12 Last Words

I Never Left

I opened my eyes. Upon their opening I expected to see a world of white. A golden gate lining the expanse, or maybe the long, brown haired man with sandals standing before me I was told would meet me after death. But instead I woke up to the same sight as I fell asleep too. I looked around astonished to see the sleeping figure of my mother in the chair draped with a blanket. The shadow of my father brewing coffee through the doorway. I heard the shower running in the guest bathroom and I assumed Fletch was the one occupying it. 

I don't understand. How.... could I still be here? I felt so much better yesterday than I had in the month before. Death was finally relieving me of pain and still I'm here. Thinking about it I realized the constant hurt in my head had alleviated overnight. It was still there but it had diminished into a dull ache. I felt better. Not good but better. What kind of Christmas miracle this was I don't know. 

But that was impossible. The doctor sent me home. He gave up. I was dying, no more medicine, no more hospital stays. Yet, here I am. "Mom?" I whispered, my voice hoarse from lack of use. She stirred and popped up at the realization that I had spoken. "Della?" She looked at me and smiled after being assured that I had spoken. "What do you need Honey?" "I feel better Mom. I feel like I did right after they removed the first tumor and took me off chemo." She had tears pouring down her face. Whether they were tears of concern that my mind tricked me into feeling better or because she genuinely believed I did. 

She called my Dad in from the kitchen and told him what I had said. I started to feel tired and sick but still not as bad as the past week. I slept in and out of the day but I never once thought that It would be the last closing of my eyes. The next week was spent at home. Everyday I woke up in a little less pain. I felt a bit stronger. The biggest change though was the amount of hope I had to see my life continue. 

***

Almost a week from the morning I woke up on my favorite couch instead of at the foot of the pearly gates, my parents took me into the hospital to administer tests. In just a few days I had felt better than I had in the past month. My parents were ecstatic to see that they could lift me into my wheelchair without grunting with pain. That being wheeled through the hospital doors didn't give me unbearable nausea. 

Once IV's were inserted and I was laid in bed we waited for the doctor to come in. I found myself flipping through news coverages of New Year's parties. I was exceedingly thankful that I would be here to celebrate the new year. A couple hours into our stay my primary oncologist came in. He looked up from his charts at me then back down to his charts again with his eyebrows furrowed. "Della Rosser. What are you doing back here today?" He looked perplexed. "I believe we chose to discontinue treatment and put you into hospice care?"

"You did." I stated matter of factly. "But I feel better. I feel like I'm not dying. Like I'm healing." He looked at me with a sad somber expression. "I believe that this relapse to health may just be a mental cognition reaction. Sometimes when patients fear death or want to avoid it their mind tries to defer itself by convincing it that their death is not going to occur. " The doctor's statement removed the smiles that graced my parents faces.

 "However," The doctor continued, "I want to run some tests and scans because the blood sample taken when you arrived shows normal white blood cell count which is unusual for a patient of your predicament. If you would like we can complete these tests. I don't want to give you false hope but in some special cases the scans detect tumors wrong and sometimes formations and shadows in the scans can allow us to misdiagnose. I just have to pull up the rest of your file and some paperwork. So what would you like to do?" He stopped and looked between my parents and I. 

"I would like to do as many tests as you think are necessary." I responded. "We will do just that with your parents permission. " He looked at my parents who nodded and headed out to retrieve paperwork. "It was nice to see you again, Della." He smiled and I smiled back. I pulled out my phone to call Fletcher and update him, as he had to go back home two days ago. So between today and tomorrow I will be poked and prodded and scanned in a multitude of ways, hopefully this time  I will get some answers that I want.