Chapter 4

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Tatum

"Repeat that," I demand, done with this bullshit. The shock still courses through me but I ignore it and shift closer in the uncomfortable plastic chair.

"I'm sorry, Tatum but the scans weren't what we were hoping for." Dr. Clarke says sadly, glancing down at my papers in his lap. "It's been determined by the Cancer Board that the cells are cancerous and have spread to your lymph nodes. There are treatment options for Stage 3c breast cancer but I would like to get started right away."

I swallow, the room blurring around me. The tests have to be wrong. He has to be wrong.

My vision goes watery but I take a deep breath, trying to push down the old feelings from last time I was in this room, told the cancer wouldn't come back for another thirty to fifty years-but the chances of that were supposed to be low. Extremely low.

I hate this feeling. This feeling that I have absolutely no say in what happens next. Sure, I have a few options. I could always say no to chemo but where does that leave me? Most likely dead, which is sounding a whole lot better than feeling like death and knowing I could die anyway.

As I said, I don't have a lot of say.

A dark chuckle leaves me and I absently reach for his hand but then remember he hasn't been here for years. A tear leaks from the corner of my eye and I know Dr. Clarke saw the motion.

"When you say right away, what the fuck does that mean?"

Seventeen year old me would have rather slapped herself across the face than swear at a doctor but at seventeen, she had Atlas with her, holding her hand as the doctor dropped the news and Dr. Clarke was a lot more confident back then since we caught it a lot earlier.

"Monday."

My jaw drops. "But it's Wednesday." I shake my head, letting my tears fall freely.

Dr. Clarke nods slowly and I swear he has tears in his eyes as well. "I know but the sooner we begin, the better chance-"

"Yes. I know. The better chance I'll have at surviving. So I'll have my port installed and then start treatment?"

He opens his mouth to say something but I cut him off. "And then I'll need to take time -preferably ten to twelve days-off afterwards so I can rest after my first treatment. Isn't that right, Doc?"

"Yes. You're correct." His face pinches. "I'm incredibly sorry, Tatum. I-I-"

"It's not your fault," I rest a gentle hand on his shoulder. God, shouldn't he be comforting me? "I have a request though."

He perks up. "Anything to make you more comfortable."

"I only want male nurses. I don't care what you have to do but please make it happen."

He's already scribbling it down. "Yes. Of course. What does your day look like on Monday? We can put you down for the morning or afternoon, totally your preference."

"Morning please." So I don't stress about it the whole day.

"Got it." He scribbles more things down and I sit there and pretend I don't have cancer. That I won't have to take time off of work and be away from my kids that I've grown to love.

That I don't have to tell Ava. Nope. I'd rather die than put her through this again. She just found happiness with her boyfriend after they lost someone close to them and despite what she's saying, I know she's still getting used to being fully deaf.

If she found out, she would take time off school, training, everything. She would feel some sort of obligation to be with me at all times, probably try and move in with me-not fucking happening, too much pink-but she would feel like she owes it to Atlas-which she doesn't.

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