The Moments

Chapter Two

MADELYN SHEEN

I wake up in a hospital bed. It doesn't take much deducing to come to this conclusion. I wish I could say this was an unusual occurrence, but it's not. I fell asleep in my bed last night and I'm frustrated, but not exactly surprised to find myself waking up in Bellevue Hospital. My eyes are open, but the lights are blinding and it takes me several blinks to adjust. Everything has a sleepy haze over it, like I'm looking into a mirror in a steamy room. It's relaxing in a way. Like if I keep my eyes open the corners of my vision will just fade and I'll sink into the bed. I almost allow myself to doze back off, but then there is a hand on my arm and I jolt.

    "Welcome back." It's my father. His voice is soft and smooth, but I can feel his hand subtly shaking. I stare blankly at him, not really wanting to talk, just waiting for him to. "You passed out in the kitchen yesterday. The doctors say it was probably your anemia."

That makes sense, I think. The anemia is a symptom of my cancer. I get lightheaded from time to time, but the passing out is a sign that it's acting up. It's a sign that something is bad. Something is wrong. I feel weak and small. Unable to handle tough news, but it's unavoidable. I wait for my dad to keep talking, but instead he stands up.

    "I'm gonna go get the doctor," he says looking around the room as if he might just step out of a corner. He looks at me for a long minute, expecting me to say something, but I just nod my head in agreement. "Okay," he concludes, tapping the arm of the chair. "Okay."

    He's getting the doctor because there's something he doesn't want to say to me and I don't mind. It's better coming from a stranger. My dad would cry and I think we're both very tired of him crying. My mom on the other hand wouldn't bullshit me. She would tell me what was wrong and what we were going to do about it. She's in jail. I try not to think about it.

    I sit up, pushing through my body's protest, and reach for my phone. It's buzzing with alerts, mostly reminders to take my meds, some messages, nothing out of the ordinary. I tap into the calendar app to see what I'm missing today. Apparently I was supposed to be babysitting tonight which sucks because I could really use the money. I send a quick text to the neighbors to let them know I won't be able to make it, but I leave out the why. They can be mad that I bailed last minute. I don't feel like explaining myself.

    My dad returns with Dr. Jem. He's a tall, lean fellow with an almost British accent and what I believe is mild Tourette's. From time to time he'll scrunch up his nose like he's sniffing something. I've heard that it's a tic commonly seen in crackheads, but Dr. Jem is too pristine to even think of something as damaging as drugs. He walks in and humbly stands beside my bed. His bulbous nose scrunches as he greets me.

    "Let's get right to it then." He reaches for my chart with his right hand, his left clutches a series of x-ray-like images and scans. I hate it when they do scans while I'm unconscious. God only knows how invasive it all was. He holds up a picture that just looks like a black and white blob to me. He points at various parts of the blob and tells me what they are, but I still don't understand, and frankly, I don't care. He said he would get straight to the point, yet here we are. Stalling.

    "Basically, the anemia has been mild and easily controlled up to this point. However, here you can see that most of the bone marrow has been replaced by tumor cells which are limiting your ability to produce red blood cells." He pauses to let me take this in, as though I understand what will happen next. Should I know what's going to happen next? If I should, I don't. So I wait. It's a painful 4 seconds of what I think is a staring contest between me and Dr. Jem. I'm definitely winning though because every time his nose jumps up, his narrow eyes close briefly.