One year after my diagnosis, I was back at the Cancer Center. This time, I was there solely as Jane’s friend.
Tom and I spoke almost every day about the house we were building together and to update me on Jane’s health. After feeling quite well for months, Jane had been going downhill fast over the past several weeks. Most days she didn’t even attempt to get out of bed. The visiting nurse Tom hired could only do so much. Everyone knew the time was coming when Jane would need around-the-clock care to manage the pain that had become more and more debilitating. Hospice would be the final stop on Jane’s journey.
Tom could barely speak when he told me Jane was coming to see the Hospice coordinator to start putting things in place to allow them to step in. While he wanted his mother to be free from the pain, he couldn’t manage coming with her to sign what amounted to her admission of defeat. If accompanying Jane that day eased Tom’s burden, I was happy to rearrange my schedule to be there.
Now that I managed a team of six analysts, I left instructions with Greg Blankenshipp to text me if anyone needed me. I could no longer call Greg Garlic Breath since he and Peter were on a macrobiotic diet to help Peter recover after his cancer treatment. Things change. The two men who were my least favorite co-workers a year ago had turned out to be my most valuable team members. They worked well together and seemed to appreciate the freedom I gave them as members of my team.
The hospital reception lobby was bustling with activity that afternoon as I helped Jane through the door. “Do you need to sit down?” I asked. “Tom told me to put you in a wheelchair. Do you want me to get you one?”
“Maybe you could push me from here to the waiting room. When we get to the appointment though, I want to walk in there on my own steam.” Jane looked at the long line of people waiting to check in. “If you don’t mind checking me in, I think I might just sit over there on that bench for a while.” Jane and I edged over to a low bench in front of the windows. Before I left her, I wrapped her favorite dove gray silk shawl over her shoulders to keep the air conditioning’s chill from making her shiver more than she already was. I wished I could do more for her.
There were a dozen people ahead of me in the line. My mind wandered to my plans to run with Sebastian then go back to his place for tacos that evening. I felt guilty for feeling so happy when Jane was gravely ill, yet I knew Jane wanted me to be happy. Every time we spoke, Jane pumped me for details about our plans to visit London and Paris over Sebastian’s Christmas vacation as well as the progress on the house.
After I finally collected Jane’s itinerary, I located a wheelchair and disinfected it the way Tom had shown me. It was very important to avoid exposing Jane to germs. Her lungs were so weak at this point that the common cold could kill her. I got her settled in the chair and leisurely pushed her down the green path to the oncology waiting room.
I parked Jane in the corner of the room and sat on the moss-colored settee I was sitting on when we first met. “Do you want me to find one of those warm blankets for you?”
“No thanks, sweetie. I’m okay with my shawl.” Jane laid her thin, cold hand on mine. “Have you made an appointment yet with your new oncologist?”
“Dr. Obatu gave me a few names. I want to interview them with my clothes on before I let them examine me. If I am going to have to see this person every few months for years on end, they better be nice.”
“Good for you. Take charge.” Jane leaned toward me. I could smell her gardenia perfume. “Can you believe it has been only a year since we met right over there? So much has happened.”
“I know, I was thinking the same thing a few minutes ago.”
“You were such a mess that day,” Jane chuckled. Laughing brought on a coughing jag, but it passed quickly. I held Jane’s shoulders while she coughed. I could feel each contour of her shoulder blade through her blouse. Eventually her breathing recovered and she patted my arm thankfully.
“I’m so glad we met,” Jane smiled. “I don’t know if I could have gotten through all this without you.”
“I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who was always helping me. You called me and stood up for me and, well, gave a damn.”
“Exactly, you gave me something else to think about when things got too dicey inside my own head. When I got tired of brooding about my cancer, I could brood about yours, and, let’s face it—yours turned out a whole lot better. It’s been a tough year, but look at you now. You’re healthy, you have a great new job, you’re building your dream house, and you have a promising young man. What more could you want?”
I shook my head. “It’s not quite a fairy tale ending.”
“It never really is, sweetie.” We watched a couple enter the room and sit down in the chairs across from us. They looked terrified.
“Oh my gosh, I almost forgot. I have something for you.” Jane shifted in the wheelchair so she could pull a small envelope out of her pocket. She took my hand and shook into my palm the tiny Eiffel Tower that had been on her charm bracelet. “I want you to start your own charm bracelet with this. I want you to go to so many places that your bracelet ends up even more crowded than mine.”
“I’ll make an effort.” I pulled my grandmother’s chain from beneath my blouse and slid the charm on next to Grammy’s silver cross as I blinked back the tears that burned behind my eyes. Jane had forbidden me to cry for her. I slipped the chain back over my head. “You know, I told Sebastian that we have to climb the Eiffel Tower when we’re in Paris.”
Jane bit her lip as she squeezed my hand. Her grip was still strong. “Make sure you leave plenty of time to eat croissants and drink lots of wine, too. Live the whole experience, not just the hard parts.”