She's back ~ L. Hamilton

75. | Dr Wiffen

The cardiologist's name is Dr. Wiffen. She's a tall women with short red curly hair and neon yellow nails and what appears be an allergy to good beside manners

She looks up at my uncle and me "This is an extreme case of cardio-toxicity" she says

My uncle is sitting up in the hospital bed. I'm in a chair next to him. Lewis tried to stay, but we both insisted he go home, he only agreed after I called Daniel and told him what had happened and he said he's a three hour drive away but he'll be here as soon as he can.

"What does that mean?" I ask

Dr. Wiffen does not look away from my uncle "It means you are in stage three hear failure, Mr. Ricciardo. Most likely a side effect of the chemo treatment you had last year"

My uncle gives the slightest scoff "What doesn't kill you.....might still kill you"

I grab his hand and squeeze it, offering him a smile.

"Have you been experiencing light-headedness? Shortness of breath?" She asks

"No" I say, answering on his behalf just as my uncle speaks up "yes. Both"

I stare at him

"I've been feeling weak too" he adds "more and more"

"Why didn't you say anything?" I ask "you've been training me for the last half a year and you've been sick while doing it?"

He ignores me

"Your oncologist should have told you those were symptoms to watch for" Dr. Wiffen says

"They did" I say "They did tell us that last year"

Dr. Wiffen nods "If you had spoken up sooner, we could have put you on beta-blockers," she says "Now the damage is done. You will need surgery to fix the tear and put in a pacemaker" I stop breathing for a second.

I stare straight ahead at the poster on the wall, an ugly still life of a vase of flowers. I try to control my breath and focus as best I can on the plastic picture frame. I swallow, hard "When do you plan on doing that?" I ask "The surgery" Dr. Wiffen closes the chart "Within the next few days. And, Mr. Riccardo, you will need to stay in the hospital until then. And some time after, as we monitor your progress"

My uncle shakes his head "I do not have time for this. We play Wimbledon in three weeks"

"Marco—" I say

Dr. Wiffen's face does not move "I urge you to listen to the medical advice you're paying for. We have reached a point of life or death"

My uncle quiets and then nods, and Dr. Wiffen leaves the room.

I stand up and wait for the door to close, and then I look at him.

"For crying out loud, why didn't you say something?"

"It's not your problem" he says

"All your problems are my problems" I exclaim

"I can take care of myself. You are my niece, not my mother"

"Yes, and as your niece, if you die, I'm the one who suffers!"

"I don't want to fight with you, not now"

I look at him and shake my head. I already know why he didn't say anything, and the reason barely matters now anyway.

His face is pale. He's hooked up to so many machines. He looks so small.

I feel another rush of anger. I press my lips together and close my eyes

"Okay" I say "So we will get ready for you to have the surgery"

"And I'll recover quickly and be back on the court with you in no time" he says

"Uncle, let's not get into that now"

"There's nothing to get into. This doesn't set us back at all"

"Marco...."

"Say they get me in tomorrow for the surgery; it goes well. What's recovery time? A week?" He takes my hand "This is a minor setback. By July we'll be ready for London"

"Va bene" I say

He picks up the remote control and turns on the television and pretends to watch it. So I sit back in the chair and let him.

Then, suddenly, he's yelling "I am not missing Wimbledon! We may never have another Wimbledon together, and I will not miss it!"

I put my head in my hands.

"Lo so gia " I say

"The last time we were there, I didn't know it was our Last. I didn't know that I might never coach you again. And I'm not letting this one slip through my goddamn fingers"

"I understand uncle" I say "I love you" He looks at me and for the first time in this conversation, he lets a frown take hold in the corners of his mouth.

And then, after he takes a breath, he says "Perdonami, mi dispiace davvero"

That night I ask the nurse to help me get a cot bed

"That won't be necessary" my uncle says

"Marco, I'm not leaving you here alone," I say

"Don't you think that I might like to be by myself?"

"Marco -"

"Sleep at home, Del. Please. And in the morning, please go out onto the court with a ball machine" he says "Do not stop training. You cannot atford to right now"

"I don't know about—"

"You're playing Wimbledon, Delaney Ricciardo"

The nurse excuses herself, and I sit down for a moment.

"You are not about to miss out on Wimbledon because of me Delaney"

"I'm not sure"

My uncle breathes out, a long and deep breath. He shakes his head. "Even if -I'm saying if—I can't be there," he says

I have to stop the corners of my mouth from pulling down.

"Ma, per favore, suonala ancora una volta. Ti piace giocare a Wimbledon. Per favore, fallo per me."

I cannot imagine leaving him. But I also know, right now, I'm not going to fight him.

"Okay" I say, but my voice was weak, and I was exhausted "for the time being, I'm saying I will"

"Thank you, my wonderful niece. But for now, go home" He seems determined

"Okay" I say, grabbing my bag "I'll see you in the morning"

"Come see me in the afternoon" he says "Every day, first you train. And then you can come see me after. But also don't feel like you need to visit me, if your in the zone and feel you want to practice more, make sure to practice more"

I shake my head as I smile at him. "Okay, I'll come tomorrow after I train." I grab his hand and squeeze it.

"See you tomorrow" he says

I walk down the hall and hit the elevator button.

As I wait, I can see out of the corner of my eye that there is a nurse at the station whose gaze lingers on me. She either knows who I am or is trying to figure out where she recognizes me from.

I realise immediately where she is probably recognising my face from. The tv behind her was playing a clip from the press conference I was at a couple of weeks ago, the one that I got really pissed off at a reporter and went off on him, the clip that has since gone viral across all social media's.

But I let her wonder as I get in the empty elevator.

When the doors of the elevator close, I fall back against the walls of the empty elevator and sink down into the floor.

"Please let him leave this hospital" I say, it's barley more than a whimper and I hate the sound of it

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