Finn
Page 34
“What happened?” I ask after she’s gotten herself under control.
She sighs. “It didn’t work. The new treatment. It appears to have had no effect at all.”
I sit as close to her as I possibly can with the guardrail of the bed in the way. “I’m so sorry. So sorry.” There’s really nothing else I can say and that helplessness tears at me. This treatment was supposed to be our miracle. It was supposed to make her better.
She pulls me down for a hug. Then she pulls back and pats at the wet spot on my shirt. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be putting this all on you.”
“Mom, this is about you. You should cry or whatever you need to do.”
I have to squeeze my own eyes hard to stop the tears. She doesn’t need to see me break down. My mom has always been the strong one, even when she had no one to rely on but herself. Now she needs me to be strong for her.
“I’m going to have a talk with the doctor. They said we have other options. Treatments that are overseas. We’re not giving up.”
By now, she seems to have gotten herself under control. She wipes the back of her eyes with a tissue and forces a tremulous smile. “I know. Maybe that won’t be so bad. I’ve always wanted to travel.”
“Switzerland is nice this time of year.”
Her breath huffs out in a little laugh. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
“Can I come in?”
We look up to see Emma standing in the doorway. Tank stands behind her, stone-faced.
“Of course, sweetheart. Please.” Mom opens her arms and Emma practically flies across the room to hug her.
Tank told me a little about Emma’s background so I know she lost her parents violently. It explains why she’s so attached to our mom. I can’t even imagine a world where I don’t have my mother to nag me, tease me and build me up. I don’t want to either.
“I need to talk to you.”
Tank nods and follows me outside. My brother and I are very different, but when it comes to our mother we’ve always been in perfect agreement. We’ll work together to get anything she needs. And he’s not going to take the news any better than I have.
“So it didn’t work.”
We’d paid to try out an experimental form of chemotherapy that isn’t usually offered. I paid to fly the foremost oncologist who pioneered the treatment here so that he could oversee her care. At the time, it seemed like our best option.
Tank’s hands flex into fists and I know he feels the same restless rage that torments me. We’re men of action. When there’s a problem, we need to fix it. But this battle isn’t one that we can fight for her.
“There has to be something else,” he mutters.
“If there is, we’ll find out.”
He glances behind me at Mom’s open door. A nurse has just gone in to take more blood or her temperature or one of the million things they constantly seem to be doing. It hits me then that all this might be for nothing. The futility hits me hard.
This might be a battle that we just can’t win.
* * * * *
The beep beep of the machine next to my mother’s bed slips into my dreams. I wake with the sound echoing in my head. Mom is fast asleep, looking altogether too pale against the stark sheets. I glance at my watch. It’s almost midnight. I can’t believe the nurses didn’t kick me out by now. Visiting hours have long since been over. I need to get home before Rissa gets back from her last shift or she'll be worried.
I stand and kiss Mom gently on the forehead, then pick up my cane. When I emerge into the bright light of the hospital corridor, I almost collide with Sandy.
“Sorry. I should have been gone hours ago. I guess I fell asleep.”
“It’s perfectly all right. Honestly, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.” She glances toward Mom’s room. “We’re all very fond of her.”
I nod because I don’t trust myself to speak.
When I get home, I go straight to my room and strip. Sleeping in that chair has left my neck tight and my back sore. A hot shower is probably what I need but I’m too tired to trust myself not to fall out in the shower. Rissa still hasn't arrived home and for once, I'm actually glad for the privacy.
I shake out several pills, then at the last minute shake out a few more. The pills roll around my palm making little clacking noises and I shake them gently, just to hear the sound. There's a sick sense of excitement just looking at them. I know that they're going to make me feel good.
Ashamed at the thought, I close my hand.
The past week, I’ve been dealing with the pain unmedicated. I need a break. Just a few hours without the cloud of pain. I need a few moments when things don’t have to make sense. When I can remember a time when my mom was smiling and when I didn’t have to watch her in pain.
When loving so much didn’t hurt.
Before I can think about it too hard, I toss back the handful of pills. I fill the glass on the counter with water and wash them down.
I climb into the bed and fall face forward into the pillows. Rissa will be home soon but by the time we wake up tomorrow morning, I'll be fine.
The next thing I know, there’s noise all around me. It feels like waking up in a blender.
I struggle to make my groggy limbs respond. Everything feels heavy like I have little anvils attached to my arms and legs.
When I finally get on my feet, I stumble into the hallway. Colors swirl around me and the hallways shifts and rolls beneath my feet. Why is everything moving? I just want it to be still, the way it’s supposed to be.
She sighs. “It didn’t work. The new treatment. It appears to have had no effect at all.”
I sit as close to her as I possibly can with the guardrail of the bed in the way. “I’m so sorry. So sorry.” There’s really nothing else I can say and that helplessness tears at me. This treatment was supposed to be our miracle. It was supposed to make her better.
She pulls me down for a hug. Then she pulls back and pats at the wet spot on my shirt. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be putting this all on you.”
“Mom, this is about you. You should cry or whatever you need to do.”
I have to squeeze my own eyes hard to stop the tears. She doesn’t need to see me break down. My mom has always been the strong one, even when she had no one to rely on but herself. Now she needs me to be strong for her.
“I’m going to have a talk with the doctor. They said we have other options. Treatments that are overseas. We’re not giving up.”
By now, she seems to have gotten herself under control. She wipes the back of her eyes with a tissue and forces a tremulous smile. “I know. Maybe that won’t be so bad. I’ve always wanted to travel.”
“Switzerland is nice this time of year.”
Her breath huffs out in a little laugh. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
“Can I come in?”
We look up to see Emma standing in the doorway. Tank stands behind her, stone-faced.
“Of course, sweetheart. Please.” Mom opens her arms and Emma practically flies across the room to hug her.
Tank told me a little about Emma’s background so I know she lost her parents violently. It explains why she’s so attached to our mom. I can’t even imagine a world where I don’t have my mother to nag me, tease me and build me up. I don’t want to either.
“I need to talk to you.”
Tank nods and follows me outside. My brother and I are very different, but when it comes to our mother we’ve always been in perfect agreement. We’ll work together to get anything she needs. And he’s not going to take the news any better than I have.
“So it didn’t work.”
We’d paid to try out an experimental form of chemotherapy that isn’t usually offered. I paid to fly the foremost oncologist who pioneered the treatment here so that he could oversee her care. At the time, it seemed like our best option.
Tank’s hands flex into fists and I know he feels the same restless rage that torments me. We’re men of action. When there’s a problem, we need to fix it. But this battle isn’t one that we can fight for her.
“There has to be something else,” he mutters.
“If there is, we’ll find out.”
He glances behind me at Mom’s open door. A nurse has just gone in to take more blood or her temperature or one of the million things they constantly seem to be doing. It hits me then that all this might be for nothing. The futility hits me hard.
This might be a battle that we just can’t win.
* * * * *
The beep beep of the machine next to my mother’s bed slips into my dreams. I wake with the sound echoing in my head. Mom is fast asleep, looking altogether too pale against the stark sheets. I glance at my watch. It’s almost midnight. I can’t believe the nurses didn’t kick me out by now. Visiting hours have long since been over. I need to get home before Rissa gets back from her last shift or she'll be worried.
I stand and kiss Mom gently on the forehead, then pick up my cane. When I emerge into the bright light of the hospital corridor, I almost collide with Sandy.
“Sorry. I should have been gone hours ago. I guess I fell asleep.”
“It’s perfectly all right. Honestly, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.” She glances toward Mom’s room. “We’re all very fond of her.”
I nod because I don’t trust myself to speak.
When I get home, I go straight to my room and strip. Sleeping in that chair has left my neck tight and my back sore. A hot shower is probably what I need but I’m too tired to trust myself not to fall out in the shower. Rissa still hasn't arrived home and for once, I'm actually glad for the privacy.
I shake out several pills, then at the last minute shake out a few more. The pills roll around my palm making little clacking noises and I shake them gently, just to hear the sound. There's a sick sense of excitement just looking at them. I know that they're going to make me feel good.
Ashamed at the thought, I close my hand.
The past week, I’ve been dealing with the pain unmedicated. I need a break. Just a few hours without the cloud of pain. I need a few moments when things don’t have to make sense. When I can remember a time when my mom was smiling and when I didn’t have to watch her in pain.
When loving so much didn’t hurt.
Before I can think about it too hard, I toss back the handful of pills. I fill the glass on the counter with water and wash them down.
I climb into the bed and fall face forward into the pillows. Rissa will be home soon but by the time we wake up tomorrow morning, I'll be fine.
The next thing I know, there’s noise all around me. It feels like waking up in a blender.
I struggle to make my groggy limbs respond. Everything feels heavy like I have little anvils attached to my arms and legs.
When I finally get on my feet, I stumble into the hallway. Colors swirl around me and the hallways shifts and rolls beneath my feet. Why is everything moving? I just want it to be still, the way it’s supposed to be.
