Izzy & Noah

Thirty-Five: When I Can't

My eyes fill with tears.

I wish I could be anywhere but here, somewhere hidden away from the world, where I could escape into my problems. But I can't hide forever. For once, I have to face the truth.

"I'm sorry," I mutter, as I quickly pocket my phone. 

The doctor and Suzy look at me, both of them aware, but probably unsure of what's going on.

The phone rings again. 

I can't answer it - I'm at work.

"Is everything okay?" Suzy asks, her voice filled with concern.

I try not to let the bad news show. 

I'm a good actress.

"Nothing serious, I'm just a little embarrassed. I apologize again for the noise," I say, laughing lightly, though it feels hollow.

"But you looked like you saw a ghost," she adds, eyes narrowing as if she knows there's more to the story but doesn't want to pry.

I wave her off. "It's nothing to worry about," I insist, forcing a smile.

But inside, I'm dying.

I feel the heat rising, so I open the window just a crack to catch some air.

Breathe, Izzy. Just breathe.

Suzy heads off for brunch, leaving me alone for the moment. 

If there's no emergency, I can have this space to myself.

I sit in the chair by the window and close my eyes. 

How am I going to handle all of this? 

My heart aches, like someone's tightening their grip on my lungs, making it hard to breathe.

Stay strong. You can do this.

I let the cool air calm me, but even so, my thoughts are spinning.

My phone buzzes, and it's a message from Katy.

"Sorry I disappeared for a while. Tom said I should be careful about what I tell you, but with everything happening, I couldn't keep it in anymore," she writes.

I respond quickly, trying to reassure her, even though my own emotions are all over the place. "I'm fine. I'm a big girl. I can handle the truth."

Who am I kidding? I'm not fine. I need help. I can't keep pretending I've got everything together. All the things I've been carrying for so long, I don't know how much longer I can hide how broken I am.

And then it hits me. I can't keep going like this. I need help.

I need to let my soul cry out, to release all the pain, and then I can begin to put myself back together again. But am I going to like this new version of me? I don't know.

I look around, relieved to find the workroom empty. I quickly pull up the psychologist's number and make the call.

It rings once, twice... then a familiar voice answers.

"Hello, is this the psychologist?" I ask, the words nearly caught in my throat. I feel embarrassed, unsure of how to even start this conversation.

"Yes, this is she," the voice responds warmly.

"This is Izzy from Palliative Care. We've met a few times, I think, on ward rounds... I'm sorry, I'm not sure if I'm doing this right. I'm having some issues, for myself. Not a patient. A colleague, Anna, and a few others suggested I see someone, given everything I'm going through..."

It's so hard to admit this out loud. I wish I could disappear.

"Well, Izzy, I can tell from your voice that you're feeling really overwhelmed. Would you like me to book you in for an appointment?" she asks gently.

I nod even though she can't see me. "Yes, please. That would be good."

She suggests a time next week, and my heart races. I was expecting to wait months, not get in so quickly.

"Wednesday at 3 p.m.," I repeat like an echo, barely believing it.

"That works. I'll see you then, Izzy," she confirms before ending the call.

What have I gotten myself into? I feel sick to my stomach, like I'm about to throw up. Why am I doing this? Am I crazy?

I bite my lip nervously as Suzy enters the room.

"The stuff from the pharmacy is here. You can put it in the cupboard," she says.

I nod, eager to keep busy so I don't have to face her, and quickly head to the infusion room where Anna is already organizing supplies.

"I came to help," I say with a light laugh, trying to mask how off-kilter I feel.

"I'm almost done, but thanks anyway," Anna replies.

"I was a bit out of it, you know?" I say, hoping she'll understand.

"Suzy's a nice person," Anna remarks sarcastically.

And we both laugh, the sound briefly lightening the tension in the room.

Before I know it, the shift is over. I hand over to Maria and leave for home. But inside, I feel empty. Like all my emotions have been drained away.

What will tomorrow bring? How will I face this therapy when I don't even believe in it? Will I really be able to put words to everything I've been carrying for years?

I leave the building and step into the cold winter air, my coat tight around me, my hands shoved in my pockets.

Across the street, I see the neurology clinic. Noah is in there, in the operating room.

My stomach tightens.

I pull out my phone and dial Katy's number.

It rings once, twice, before she answers.

"Hey, Katy, hope I'm not disturbing you," I say.

"No, not at all. Just tidying up and cooking, you know how it is," she replies. I want to say I know, but the words are stuck in my throat.

"You're probably calling about Noah, right?" she guesses.

I'm not sure what to say.

"Yes, how is he? Are they still operating?" I ask, barely able to breathe.

I want to believe that everything will be okay, but the fear still gnaws at me as I stand there, staring at the clinic across the street.

"Tom said everything seems to be okay so far. He woke up from the anesthetic fine, recognized Tom, answered a few questions, and they removed enough of the tumor to relieve the pressure. But there's still a lot left. It's only a matter of time before it gets worse, but... let's say he's bought some time," Katy says.

I feel my heart race.

Noah remembered me. He asked for me.

"Thanks for letting me know. I'd like to visit, but I know family is only allowed in intensive care. I'm guessing they'll let me in if he's moved to a regular ward?"

"That's right. If everything checks out and there's no bleeding, they'll move him. He asked for you today. Tom said he'd be happy to see you," Katy adds, her voice steady, but I hear the hope behind her words.

I close my eyes, my heart beating faster. He remembered me.

"Thanks for everything, Katy. Maybe I'll stop by for a coffee later," I say.

"You're welcome, Izzy. Take care of yourself," she replies before hanging up.

I slowly walk home, the cold air biting at my skin. I wrap myself tighter in my coat, trying to block out the chill.

I've been in December too long, it echoes in my mind.

Another year is almost here, but right now, it feels so far away. And so is Noah. What will I do when he's gone? How will I go on without him?

If there's no Noah, then who am I?