When I Die [Wattys 2016]

Chapter 14: The Way Up

Those two days went by in a blur of sleeping, pain, pain medicine and doctors. The doctors kept checking up on me, pushing me on my side. They undid and redid my bandage.
Lisa, the child life specialist, came in on the second day and told me we could decorate my room, if I wanted. She brought a 500 dollar Target card, which was gifted by a Lutheran church that was downtown. She handed me some papers, a pamphlet of decoration ideas. I thanked her and she asked me if I needed anything else. I said I didn't think so. If I did, I could always call her, she reminded me.

My mom finally came that evening, I was so happy to see her again, and she was relieved I was doing okay.

She brought me a painting that Hattie made for me, it was her and I, holding hands. For some reason, we were standing on top of a house. And, I noticed, I had hair, a brown splotch, scribbled, floating over my head. Hattie had a huge smile, hand holding mine. Mom helped me pin it up above my bed.

Mom told me that Aaron's baby was due in about twelve weeks. They knew the gender, but they were keeping it a secret until the baby was born. They'd also, she said, chosen a name, but that was obviously a surprise along with the gender. They wanted me and my mom to be there, and hoped I would be out of the hospital by then. I doubted it.

Mom brought me new clothes, books, pens and pencils, my laptop, DVDs, the works. All kinds of things to keep myself occupied, which was good because I had plenty of time.

We sat together, her and I, reveling in our reunion. She'd missed me, and I'd certainly missed her. I was so afraid I'd not be able to see her again. My mom was the only person in my entire family that spoke my language. I'd always been very close with my mom. It'd always been that way. Aaron and my dad could talk about, whatever, surfing, and swimming, and athleticism. And Sam and my dad could talk about whatever the hell it was that they talked about. Of course, everyone loved Hattie. Hattie was cute, and funny, and sweet. But my dad... he didn't even come visit me. And why? Would he visit Aaron? Yes. Would he visit Sam? Yes. Would he visit Hattie? Of course, hell he probably wouldn't leave. But why not me? What was so awful about me that he wouldn't even come see me? Mom said that he was just busy with work, that he sent his love. Well, if he wanted to send his love, he could have brought it himself.

After a few days or recovery, I realized the surgery had been like a night and day difference. I felt so much better. I could eat! I went for walks around the hospital. I could sit up and down with ease. Day by day, things got easier.

Those next two weeks passed in a lull. I wasn't doing much, just laying around, as usual. I was poked, and stuck, and drawn from until I felt like I had nothing else to give. My mom stayed with me, bringing Hattie some afternoons to visit. She'd lost her first tooth. Sam even came to visit a couple times. Reid and Myra came several times and brought video games.

Finally, the day came when we would hear the results of the surgery. My stomach was healing up well, I was told that I was doing great, considering. They kept a close eye on it. The doctors came in and out that evening. They spoke with my mom, telling her all kinds of things in medical language, then in layman's terms. They went on and on about counts, blood counts, infection prevention, tumors, they went on and on and on and I thought they'd never stop, she just kept nodding and nodding and nodding. But then, oh, but then they said something I understood.

They said, "it worked".

And my mom's eyes lit up. And she looked over at me, and I felt my heart leap a bit. And the doctors said it was a miracle. They said that they'd never gotten that much of a tumor out of such a dangerous spot before. They said I was a living miracle.

They said they wanted to keep me for another week to see how I was doing. Then, they said, I could go home, if the tumors stayed gone. I'd still need to do treatments, radiology, chemotherapy, the works. But the growth was, at least for now, stopped. The tumors were out of my stomach, and my blood was getting better by the day. My counts were almost normal, and although I wasn't out of the woods yet, they estimated I'd be able to see the end within a few months.

It was all such a whirlwind. It was so fast. Are they sure? How can they be sure?

It was the first time in months I'd felt true relief. I felt like they were giving me hope, something to hold on to. Home. I can go home. I wanted to tell Ophelia, but, I hadn't even seen her since the day before my surgery. I wondered if she'd been discharged.

My mom and I hugged, she had tears on her cheeks. Angela came in and celebrated with me, she brought me a doughnut from the break room, she winked as she handed it to me,

"Our secret," she said.

Reid and Myra came by that evening and I got to tell them the good news.

"You mean, like, you're coming home to live?" Reid asked. I understood his confusion, because, well, in the world of cancer, "coming home" isn't always a good thing. Sometimes you're coming home to live. Other times, you're coming home to die. I assured him it was a good thing this time.

Myra smiled, an actual, giant smile. She hugged me, and said,

"That's so good, Leo. Now I don't have to just hang out with this dweeb all the time," she pointed to Reid, who responded with,

"You know, she's right actually. I'm even getting tired of hanging out with me. We miss you."

It was the best day since the Worst Day. I couldn't wrap my mind around being anywhere other than those four walls. I still had a lot of healing to do, I knew that. The woods I was in were still dark and foggy, and the trail I walked was treacherous, but there was a trail. I could find my way out. I wasn't dying. I was living. I was going to grow up, I was going to go to school, I was going to find a girl, maybe Ophelia, I would get to know her better, when I wasn't sleeping 20 hours a day, I would marry her, and have lots of babies, and a house, and a job. I'd travel, and see the world. I was alive.

The woods were dark and narrow, but there was light coming in from the outside, and my death sentence was reduced to, well, maybe just a long sentence. Maybe just a sentence where I got beat up in prison, but then released.

Two weeks later, and I was sent home. I could walk, and talk, and stand up on my own. Hell, I even dressed myself.

I was on the way up, baby.

Writers note:
Hi guys! I hope you're still enjoying this story. I am having fun writing it. I've finally closed up the holes which I was in the process of rewriting. Now I have all the way until the end of the story written already! I will post a couple chapters every day. I hope you all are still reading and enjoying. I do appreciate every single view. If you all would like to comment anything regarding the story please do! I would love for this to be interactive. I am always down for a read for read as well! Just drop me a line. :-)
Lex