I want to try. I need to try. Not trying means giving up. And I just can’t do that. Allie is all I have.”