Page 39 of Part of Forever
“Hey, Rosebud,” he says, brushing my hair off my forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“Water,” I rasp and he grabs the huge mug from the table and holds the straw up to my mouth. Sweet relief.
“You feeling okay?” he asks.
I nod. “Sore, but okay.”
He gives my shoulder a squeeze.
Nathan sits up, as if jarred awake by some loud noise. “Dang, I fell asleep again.”
Dad laughs. “That’s what happens in a dark room, and when you didn’t sleep much the night before. I’ll go let the nurse’s station know you’re awake. Doctor Barker will want to come in and talk with us.”
“Where’s Mom?” I ask, grateful my voice is back to normal and my throat no longer feels like it’s going to explode.
“Studio,” Dad says, his voice tight. I wonder if they argued about it. They always seemed to argue about her going to the studio when I was going through treatment as a kid. She spent more time at the studio than she did with me at the hospital. It was Dad who was always by my bedside. But Dad doesn’t say anything else before he walks out of the room.
“When did Mom leave?” I ask Nathan, who stands up to stretch.
“I think around six this morning.” He gives a little shrug. “I can’t really remember. She was insistent about not missing a day at the studio. She even yelled at Dad out in the hallway and one of the nurses had to calm her down.”
“Wow,” I say, even though I’m not that surprised. Nothing would keep her from the studio, not even her daughter having cancer. It’s why Dad was with me night and day the last time. It’s not that she doesn’t care; somewhere deep down I know—or think and hope—that she does, but dance has always been number one in her life, and it probably always will be.
“Any word yet from Doctor Barker?” I ask Nathan.
“Said they got the whole tumor out, you should be good.” If I hadn’t just had surgery on my side, I might throw my arms up and cheer. Instead, I settle for a modified version of the gesture.
“Woohoo,” I say, just as Dad returns with Doctor Barker.
“I see your brother told you the good news.” She smiles. “Wewere able to remove the tumor without any trouble. We’ll do some more blood work and another scan before you leave, but I’m confident that we’re going to see the results we want. We may still do a round of chemo just to make sure all the cancer is gone, but we’ll wait for the blood work to get back before we make any plans.”
“That’s great,” I tell her. While chemo is pretty much the worst thing ever invented, I know it will help. That’s what helped the most last time.
Doctor Barker continues, “Whether or not we do chemo, we’ll have you come back in another month to run some more tests, make sure things are looking okay. We’ll do that every month for the next year, just to keep an eye on everything.” What she doesn’t say is that they want to keep an eye on me, see if they can figure out why after almost nine years of remission, I grew another tumor. It’s not uncommon for cancer to return, but it has been a long time for me. I didn’t expect it to come back.
“Okay,” I pause. But I have to know, so I ask, “And what happens when I go to Paris in the fall?”
“We’ll get you all set up with a doctor over there.” Doctor Barker beams at me. She really seems thrilled about how everything went. “It won’t be a problem.”
I nod in relief. That’s good; this won’t change any of my plans.
“When do I get to go home?” I ask, and Dad laughs.
“You did just have surgery, but if everything looks good you’ll be able to go home tomorrow or the next day, as long as your vitals continue to look good. And I still want you to continue group therapy, at least a couple more times.”
“Awesome, I can do that,” I say as she turns to leave. “And thank you.” She nods before heading out of the room.
“I’m tumor-free!” I say. My stomach rumbles loudly. “And I think I need some food.”
“I’ll go get us something,” Nathan says, leaving the room.
“How are you doing, kiddo?” Dad asks, sitting on the edge of my bed.
“I’m good,” I say honestly. I feel a lot less groggy than I expected to after surgery. “How are you?”
“Oh, just getting better all the time, especially now that my girl is okay.” He smiles at me. “Mom was thrilled the surgery went well, but she had to get back to the studio.”
“I know,” I say, without bitterness in my voice.
