The Beginning of the End Of My Life

Chapter 4

At home, I only had about an hour to myself before my brother came home. He'd been asleep when I got home from the hospital last night, and he wasn't up by the time I left, so I hadn't seen him in more than a day. I was sitting on the couch, watching TV with my ankle propped up on a pillow when he burst through the door, opening it so fast that the door hit the wall and bounced back at him a little. He wasn't the most graceful person, so it was a wonder that he hadn't broken any bones yet. He dropped his backpack, kicked off his shoes, and sprinted toward me, a huge grin on his face.

“Lizzy!” He hit me at nearly full speed, knocking the wind out of me and squeezing me tightly. “You're okay!”

“Yeah, I'm alright. Careful, Alex, I don't want broken ribs to top this off,” I laughed.

“Sorry.” He let go and backed off a little, looking sheepish. “I was worried about you.”

So that's Alex, my younger brother. He's in seventh grade, and he's got the biggest heart you've ever seen on a boy his age. He'd do anything for the people he loves, and being his big sister and only sibling, I'm pretty high on the list.

“So how was your day?” I asked him. His face lit up when I asked. He loved school, another not-so-normal thing about seventh grade boys. He loved talking about what he was learning, especially in science, his favorite subject.

He talked about a lab they were doing in science class, what was going on in math class (which confused even me), the paper he was writing for English, and what he and his friends talked about at lunch. The smile on his face never wavered from the full-blown grin he'd started with.

When he was done, I asked, “Do you want to play the Wii?” We liked to play MarioKart together, and while he was infinitely better than I was, I still had fun playing with him all the same. Like I suspected, he was all for it.

We played multiple races, with him always in first or second and me in the bottom four. I just couldn't get the hang of steering with a stick, no matter how many times he showed me or how closely I watched his hands. I wasn't very good at regular driving either.

Alex had just beaten me at another race and was doing a little victory dance around the living room (it looked like the Macarena with a little foot shuffling) when my mom walked in with a concerned look on her face, holding the phone.

“Alex,” she said, “Can you give me and Lizzy a minute to talk?” He nodded and bounced his way out of the room, probably up to his bedroom. I looked over at my mom. “Mom? What's going on?”

She took a deep breath, then sighed. “It was the doctor, from the hospital. They want you to come in as soon as possible. They told me not to worry, but I just can't help it.”

“Did they say anything else? Do we have to go now?”

“That was it, but it sounded like we really need to get there now.”

I groaned and dropped my head back on the pillow behind me. Why did I have to go back now? They said they wouldn't do anything to the cast for six weeks. What could be going on?

“Honey? Come on, we should go. You go on out to the car; I'll write a note to Dad and tell Alex that we're leaving, okay?”

I nodded, eyes closed, and didn't move until I heard her walk away. I pushed myself up, swung my legs off the couch, and grabbed for my crutches. By the time I was getting out the door, Mom was right behind me. We got into the car silently, and drove out of our neighborhood to the sound of the engine.

The ride to the hospital was quiet, and the tension in the air was so thick I could have cut it with a knife. I could hear Mom breathing, in and out in a regular, counted pattern; something she did when she was really worried. By the time we made it to the hospital, I was already wanting to go home.

We pulled into the parking lot, and Mom cut the engine and sighed. She looked over at me and said, “No matter what they tell us, I want you to know that I love you and will support you with all of my heart.” She was starting to get teary-eyed, and what she said was kind of freaking me out. She reached over to hug me.

When she finally let go, we both got out of the car and started making our way up to the hospital entrance, her walking and me still trying to get used to the crutches. The lobby was too bright, and smelled strongly of cleaners. I sat down while Mom went to the desk and told the receptionist that we were here to talk to Nurse Rebekah and one of the doctors she worked under. The receptionist nodded, and Mom came to sit down next to me.

We didn't have to wait long for the doctors. An older, weary-looking man walked into the lobby and asked the receptionist something. She pointed at us, and he walked over. “Are you Mrs. Jones and Elizabeth Jones?” We nodded. “I'm Doctor Anderson. Come with me.” He turned and started walking away, slowly, so that I could get to my feet (or, more technically, foot). Dr. Anderson didn't talk as we walked through the hallways, but it didn't take long for us to get to a room. We all sat down, and Dr. Anderson took a deep breath.

“Elizabeth,” he said, “your blood tests didn't come back clean. I know this is going to be hard to hear, but there's a very large chance you have cancer – leukemia. If it's not cancer, there's something very wrong with your blood.”