THE SOFT NOTES OF A CELLO SET OFF A TIDAL WAVE THROUGH Kendra’s body. She took a deep breath, staring at a court opinion on her desk that blurred before her. She’d assigned a special ringtone to her doctor so that her expectations wouldn’t rise and fall with each call. But the call she was waiting for was a roller coaster unto itself. She picked up the phone, closed her office door, and braced for the ride.
“Kendra Woods.”
“Miss Woods, this is Dr. Matthews’s office,” the woman said. “Are you available to speak with her?”
“Yes.” Her mouth was cottony. “I’m available.”
“One moment, please.”
Kendra walked to the window and looked down at the hustle and bustle of sidewalk travel, people moving inside of normal. She hoped to join them once again. Maybe she’d been wrong, paranoid even. She’d read so much online that when her gynecologist prescribed antibiotics to rule out infection as a cause of her bruise, Kendra pushed back.
“But what if it’s inflammatory breast cancer?” Kendra had said.
Dr. Matthews had touched her shoulder. “I don’t want to jump to the worst case. There’s no swelling or tenderness or pitted orange appearance, which often present with IBC. Let’s rule out the infection first, then do additional tests if needed.”
“I’m getting married in less than three weeks, Dr. Matthews. Please. I’d rather start the additional testing now.”
Kendra had had a mammogram, ultrasound, and biopsy two days later, and kept it all to herself as she waited for this call.
“Kendra?”
She sat in one of the guest chairs on the other side of her desk. “Hi, Dr. Matthews. You have my results?”
“My first thought was to have you come in, but I knew you’d want to know right away.”
She stared at the pattern in the carpet.
“Kendra, I’m so sorry. It’s inflammatory breast cancer.”
She continued staring.
“We need to schedule a CT scan and a bone scan to see if it’s spread. I’ve already checked with radiology, and they can see you this afternoon at three o’clock. From there, we’ll have a better sense of your treatment options. This is an aggressive disease that requires an aggressive plan . . .”
Kendra knocked on Derek’s office door and entered when he gave a shout. He faced the computer, typing furiously.
“Oh hey, babe,” he said over his shoulder.
“I forgot you have an administrative court deadline today,” she said. “We can talk later.”
He switched screens to check an online court opinion, then switched back to his document to finish a sentence. He glanced up briefly. “What’s the latest fire?”
Lately they’d been putting out several a day. “No fire this time.” Her stomach clenched. “Well. Not wedding related.”
He swiveled his chair toward her. “What’s going on? You don’t sound like yourself. Sit down.”
She did, closing the door first, trying to figure out how to have a conversation that didn’t seem real. Just say it.
“Sunday morning, before you picked me up, I saw this spot on my breast, like a bruise.” She clutched a notepad in her hands, not sure why she’d brought it. “I didn’t want to say anything because you know I can be a hypochondriac.”
“True. You and Google are dangerous. You’ll convert a single symptom into a rare disease within a few clicks of the—babe, what’s wrong?”
Kendra doubled over as the news hit, as if the doctor had just repeated it. Derek was at her side, rubbing her back. “What’s wrong?” he asked again.
“That’s what I have, a rare disease.” Hearing herself say it made her nauseated. She swallowed and focused on breathing.
“What are you talking about? What rare disease?”
“Inflammatory breast cancer.”
“I’ve never heard of that.”
“I hadn’t either.” She gathered herself. “I had some testing done, including a biopsy, and the doctor just called with the results.”
“What? When did you have tests? Why didn’t you tell me before now,” Derek said, “so I could be with you?”
“I wanted to hear that it was nothing, just an infection, and move on.”
“So what does this mean?” he asked. “What happens now?”
“I go for more tests this afternoon,” she said, “to see if it’s spread.”
“To see if it’s spread?” He stood and leaned against the desk. “I’m not understanding. Why would that be the next thought? Wouldn’t it have to be an advanced stage for that to happen? You’re not even sick.”
Her body twitched. “That’s the thing. I . . . I am sick. The nature of inflammatory breast cancer is that once it’s diagnosed, it’s already advanced. That’s why they scheduled further tests right away.”
Derek’s gaze moved into the distance, for an eternity it seemed. “What time is your appointment?” he said finally. “I’m going with you.”
“You’ve got a deadline today.” She never would have expected him to go, or even asked.
“I’ll work it out.” He took her hand and pulled her up. “I know it’s scary, but we’ll get through this. Together. I love you, babe.”
Derek pulled her closer, embracing her, and Kendra felt herself trembling. Over the last few days she’d researched every facet of this disease, imagined endless scenarios, and gone to bed with a million what-ifs. Until this moment she hadn’t realized how afraid she was, afraid of enduring this alone . . . the way she had moved through all the hard things of life alone.
But she needed to get used to a new way of thinking, a new way of operating. She had a man—a soon-to-be husband—who loved her. His words were like a balm—We’ll get through this. Together.
As scary as this was, knowing Derek would be with her today and every day ahead made all the difference.