Head Above Water

25. Cripple

Two and a half weeks and what felt like hundreds of tests later, I was headed back into school. The doctors had confirmed my tumor was indeed, inoperable. In fact, it was in such a difficult area of my brain that it was too risky to even perform a biopsy, which was the usual method they used to classify the tumor. Consequently, we still didn’t know what type of tumor I had or if it was growing.

The not knowing was almost the worst part of it all. My mom and I had been given an exhausting rundown on radiation and chemotherapy treatments, but we couldn’t move forward until the tumor was classified. That wouldn’t happen until all of my test results were back. The hospital had rushed them, but since I’d inconveniently chosen to fall during the holidays, there wasn’t much else my doctor could do to speed things along.

Every single day during the break save Christmas had been taken up by tests. I’d been examined, injected, scanned and had more blood drawn that I even thought I had. When they’d taken the 18th blood sample I had the morbid thought that it must take a vampire forever to drain someone dry—much longer than how it’s shown in movies.

That thought led me to think about the fact that, even though I was surrounded by the supernatural—with vampires as friends and even being attacked by one—I was going to die a very normal, human death. I’d actually laughed in an almost crazed way after that, completely weirding out the nurse who was taking my blood sample.

Surprisingly, aside from my one outburst the day after I fell, I wasn’t freaking out too much yet. I think part of it was that I was still in shock, but the other part was because I knew it was useless to worry. Worrying wouldn’t make me feel better. It wouldn’t heal my tumor. Besides, my mom was worried enough for the both of us. I could tell she was absolutely terrified, and even though I was pretty darned scared myself, I needed to stay calm for her. I hadn’t cried since the day of my diagnosis, but my mom had. She tried to hide it from me, but I could hear her sobbing quietly in her room at night.

What I couldn’t seem to suppress though, was my anger. I was so mad at everything—life, fate, my body, my doctor, the hospital. The only thing I managed to not be mad at was my mom, but when I wasn’t with her I felt like I was a powder keg ready to explode at any moment.

I needed a swim. I was aching to get in the pool and beat my frustrations out on the water. Unsurprisingly, I wasn’t allowed to. Until we knew more about my condition, the doctor had deemed it too risky to get in the water, so instead I fumed in silence; they were treating me like I was a cripple.

“Don’t forget to file your doctor’s note with the nurse. Call me if you don’t feel well, okay? And be careful around the stairs,” my mom instructed, breaking me out of my angry musings. She’d driven me to school this morning—an action I was sure would now become the regular routine.

I stared moodily out the window watching my classmates pass by smiling and laughing, blissfully ignorant of life’s cruelties. Everything I’d worried about mere weeks ago—grades, swim training, theater, even the frustrations regarding Mal and Rick—seemed so trivial now.

“Make sure to stay with your friends at all times. Just in case any—”

“I know, mom!” I snapped. I grabbed my backpack and threw the door open, pulling myself roughly out of the car. The minute I felt the cool winter air on my face, I took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. I leaned back into the car and caught my mom’s eye. “Sorry.”

She gave me a sad sort of smile. “I’ll pick you up at three.”

I nodded and closed the door then turned to walk into the school. Before I’d even turned all the way around I was tackled with a rib-cracking hug.