Better Than None Page 20

  They looked at me, then my mom, and wasted no time.

  “Ok, come with us,” one of the people in scrubs said and I followed them through another set of double doors and into the actual ER. They led us to an empty gurney and once I set her down I started answering the questions they were shooting at me.

  “Pancreatic cancer, stage 4. Last chemo was on Tuesday. She’s taking Diludad 2mg as needed, at least twice a day, Pancreatese…” and I went on listing the various medications, amounts, her allergies. It was all so rote by now. As we talked, nurses started taking her vitals.

  “I walked in and she was shaking like this.”

  “When did it start?”

  “I don’t know. I just went over this morning.”

  “She lives alone?!”

  “Yes, but I take care of her.”

  “So you don’t know when this started?”

  “No! I talked with her last night before she went to sleep and then I went over just now and found her like this!”

  “Her fever is 104.5. I’m guessing it’s an infection. We’re going to do some quick blood work to confirm that, but in the mean time we’re going to give her IV antibiotics to get her fever down. I don’t want to wait for the results. If it’s not an infection, the antibiotics won’t hurt her.”

  I nodded trying not to feel like the doctor was chastising me for not being there with her 24/7. As she gave one nurse the order for drugs, she ordered the other to start an IV.

  “She has a port.” I quickly offered and before they could ask, I’d become so used to the questions. “It’s a Power Port. .75 gauge needle.” They were momentarily surprised that I knew such detail but then went about getting the sterile kit that I’d become used to seeing. Meanwhile the doctor asked me more questions.

  “Who’s her oncologist?”

  I jerked for a second. “Dr. Rosenberg.”

  “Do you know his first name? We have a lot of Rosenbergs.”

  I know what his dick looks like, is what I felt like saying. “Brad.”

  “Ok, and has she ever had anything like this before?” I shook my head. “Any hospitalizations recently?”

  “Yes, she had a biliary stent inserted a month or so ago was her last one. They want to put in a duodenal stent but the opening is too tight and they’re hoping the chemo shrinks the tumor so that they can.”

  The doctor smiled for a moment. “Sounds like you know your stuff.”

  I actually managed a smile. “No offense, but I’ve become way too familiar with the GI system, any and all medications, hospital procedures…it comes in handy now, but if were all the same, I wish I had no reason to know.”

  She reached out, squeezed my shoulder and nodded. The nurse accessed the port and the other nurse came in with the antibiotics. My mom was still shaking but within less than a minute of them pushing IV antibiotic and some type of sedative the shaking stopped. They started affixing the sticky monitor conductors to all parts of her body and hooked her up so they could monitor her heartbeat and other vitals. Meanwhile someone else came in with a portable ultra sound and within minutes they were scanning her belly, taking picture after picture. I felt like after all the imaging she’d been through I should have known what the white areas were versus the grey ones and the black ones, but it all looked the same to me. I watched as the clicked and measured, each time thinking that must be the tumor and wondering what they saw that I didn’t.

  45 minutes later, one of the nurses came back in and took her temperature. “100.3” she smiled and I took what felt like my first breath since finding her. She still wasn’t awake, but the nurse assured me that was only because of the sedative they’d given her. It wasn’t even 8am and I felt like an entire day had passed by already. As I waited for the radiologist to read the ultrasound results I sat in the hard visitor’s chair and watched my mother’s unconscious body. I watched the shallow breaths raise and lower her, but if it weren’t for those, she looked lifeless to me.

  I texted Marty letting him know I was in the ER with Barb and he texted back his support and care. For a second, in a knee-jerk reaction, I thought about calling Brad, and as soon as I did, I prayed I wouldn’t see him here.

  Dr. Collins, the ER doc came back in around 9am. “Her ultrasound shows a blockage in one of the branches of the biliary tree, which is probably what caused the infection and the fever spike.” I nodded. “We’re going to admit her.”

  “Ok. So, does this mean another stent?”

  She smiled slightly and nodded. “But we need the GI and IR teams to take it from here. Once she’s admitted, they’ll figure out what they need to do, but yes, that’s the most likely.”

  “How many stents can one person have? Is the tumor just going to keep growing and pressing on things?”

  “Those are questions for Dr. Rosenberg.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “I know, he can be a little uh, prickly. But he’s the best there is.” She paused and looked around, realizing her mistake. “I shouldn’t say that, but it’s true.”

  I held down whatever snarkiness was on its way up. “Yes, I’ve heard that before. It’s a little hard to believe sitting where I’m sitting.” Of course, she had no idea I wasn’t just talking about him as a doctor.

  “The GI and IR doc will consult with him.” She said like I’d offended one of her own. “As soon as a bed’s available, they’ll wheel her up. Transport’s already been called.” I nodded all to familiar with transport and all the terms that a novice in the hospital system wouldn’t know. Unfortunately, I was becoming an old pro.

  Once my mom was in her own room and I’d gleaned that the sedatives would keep her knocked out for a few hours, I went back to her house to feed all her animals and then back to mine to retrieve my laptop, and everything else I’d need for sitting in the hospital. When I returned, not much had changed. We were still waiting to talk with GI and IR and Barb was still out. The good news was that her fever was now normal. The antibiotics were doing their job, so that was a small check mark in the plus column.

  Hours passed and finally a new set of doctors came in. They explained they’d be injecting her with dye and then taking an x-ray to see how the dye flowed to determine whether or not they could stent her. If they couldn’t, then they’d insert another external drain and a bag. I asked my questions, nodded in understanding and went back to my laptop after they left. Nurses came and went and eventually transport once again came to take her down for the x-ray.

  There was an odd awareness of time in the hospital for me. Each visit, it seemed like time ticked by so slowly waiting for results, waiting for doctors to come by, and simply just waiting. Yet I was always surprised when an entire day would pass and it was already late afternoon.

  When they came back they explained that for the time being, they would need to insert an external drain to drain the bile. They’d give that a few days and then reevaluate to see if they could internalize it.

  I thought back to that first visit with Brad, when I accused him of delivering news like he was telling us the weather. Now I understood. What should have horrified me, or at least taken me aback was now simply commonplace. The news that my mother would once again have a tube sticking out of her abdomen draining bile to a bag was just accepted.

  Barb was so groggy when she finally did wake that our conversations went round and round. I tried to explain what was happening, what the doctors were going to do but it was obvious that little was getting through. I stayed with her until the evening and then finally left to go back to her house, take care of her animals, turn on the lights, close the blinds, take in the mail... and then repeat a similar routine once I got to my own home. I considered having a drink to numb me more than I already was, but having not eaten a thing all day, I chose bed instead. When I finally lay my head on the pillow I wondered how things could get any worse.

  ****

  I was thankful the following day was Saturday as I dreaded asking Marty for any more time off, not that
he ever once made me feel guilty. My mom drifted in and out of sleep and when she was awake, they had her so doped up, it wasn’t like she was really awake at all. Still, I sat at her bedside all day. There was nothing I could do, but there was nowhere else I could imagine being.

  A soft knock turned my attention from my laptop to find Marty hanging in the doorway. “Hey, Steph. Can I come in?”

  A more welcome face I couldn’t imagine. “Oh Marty! Of course! Come in, come in. What are you doing here?”

  He walked in slowly regarding my sleeping mother and spoke softly. “I wanted to check on you, see how you were doing.” He stood awkwardly.

  “About as well as can be expected.”

  “How’s your mom?” He asked and looked at her. She looked so old and frail, her mouth hanging open as she slept, I didn’t want him to see her like that. I’d wished he’d met her when she was her, not the cancer patient he saw before him.

  I gave him the rundown of what happened and what they were planning on doing. At first I glossed over the details not wanting to bore him, but Marty asked a lot of questions, his interest and concern clear.

  “And how are you? You’ve got to be exhausted.” He asked with such sincerity.

  “I think I’m a couple steps below exhausted.” I tried to tease but he just gave me a sympathetic smile. He was so sweet, but after everything that had just happened with Brad I simply couldn’t give Marty too much. My walls were starting to build themselves out of self-preservation already. So I played a card I knew well: diversion. “Hey, since you’re here, can I show you some concepts I’ve been working on?”

  He rolled his eyes and smiled, “Sure. Let’s see what you got.” I turned my laptop towards him and we both bent over it as I scrolled through different comps and ideas. We spent the better part of an hour talking through some of the work and tossing concepts back and forth. And while it started out as deflection, it quickly turned into a healthy exchange, and one I readily welcomed. It was so nice to focus on something other than life and death.

  Barb started to mutter in her sleep and Marty took that as his cue to leave. “There’s some really good thinking there, Steph.”

  “Thanks, Marty.”

  “You amaze me. Truly.” He said and the pulled me into a tight hug. “I’m really lucky to have you.”

  “Ahem.”

  Both Marty and I turned as we broke from our hug to find Brad in the doorway. If I thought I’d seen him cold and mean before, I was wrong. The stare that he leveled at me was vicious, though why he’d be mad at me made no sense. He was the one who dumped me. After standing there for a beat too long I realized Marty was there.

  “Marty, this is my mom’s oncologist, Dr. Rosenberg. Dr. Rosenberg, Marty.” I made the introductions and both men seemed to regard each other skeptically as they shook hands.

  “I was just leaving.” Marty said to both of us and then turned to me. “Let me know if you need anything. Anything. You know I’m here for you.” I smiled, nodded and thanked him before he leaned in and gave me a kiss on my cheek.

  “Dr. Rosenberg.” Marty said as walked out.

  Brad just stood there, arms folded, staring at me. Whatever had crawled up his ass was beyond me and I was too tired and hurt to care. I started to sit down.

  “Well you’ve moved on quickly.” The daggers he shot me were palpable.

  I stood back up. Ram-rod straight. “Excuse me?!”

  “Did I stutter?”

  It amazed me how this man who had been so tender could be so incredibly cold. I shook my head and rolled my eyes as I chuckled tightly. “Obviously I should have stuck with my first impression of you because it’s clear you never stopped being a colossal prick. Were you just bottling up your inner jackass for the last month or so?”

  “Just calling it the way I see it, Stephanie.”

  “Yeah, cause you’re never wrong.”

  He shook his head and smirked. “And I was worried I’d actually hurt you. I can’t believe this happened again.”

  “What are we talking about?”

  “You obviously have been with him, Marty, for a while. Were you fucking him while you were with me?”

  “What!?”

  “You really had me fooled, I’ll give you that.” He huffed and clenched his jaw. “I believed all your bullshit about your little relationship freak outs. Jesus, I played right into your hand didn’t I?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? Marty is my boss!”

  “You’re fucking your boss?!”

  “No! There’s nothing going on with him!” If I weren’t so incredibly angry, I’d think this was a fucked up version of Who’s on First.

  “Now you’re going to lie to me?”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “I know what I saw.” He said flatly.

  “What you saw, you presumptuous piece of shit, was someone comforting me, caring about me. That’s all. Whether or not you believe me, I really don’t have the energy to waste worrying about.” I grit my teeth and smirked. “And to think, I’ve been pining over you dumping me. At least you gave me this, so thank you. You’re making it a lot easier to get over you.”

  “Stephanie.” He started.

  “Don’t you Stephanie me, Brad. I’m not your wife. Just because she cheated on you doesn’t mean that I did, though now I can’t say that I blame her.” I paused letting that sink in. “And, not that it matters what you think, but I would never, ever cheat on anyone. I’d have the decency to just leave.”

  I couldn’t tell if he believed me though it seemed like some part of him was reconsidering his initial accusation. It didn’t much matter. I should have been glad he was showing his true colors, but all I felt was sick to my stomach and even more depressed. I’d opened myself up to this man and the thought that he could think so little of me hurt even more than being dumped in the first place.

  CHAPTER 17

  My mom was back home after spending more than a week in the hospital this last time, and my days were filled with work, taking care of her and her animals and trying to decide when she was going to need more care than I could offer. Every time we’d start the conversation, it would end up with her telling me that she didn’t want a stranger in the house and some variation of, “I have you, Stephy. I don’t need anyone else.” It was impossible for me to press after that.

  My dinners were becoming a cocktail or two at home. As much as I knew it wasn’t healthy, I felt like I deserved it. On the days before Barb’s chemo, when I knew I’d see Brad, the alcohol was about all I could depend on getting me to sleep for a few hours. After the incident at the hospital, I had seen him three times in clinic and chose to stare at my laptop when he’d stop by to talk with my mom.

  I couldn’t even look him in the eye but I could feel his stare as he would typically linger long after the conversation with Barb had ended. Breaking up with me was one thing. Relationships end, I got that. But the accusation that I’d been screwing around on him was unforgivable. He knew I had my issues, but if he thought I could do that meant he had no idea who I was.

  While there was nothing good about what my mother was going through, the only remotely positive thing that did come out of it was perspective. I felt as hollow as I ever had, yet there was a part of me that was proud I had a relationship at all. It didn’t lessen the hurt. I thought about Brad every fucking minute. I hated him for breaking my heart. I hated myself for opening up to someone only to be crushed by them. I hated that, in my time of need, I had no one to turn to. I never expected anyone before, but I’d become comfortable having him to talk with, to lean on, to simply share my life with. And now I didn’t. Yet as bad as I felt, and as hurt as I was, there were far worse things in life, so I tried my best to soldier on doing whatever I could that I thought might help.

  It had been ages since I had taken a yoga class but I knew I had to do something to try to get out of my mind and yoga was a healthier alternative to drinking, not that they were mutually exc
lusive. Through every pose, I had to force myself to listen to the instructor and focus on my posture and breathing so that I wouldn’t let my mind drift back to Brad. Even then, he crept in. The class was packed and hot and it felt good to use muscles that I’d ignored as I sweated through each and every pose, fighting for it like holding a pose would somehow heal something inside me.

  As I was rolling up my mat, I heard a familiar voice, “Stephanie?” I looked up to see Sherri. I’m not sure I would have recognized her. Her hair had grown a bit and was now just shy of being a pixie. But it wasn’t just the hair. She looked healthier than I’d ever seen. She had a nice flush in her face and her eyelashes and eyebrows had started to grow back. But her smile was the same: warm and welcoming. I’m sure it was the emotion of everything: my mom, Brad, and seeing her knowing what she’d been through, and maybe the release that I sometimes got from a good yoga class. Or perhaps all of the above that made me practically crush her into a bear hug.

  “Sherri! Oh my God look at you, you look amazing!” I squealed and she laughed.

  “Well, it’s not hard to look better than when you last saw me!”

  I smiled and she linked her arm in mine as we walked out together. I’d never met anyone as warm as Sherri. She wasn’t afraid to put herself out there, to give her love. It’s said that you get what you give and in her case it was true. I couldn’t help but smile and squeeze her arm in return.

  Once we’d navigated through the sweaty bodies lingering and finally got outside I surprised myself when I asked her to coffee. I needed to keep myself distracted and I enjoyed her company. We chatted easily about how my mom was doing and about Sherri’s own recovery. I had begun getting comfortable sharing with Brad and Marty, but neither of them went through the disease itself. Now, with Brad gone, it was nice talking with someone who understood.

  “I’ll tell you one thing, it’s given me perspective on everything.” Sherri said.