Rachel
I was so sick of tests and doctor’s appointments. I heard words like Bleomycin and Vinblastine. Doctors talked about cycles and white blood cell counts and side effects ranging from vomiting to hair loss to diarrhea. I felt as if I were driving in a thick fog, unable to see beyond the immediate and afraid that I was going to go off the road and smash into a tree at any moment.
My oncologist explained that I’d receive chemotherapy intravenously. We’d go through cycles and there’d be a rest in-between them.
“The drugs will travel through your bloodstream and kill the lymphoma cells,” he said. “After a few cycles, we’ll take a PET scan and see if it’s working. When you’re finished with the chemo, we’ll probably have you get radiation. Given your stage, I’d said you have a ninety percent chance of beating this.”
I tried not to think about dying, but that was impossible. Worse yet, I felt like I had to stuff all of my emotions inside of me and hide them from Piper. I didn’t want to worry her. I found myself searching Pinterest for inspirational quotes one minute and melting the next into a pungent puddle of self-pity. I drifted through the stages of grief during those first few days – denial, anger, bargaining, sadness and depression. I hadn’t quite gotten to acceptance.
I thought about all of the things I wanted to do with my life, and I cursed God for giving me this disease, for once again spinning me around so that I fell down instead of going in the direction I’d wanted. I was tired and weak and, despite having Piper and Mary, there were times when I felt completely alone.
I was waiting for Mary and Piper to come home from shopping. Mary wanted to take me shopping for a new bedroom set, too, but I’d told her it wasn’t necessary. “I’m good with used stuff,” I’d told her. “It’s about all I ever got anyway.”
Mary had scolded me. “Rachel, money is something I have a lot of. Let me spend some on you.”
“Save it for Piper,” I’d said. “She might need it if something happens to me.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Mary had said. “I have the best doctors on your case. We’ll get you through this.”
I heard a car door slam. “Finally, they were home.”
I opened the door expecting to see Mary and Piper and instead came face to face with Piper’s dad.
He stumbled toward my door and he was yelling something but his speech was so slurred I couldn’t make it out. I slammed the door and locked it with the dead bolt. Seconds later I heard pounding. “Open this door you bitch! Letz me sees my Pip-per!”
I texted Mary.
Don’t bring Piper home.
Her dad is here.
He’s banging on the door.
Mary texted back.
I’m calling police.
Within minutes I heard sirens and then saw the flashing lights. Piper’s dad became even more agitated and banged on the door harder and faster. “Letz me in yous bitch!”
Piper’s dad turned to run away from the police but stumbled and fell face down on the sidewalk. I watched from the window as two cops walked toward him. Then he did something I don’t think anyone expected. He pulled a gun on the cops.
“Backs away,” he yelled. “Or I’ll shoot.”
“Put down the gun,” the one cop said. “This doesn’t have to go this way. Just put the gun down and come with me.”
There was more shouting and then Piper’s dad fired a shot, but it wasn’t toward the cops, it was toward me.