Every Last Drop Page 11

  “Tessa, this can’t happen.” She suddenly launched forward, throwing her arms around me and sobbing into my shoulder. I stumbled back for a moment, finding my balance, which was a feat in my weakened state. Hugging her, I caressed her back, her body heaving up and down with the strength of her cries.

  “Elly, it’s okay,” I coaxed, lowering my voice.

  “It’s not! It’s so fucked up! First Mom, now you…” she trailed off. I felt a dampness in my shoulder as she continued to cry.

  “You’re right.” I rocked her gently, hoping to calm her. “It’s not fair. I know, baby girl.”

  My dad stood behind Elly, rubbing his neck uncomfortably. He seemed as lost as I felt for the right thing to do or say.

  “I’m sorry, Tessa,” he said to me. “I wanted to tell her before we got here, so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed. But, uh…”

  “It’s fine, Dad,” I assured him.

  The guilt stayed on his face. Despair in his eyes, he wrapped his arms around both of us, sandwiched Elly in the middle. She continued to cry with as much strength as before, no ending in sight. Little paws jumped up on my leg, scratching at my knees for attention, but I ignored Beast. Kyle joined us, throwing his arms around the entire group.

  We stood in a giant bear hug, four people clambering for life not to rip us apart, not to let me go. Yet the only thing I wanted to do was let go. I wanted out. I wanted away from this moment—it was too much.

  Aside from those few minutes alone in my hospital room, I’d spent the last day helping others feel better. I had assured my family I only wanted to sleep yesterday, that everything was okay. My dad and Kyle checked on me countless times, and I calmed their fears each time. This morning when we awoke, Kyle had needed comforting, and now so did my sister. The only person who had received the news without needing solace had been Delores.

  I needed solace, and I was the only one going without.

  My eyes found Delores—desperate, pleading. She cracked a wry grin, gesturing to me that she understood my request. Reaching over the table, she knocked a hand against my empty bowl and sent it crashing to the ground.

  It clattered against the tile loudly, and everyone broke apart, releasing me. I closed my eyes in a silent prayer, thanking the good Lord for bringing this woman into my life.

  “Oh! That’s my bad,” Delores said, bending down to scoop up the intact bowl. “It’s all good. It didn’t break. Clumsy fingers.”

  “Are you okay?” Kyle asked, before helping her clean up the mess.

  My dad muttered something under his breath like how could a nurse be clumsy, but then he ushered Elly out of the kitchen and began helping her carry her bags upstairs.

  “Time to take Tessa’s vitals anyway,” Delores said to Kyle. “Sorry to break up that love huddle. That was getting me right here.” She tapped her heart. “Right in the ticker.”

  Kyle gave her a funny look then kissed me on the cheek before he left the room next.

  “You okay?” Delores turned her attention to me.

  “Yeah.” It was an automatic response. “Thanks for saving me back there.”

  “No problem.” She shrugged. “Kinda disappointed the bowl didn’t break though. That would have been hella dramatic.”

  I smiled slowly, though there wasn’t much behind it. We sat at the table and I rolled my sleeve for her to take my blood pressure. The tight line of her jaw flexed for a moment while she focused on the task, a stethoscope on the inside of my elbow, the other end tucked into her ears.

  She counted. I waited. The cuff tightened. My heart throbbed.

  Delores’s eyes glistened, giving away her real feelings. I knew she was as upset over the news. She was my nurse, but she’d become my friend—she cared about me, and I cared just as much about her.

  “I’m not really okay,” I answer her question again. “But I’m trying to be. I want to be.”

  She smiled. “That’s all you need to do, Tessa.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Monday, May 19, 2014

  * * *

  Doctor’s offices are not made for this many people. All four of us were crowded into one tiny exam room with a table in the center, making it at capacity. No one could walk in without slamming the door into my dad’s back, but since he was sandwiched between Kyle and Elly, he wasn’t going anywhere either. Propped up on the table, I was the centerpiece.

  At least, I was fully clothed this time.

  The new doctor didn’t need to examine me physically. He had looked over my blood work, scans, and all the other goodies I’d brought with me from the last few months. I was fully aware I wasn’t going to like what this doctor would tell me, or the next. That’s why I have three different doctors scheduled this week to check, triple check, quadruple check.

  I had pushed off my appointment with Dr. Page until Friday, wanting to get every other opinion before sitting down and talking about what I want for the end of my life. Because this couldn’t be the end of my life. It just couldn’t.

  “Mrs. Falls?” A voice entered the room with an oomph as the door smacked my dad between the shoulder blades. He pitched forward. “Oops, you okay, sir?”

  A young nurse stuck her head in farther and slid through the opening, needling her way in. My dad assured her he was fine, squeezing himself behind the table and out of the path of the door. A middle-aged man in a doctor’s coat entered next, doing the same shuffle through limbs and medical equipment to get to me.

  “Are you Mrs. Falls?” he asked.

  “Yes, and you’re Dr. Burton?”

  He nodded. “Mrs. Falls, I’ve gone over your scans and blood work, and I’m afraid I can’t offer you more than what Dr. Page has already said.”

  I blinked, not expecting him to dash my hopes so quickly like that. “There’s nothing? Nothing you can do?” I asked, feeling a sense of déjà vu.

  “We could possibly continue treatment to prolong your life expectancy, but there is no cure. That could give you a few more weeks, maybe even a month or two.” The doctor was curt, but there was no malice to it. He spoke slowly, letting me absorb his words, but he didn’t sugar coat anything.

  “What kind of treatments?” Kyle interrupted, squeezing my hand.

  “Chemo, radiation, possibly a combination of both. There are experimental drugs we could try, but your tumor is aggressive. It’s unlikely they would work if they didn’t work already.” He paused, frowning. “And there are the side effects to consider.”

  “But it would give me more time? These treatments?” I reiterated, ignoring his warning.

  “Potentially, but there are no guarantees. Your last six weeks of radiation should have drastically reduced the size of the tumor. Instead, yours grew substantially.” He flipped through some pages on the clipboard he was holding, as if to confirm what he was saying. When he found what he was looking for, he nodded and looked back at me. “Treatment could prolong your life if the tumor does what we want it to do.”

  “But my tumor doesn’t have a history of doing that,” I finished his sentence.

  “Yes,” he said, confirming what I didn’t want to hear. “You’d also be experiencing all the side effects of radiation again.”

  “She can at least try,” Elly spoke up from behind a nurse. “Right, Tessa?”

  “She definitely can,” he confirmed, turning to look at me. “I’d love to help you do exactly that if those are your wishes, Tessa.”

  “Let’s do that then,” Elly volunteered for me, and I felt a sinking in my gut at the idea.

  Dr. Burton kept his focus on me. “I’d like to fully discuss the process with you before you decide. Your records indicate you suffered with a lot of symptoms from the radiation in the last six weeks. You had to be hospitalized in the middle of it, correct?”

  I shuddered at the reminder. “It wasn’t an easy time.”

  His frown deepened. “A new round of treatments would be worse. There’d be extreme nausea, boils lining your throat and mouth, possibly y
our esophagus. Your scalp would suffer first-degree burns, skin peeling, blistering. There would be headaches, temporary blindness, vertigo, itchiness, weakness, and a lengthy list of other symptoms. I know you’ve already experienced a good bit of these, but it wouldn’t get better—it’d get worse. That being said, it might be worth it, Mrs. Falls. It might give you more time.”

  I watched Dr. Burton’s shoulders slump as he spoke, and I could tell he had little faith in any other outcome. The way his eyes widened every time he looked at my chart, it was clear he agreed with Dr. Page.

  I’d been given a death sentence.

  “Is that something you want to do, Mrs. Falls?” the doctor asked.

  My family looked at me expectantly, hope in their halfhearted smiles and pained expressions. The truth was I didn’t want to give up. I’m not a quitter. I never have been. Part of me wanted to try if only to say I did, to ease the strain on the faces around the room. They were rooting for me, maybe even more than I was rooting for myself.

  But they hadn’t lived in my body for the last six weeks. They watched and they comforted, but they didn’t feel it. They didn’t know the torment of a disease leaving you a shell of your former self, literally. This had been me trying—six weeks of excruciating trying.

  And it had failed.

  As I looked at their faces, a quiet, despondent voice in the back of my head said never again. Not even for a few more weeks.

  Never again.

  I pushed those thoughts aside. I couldn’t think like that. I couldn’t let cancer win. There were still three doctors left to see this week who might have an answer the others hadn’t. A miracle drug, a clinical trial, a fairy godmother, anything other than the torment of the last six weeks again.

  “I have to think about it,” I said finally, despite the pit in my stomach telling me I already knew the answer.

  “We’ve gotta be optimistic, right, babe? What’s there to think about?” Kyle asked me.

  I looked into his green eyes, wide and pleading. “Right, gotta stay positive…” I agreed, my voice trailing off.

  Everyone was looking at me. I mean, there were literally five sets of eyes glued to me, waiting for me to say I’d do it. To say I’d try.

  I couldn’t say no.

  I couldn’t say I never wanted to do a single treatment again, even if it meant leaving them sooner. I couldn’t say I didn’t want to keep going, only to be in so much pain again. Love was pain, and they were in pain loving me. Maybe I owe it to them. Maybe this is what love is.

  “Sheila will get you several informational packets about it, and you can decide in your own time.” Dr. Burton motioned to the nurse behind him.

  I exhaled, appreciating the reprieve from having to give an answer right then and there.

  “Sounds like a plan, doctor.” Kyle grinned, the first time I’d seen him smile in a few days. Maybe since before Friday’s bombshell.

  Dr. Burton nodded at Kyle, then looked back at me. “Mrs. Falls, if you do decide on continuing treatment, it will need to start within the next week. The sooner, the more effective.”

  My body tensed at the rushed timeline. “If I started now, would that mean I’d be going through treatment until… the end? I’d be sick the entire time?”

  I knew I had little time left, both doctors had confirmed it more than once, but I didn’t feel it. I didn’t feel like I could die tomorrow, despite what I looked like.

  “We’d definitely do our best to limit your symptoms, but we’d try to continue treatment as long as possible. With some luck, that would give you more time.”

  A non-answer if I’d ever heard one.

  Kyle nodded excitedly and my sister looked relieved. Even after seeing the hell I’d been through the last six weeks, they looked like the doctor had handed them a miracle. I wasn’t sure we were all hearing the same thing, because nothing he’d said was making me feel optimistic.

  “I’ll think about it,” I repeated, mentally pushing the knot in my stomach down as far as possible.

  “It’s more time, Tessa. Doesn’t that sound better?” Kyle said, pushing again.

  I tightened my jaw in frustration.

  “Yeah, this will give us more time,” Elly added, stepping closer to me.

  “It will give you guys more time, sure,” I snapped.

  Instantly, I wanted to pull the words back into my mouth. The wounded look on my baby sister’s face hurt worse than any tumor ever could.

  My dad squeezed my shoulder lightly. “Tessa.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know if I want more time. Do you remember the last six weeks? Because I do. Hell, I remember every torturous second of it.” I shuddered. “If this is all I get, do I want to spend my final days like that?”

  I closed my eyes at the truths I couldn’t hold back. My head hanging, I didn’t look at any of them. I couldn’t see the pain I’d caused on their faces. My heart heavy and pounding in my chest, I realized exactly what I’d said. My final days.

  I’d never said it before. Not aloud.

  I’m dying.

  “This is actually a very common response,” the doctor said, speaking to my family first then turning to me. “It’s completely understandable to want to spend your final days feeling as normal as possible, Tessa.”

  There were those words again.

  “We can arrange for hospice care and manage your symptoms with palliative care to make everything as pain-free as possible,” he continued.

  My brows furrowed. “What pain? I mean, if I’m not doing further treatments, what will happen to me?”

  Everyone looked at Dr. Burton.

  “As the tumor grows, your headaches will worsen. You’ll likely have seizures, increasing in intensity.” Dr. Burton looked straight at me as he spoke, never faltering. “Eventually, you will lose your eyesight. You will suffer numbing, and then paralysis, throughout your limbs first, then your whole body. As that happens, you will lose independent functioning. Your internal organs will start to shut down. After that, it will happen fairly quickly.”

  “I’ll die,” I finished his thought for him.

  He nodded.

  I swallowed hard. “I’ll be trapped in my own body, and then I’ll die.”

  “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Falls,” Dr. Burton said, his shoulders dropping slightly.

  Kyle’s hand tightened around mine. I wished the doctor would just say yes, you’re going to die trapped in your body, like a human coffin. But as I stared at him and saw the sadness on his face, I realized maybe an apology was all he could say. No one was entirely comfortable around death, not even doctors.

  “Does that have to happen? I mean, that’s just...” Elly’s tiny voice trailed off.

  I glanced at her. White as a ghost.

  “Unfortunately, that is the progression with this type of brain tumor.” Dr. Burton frowned. “There isn’t any way to avoid it without taking things into your own hands.”

  I jolted, as if something had bitten me. “Suicide? I’m not going to kill myself.”

  “Of course not, Mrs. Falls,” Dr. Burton replied, his expression regretful. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything. It’s not even considered suicide, despite the moniker ‘physician assisted suicide,’ so I can assure you there is no judgment. I shouldn’t have even mentioned it.”

  “I’m not going to kill myself,” I repeated with a little less ferocity this time.

  “We want Tessa with us as long as possible,” Kyle added.

  No matter what was implied in Kyle’s words, but I bit my tongue. The what mattered to me. It mattered a lot, and I wasn’t sure Kyle would ever be okay with that.

  My dad’s face was shadowed in doubt when I turned to look at him. It mimicked what I felt, and a wave of relief poured over me that maybe I wasn’t alone. Maybe he understood.

  “We’ll get you the paperwork. Look it over. Do some research. Take your time deciding,” Dr. Burton said, reaching out to shake my hand. He and Sheila then left us alone in the
examining room.

  “How about I get the paperwork and you guys head to the car?” my dad asked, eyeing me with worry.

  “I’ll go with you, Dad,” Elly said.

  I shot her a small smile.

  My family got it. I didn’t know how, but they did. They got that I needed a few minutes of quiet. I needed to process this in my own way, and they probably needed to process it away from me, too. They needed to cry and be angry and hate what was happening, but they wouldn’t do it in front of me. They would try to protect me from it, and I needed them to.

  Alone in the exam room with Kyle, I stood and looked around. Walking to the counter next to the sink, I picked up a jar of tongue depressors and opened the trash can with my foot. Turning over the container, I emptied the unused sticks into the garbage.

  “Tessa?” Kyle frowned as I closed the lid and put the empty jar back on the counter. “What are you doing?”

  “Throwing away tongue depressors.” I held up my hands like it should be obvious.

  He laughed. “I can see that, dork, but why?”

  “Oh.” I looked at the trashcan and shrugged. “Because they’re depressing.”

  Kyle laughed again and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, leading me toward the door. “At least, it wasn’t a pen this time.”

  “There’s always next time,” I told him, waiting for the brokenness inside me to hit its peak, for the news of there’s nothing we can do to shatter me entirely, but it wasn’t. I wasn’t breaking. I was hurting. My heart was swollen with how much it ached. But I wasn’t shattered.

  Somehow, I wasn’t breaking.

  * * *

  • ღ • ღ • ღ •

  * * *

  Thursday, May 22, 2014

  * * *

  My eyes ached from hours of staring at my computer screen. I squeezed them closed and rubbed my knuckles into the sockets, attempting to see straight. Giving up, I closed my laptop and laid across the bed. Beast hopped up and curled into my side, falling asleep while I stroked his fur and stared at the ceiling.