When I Die [Wattys 2016]

Chapter 2: Sing

After the doctor delivered the news, my mom made it approximately twenty minutes before breaking down. I knew she tried to keep it together for me but I expected her to break down, and I would have been freaked out if she did anything else. My dad acted indifferent. He acted like he expected me to be fine, like it was no big deal. Like his kids are diagnosed with cancer every day of the year, as casual as a cold. I tried my best to act that way, too. For my mom's sake, I'd "press on". 

In the exam room, Dr. Ballard handed us a box of tissues, told us he would refer us to a pediatric oncology specialist, patted my shoulder and smiled a rehearsed smile. He left. Soon after, a nurse came in and handed us a clipboard with forms to fill out and a handful of pamphlets. "Coping With Pediatric Cancer" was written in bold across the top of one, a stock photo of a middle-aged woman hugging her weirdly chipper looking bald son graced the page as well. I hope cancer doesn't make me that chipper. The doctor came back in and examined the rest of me. He ran a bag of fluids and scanned my chest. I felt better than I had in days. He wanted to keep me for a few days for observation, he said. I would be out within the week.

It's funny, the thing I thought was heartbreak, while it was huge to me, is insignificant to an alien person. It turns out, it's also insignificant to God. And I realized that whatever God I thought was out there before was absolutely not sold on giving me a break. I'd learned all my life that God was love. God is love. Love is God. Love one another. Love as Jesus loved you. This leads people to think that God would never hurt them. I love my mom— I'd never give her cancer. There's not a lesson in this world that would be worth that. God, if He is out there, is not all sunshine and rainbows. God has a wrath, it's written in the bible. 

And so, bad things happen to good people. And bad things certainly happen to sort-of okay people like me.

My mom made every effort to act like everything was okay. I knew she was barely holding it together. I heard them, late at night, while she sat beside me and whispered into the phone to my father from her visitor's cot. Her, begging him to say it wasn't real. Him, confirming it's realness, but assuring her I'd be alright. Her, crying that nothing can happen to her little boy. Him, saying that I'm not a little boy, that I'm a man, that I'll fight this, that I'll win. Soon after, the nurses came in and shot me up with a hefty dose of medicine, despite my protests, "to help me sleep". I hated medicine. I had always been scared of altering my consciousness, I didn't like how it made me feel out of control of myself, but, I realized now, I wasn't really ever in control of myself. I fell asleep to the sound of my mom asking God to take care of me.

On the third night of my stay, I'd been given extra medicine to help me sleep, but I woke up around three AM and noticed my IV had been pulled loose a bit and I was bleeding. The machine was beeping to alert the nurses, who didn't come.I looked over at my restless and weary mom and decided against bothering her. I struggled with my sheets for a minute and then padded down the hallway in search of a nurse.
On my way down the hallway, I heard someone singing. The hallway was completely empty, although well-lit. I rolled with my IV pole trying to find the singer. I turned into a classroom, and there sat a girl, alone in the room. She had black hair down to her waist. She had her back turned to me, staring out the window. She kept singing beautifully, nothing in particular, more just vocalizations. I listened for a second in awe before stepping forward. My IV wire was wrapped around a globe that sat on the shelves by the door, and it clambered over in a loud crash. I was stunned. I reached over to pick it up. She stopped singing and turned to face me.

"Uh... I'm... I'm sorry..." I stammered.

Side note: I know I'm coming across as very klutzy at this point... I can neither confirm nor deny this. I have a way of getting people's attention. I wouldn't consider myself a nerd, fumbling around, dropping books and embarrassing himself in front of girls... just a regular guy fumbling around, dropping books and embarrassing himself in front of girls. I thought about it once, and decided I'm not a nerd, I have nerd-like tendencies, but I don't hang out with any one group of people. I'm accepted by the nerds just as well as I am by the jocks and the emo kids. I don't really have deep relationships with them, but I can sit with any of them at lunch and do just fine.

Regardless of all that, I was mortified for my first impression with the singer.

The girl smiled, she had perfect teeth and perfect pink lips.

She said, "Oh, no... it's okay. Were you listening for long? Did I wake you?"

I shook my head. "No, no,...just for a second... and no, I woke up because my... well, I'm trying to find a nurse." She nodded. "Well, I haven't seen any. Maybe they're downstairs." I shrugged. "It's really okay, I just... I'll probably just go back to my room, I'm sure they'll be there soon." When I said that, my IV pole started beeping quickly. I think that meant the battery was running low. She nodded again, without saying anything.

I quickly added, "Well, you sing beautifully, by the way." I started to try to maneuver my IV pole out the door.

"Thank you, that's really sweet of you. What's your name?" She asked.

"Uh, it's Leo, I'm just down the hallway." I answered.

She said, "Okay, well maybe I'll see you around sometime?"

I nodded, a little more eager than I'd like to have appeared. I went back down the hallway to my room. My mom was still asleep, thankfully. I entered very quietly and plugged my pole back in. I climbed into the bed and covered up, I was asleep within minutes.

The next morning, when I woke up, I realized my IV was fixed. Thankfully, they came and did it while I was asleep. My mom was eating breakfast and watching the morning news. My breakfast was sitting on the tray beside my bed.

"Morning, sweetie, how'd you sleep?" She asked, through a bite of toast.

"Okay, my IV was starting to pull last night. I tried to find someone to fix it, but I guess they did after I came back and fell asleep." I said, unpacking my breakfast.

"Well they must be super quiet... I didn't hear a thing, and you know I'm a super light sleeper!" she replied, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

I wanted to tell mom about the girl in the classroom, but I realized then that I didn't even know the girl's name. How rude of me, I frowned, I didn't even ask her name.

That afternoon, Dr. Ballard came in to tell me that all my wounds, from my scrape from falling in the library, to hitting the counter with my head, were finally healing up nicely, given the circumstances. He told me I'd be able to go home the next day after a few blood tests. I almost asked about the girl, in hopes I'd be able to see her again, but I decided just to be relieved to be going home. I decided I wanted to keep my hospital life at the hospital. Home was waiting on me.