Storyteller

Chapter 23

Faith POV: 

We lie on the couch, both bare under a blanket in the living room. He kisses my forehead, still shaken after telling me the details of his dream. I rub his knuckles with my thumb, and rest my head on his chest. He places his hand on the back of my head, and draws circles on my scalp. 

"Can you do me a favor?" I finally ask, after thinking about it all day. He nods, as I look up at him. "Will you come to the doctor with me today?" I croak out, feeling my chest grow tight. He stares at me for a moment, before nodding hesitantly. 

"What's wrong?" He asks, sounding as if he were about to break out in a panic. I shake my head and shrug. 

"It's probably nothing. I've been just getting headaches, so they want me to get an MRI, that's all." I answer, reassuring him that it's nothing big. He lays his lips on the top of my head. 

"Sure." He responds, taking a deep breath. "What's the deal with us, Faith?" He asks. I bite my lip and take a long breath, trying to think of the best way to put it. I honestly don't know what we are. 

"I want you back home." I whisper, as if I would be punished by admitting it. "The press doesn't have to know till we feel comfortable about it. And we can figure it out with the girls and make sure that they're okay with it... And I guess we can just figure out this whole thing together." I start to ramble. I feel Tim grow a little tense. 

"I don't want to move too fast though, alright? I don't want to fall back into the way things used to be." He says, making my chest ache. I nod slowly. 

The drive to the hospital is short from Tim's apartment, leaving me little time to stress about what could be coming ahead. I always like to go straight to the worse case scenario, which is the worst thing I can do for my sanity. 

Tim holds my hand tightly as we walk back to the MRI room. The doctors invite him into the observation suite with them, so he can speak with me over the loudspeaker if the scan takes a while. They told me it can take anywhere from 20 to 45 minutes, so I should get comfortable. 

"Alright Faith, we are doing the first scan which should take about five minutes. Try your best to stay still, and relax." A female doctor says over the loudspeaker. I obey, and try to chill out my nerves. I look around the capsule-like contraption that surrounds me. It feels like a tomb. 

"I brought some music for you. You're doing great honey." I hear Tim's voice. I try my best not to smile,  in fears that I'll screw up the scan. George Strait starts to play in my little tomb, making me a little more comfortable. I shut my eyes, and take a deep breath, deciding to just relax. 

The sound of humming and banging begins to fill my ears more so than the music, making me feel anxious. My hands grab the blanket that's on me and squeeze it, trying to remain calm. I begin to pant, feeling like I'm about to have a panic attack. 

"Tim?" I call out, remembering there's a microphone in the room. I hear the intercom turn on. 

"Yeah honey?" He responds. 

"I'm scared." I answer, feeling myself start to shake.

"It's going to be okay. I promise. After this we'll..." He stops for a moment, before inhaling as if he were gasping. The intercom turns off for a moment, making me more anxious. 

"Alright Faith, you can relax. The first scan is done." The doctor says, sounding different than before. I lean up, looking into the observation room. Tim and the doctors hover around a computer. There's more doctors in there now then there was before. Tim's hand covers his mouth, as he points on the screen and talks to the new doctor. The doctor shrugs, before shaking his head. "Okay, time for the next test. Go ahead and lay back down and get comfortable." A doctor says. I lie down, and try not to get worked up. I'm sure I'm fine. 

After a half hour, the MRI is done. A new doctor comes in and gets me unhooked from the machines, and leads me to a meeting room. Tim holds onto my hand tightly, seeming a little off now. The new doctor asks me to sit down in one of the plush leather chairs, beside another that Tim has now plopped down in. I slowly sit, feeling my hands shake a little. Tim takes them both tightly inside of his hands, and places them on his knee. 

"Hi Ms Hill. I'm Dr Thomas, an Oncologist here at Vanderbilt University. We normally take a day or two to go over the MRI results with our patients, but yours were conclusive." He stops for a moment, and looks at both Tim and I. I look at Tim, feeling my throat grow tight. 

"Tim, what's wrong with me?" I start to cry. Tim bites his lip, and looks at the doctor for an answer. The doctor looks at me and places his hand on my knee. 

"Faith, you have stage three brain cancer." He pipes out. I freeze, feeling myself start to shake uncontrollably. I feel sick to my stomach as the doctor continues to talk. "It seems as if it's gone undetected for quite a while. This also seems to be the cause of your headaches. Now, Tim and I have discussed some possible routes of treatment. Your best chance right now to decrease symptoms and increase your chances of recovery is to have a surgery to remove most of, if not all of, the tumor. Of course there are options like radiation and chemotherapy, but sometimes that can have some pretty substantial side-effects." The doctor slams my way all at once. 

"How long..." I spit out, removing my hands from Tim's and hugging myself tightly. Tim looks at me, before leaning back, seeming deflated. The doctor looks at Tim for a moment. 

"Without treatment, you'll have about two months." He says, as if he were punching me in the stomach. "With the surgery, you could heal completely." 

"What's the likely-hood of healing?" I question. Tim shuts his eyes tightly. The doctor looks down at his file. 

"A little under 30%." He admits, making me feel limp. I nod quickly, and stand up, going to walk out of the room. Tim stands up and tries to stop me by wrapping his arms around me. I push him away, and walk out to the car alone. 

Tim comes out fifteen minutes later with handfuls of papers. He gets in the truck without a word, and sticks the key in the ignition, before leaning back and taking a deep breath. He looks over at me and sighs.

"Honey, tell me what to do." He says, biting his lip. I shake my head, and look toward him. 

"Stay with me, and help me tell the girls." I say, rubbing my hands on my thighs. He nods slowly, and backs out of the parking garage.