All of Me

2

Demi

People always throw the "I had a bad day" card around like its nothing. They say they have a bad day when their car brakes down, they spill coffee on themselves, they're late to work, etc. but nobody knows a bad day until you find out your child has a tumor in her brain.

Nobody knows a bad day until you have to schedule your daughters brain surgery, chemo days, and radiation to follow. Nobody.

"Can you not get her in sooner?" Wilmer asked angrily, staring daggers through the doctor.

Ella is in my lap, just staring at her sister in disbelief. Alaska hasn't said a word or moved a muscle. Her face is the same as it was before the doctor said anything. Her gaze is straightforward, unable to show emotion and it's scaring the hell out of me.

"I'm sorry, I'm booked until two weeks. Two weeks is actually early for a brain surgery as intense as this one and-"

"Two weeks is not early!" I yelled, making Ella jump, "My daughter has a tumor in her brain, and you need to get it out now!"

"I'm sorry, but I cannot. The tumor she has stays the same size 70% of the time, and if it were to grow, it would take a lot of time. She can await the surgery and if I thought she couldn't, I would do it right this instant. I do assure you, you'd want us to prepare as well as we can for perfect results." He explained, as he does everyday. Well, fuck that. He may be used to this, but I am not.

"You get my daughter in right this instant or I swear to go-" I started to say, before I got interrupted.

"Stop!" Alaska yelled, making everything and everyone fall silent. "I'm ready to go."

I wanted to say no, shake her repeatedly and ask her if she understands what's happening. She has a tumor in her brain! How is she not freaking out? How could she be so calm if she could possibly lose her life this soon?

"Then let's go," Wilmer said, standing up. Through his anger, he shook the doctors hand and thanked him. I couldn't even look at him considering he didn't even try to get her in sooner- I know he didn't.

Alaska led the way to the elevator, one foot in front of the other. She stood tall, posture perfect, didn't hang her head, didn't look sad. I wish I was as strong as her.

We all stood silent in the elevator as the floors slowly went by. No one is saying a word and we're all thinking the same thing.

"Alaska," I said, gently holding onto her arm, "It's going to be okay."

The elevator doors opened and she shook my hand off her arm before walking out, "I know."

Out of all times, why shut me out now? I need her to need me. I want to know what she's really feeling.. I can't let her slip away this easily.

"Leave her be," Wilmer muttered beside me so the girls wouldn't hear, "She'll come to you when she's ready."

I didn't say anything back. I just wish I knew how Wilmer isn't over there, weeping to his child. This feeling I have in my gut is one I'll never get used to. How is everyone fine?

We all walked outside, into the open air where our car was waiting for us. I watch as people walk down the street, look both ways before turning their car, talk on their phones, and I'm left to wonder how they can live so normally when Alaska has a tumor. Alaska has cancer and the world is still moving, but mine is not.

"Mom," Ella said, breaking me from my trance, "Come on."

I slipped into the car, shutting the door. Wilmer grips the steering wheel as Alaska gets into the back even though I offered her the passenger seat. It hits me now that I have to tell family that my daughter has cancer. I felt bile trickle my throat.