Page 90 of Campus Crush
A few minutes passed before a tall blond man in a white doctor’s coat walked in. His name badge read “Dr. Spencer” and he carried a tablet, his expression professionally somber.
“Are you Abby Walker?” he asked, his voice calm and measured.
“Yeah.” I straightened in my chair but didn’t let go of Gram’s hand.
“I’m glad you could make it.”
“What’s wrong with her? Is she gonna be okay?” The questions tumbled out, my voice catching on the last word.
He hesitated. “You’re listed as her emergency contact, and her primary care physician has her advanced care directive on file, which gives us permission to share what’s going on.”
“Okay,” I said, nervous at his formal tone. The knot in my stomach tightened.
“Just to confirm—she hasn’t talked to you about her condition?” he asked, watching me carefully.
I shook my head, a lump forming in my throat. “My brother and I have been concerned for months, butwhenever we asked her, she just brushed it off. Said she was just getting older and slowing down.” I remembered the way she’d wave away our concerns, changing the subject to Mason’s football games or my studies.
Dr. Spencer frowned, his forehead creasing. “Seems commonplace for many in her generation, unfortunately, especially when they’ve already made the decision.”
“Decision about what?” My voice was barely more than a whisper now, dread pooling in my stomach.
“Your grandmother has advanced pancreatic cancer.”
The floor might as well have dropped out from under me as he continued on. The room seemed to tilt slightly, and I held Gram’s hand tighter, needing an anchor.
“She was diagnosed several months ago based on information in her chart and the notes from her oncologist. She declined treatment. She was seeing her doctor for some pain management, but didn’t want anything else. Her collapse today isn’t a surprise, since she’s likely in quite a bit of pain and probably has been for a while. We’ve stabilized her, but given the progression of her cancer, she likely doesn’t have much time left.”
I couldn’t breathe, and suddenly I couldn’t see because my eyes were blurring from the tears filling them. The words “advanced” and “declined treatment” and “doesn’t have much time” echoed in my head, each one a hammer blow against my heart.
“She’s dying?” I asked, surprised my voice came out as clear as it did when I felt like I was going to choke on the grief already rising in my throat.
“I’m afraid so,” he confirmed, his voice filled with genuine compassion.
My lower lip wobbled as I tried to hold it together. I could feel my face contorting with the effort not to breakdown completely. “There’s nothing that can be done to save her?” I heard the desperate hope in my question, already knowing the answer.
“She didn’t want anything. The cancer was too far along when she was diagnosed. Treatment might have delayed things, but it wouldn’t have put her in remission.” His words were gentle but unflinching.
“How much time do you think she has?” I forced myself to ask the question I didn’t want answered.
He looked at my grandmother lying in the hospital bed, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, and then back at me. “It could be days or weeks, but I wouldn’t give her much more than that.”
Weeks?
I only had weeks with her? And that was only if she lasted that long.
I sat frozen in the chair, tears silently slipping down my cheeks, creating dark spots on my jeans where they fell. This couldn’t be happening.
Whywas this happening? Hadn’t we lost enough? First Dad, then Mom, and now Gram? It was too much. Too cruel. Mason would be devastated.
Oh God, Mason.
He was already struggling so much with Mom’s death. How would he handle losing Gram too?
“Is there someone we can call for you to come here?” Dr. Spencer asked, his voice breaking through the fog of my thoughts. He was looking at me with concern, probably worried I was going into shock.
Before I could answer the doctor’s question, the door opened and Foster walked in. I’d never been so happy to see him because right now I didn’t think I even had the strengthto stand. It felt like my whole world was crumbling around me.
His hair was slightly disheveled, like he’d been running his hands through it—something he did when he was worried. His blue eyes immediately locked with mine, taking in my tear-stained face and broken expression.
