Accolade

trente deux

I lost count of the days. 

I asked River what day it was every time I was awake and sometimes his answer was the same. I felt like I was becoming delusional. The drugs being administered directly into my veins were making my memory fuzzy but it erased the physical pain. There was nothing that could erase the pain etched into my very soul because I truly felt myself slipping. From who I was. From the world. 

From existence. 

On this particular day, I had just managed to eat some applesauce with some help from Auden, when there was a knock on the door. A second later, Dr. Welch opened it. My hand immediately fell when I saw him. This meant that he was going to tell me the bad news. 

News I had refused to let any of my brothers deliver. 

I had wanted to pretend for just a moment longer. 

River remained seated in the chair by the window but he turned his attention from the city to the doctor.  A man in a white lab coat and a clipboard that came closer to me like a lingering angel that had failed his job and his last assignment was to ease the pain.

It was ironic that doctors wore white if you asked me. 

Warren did not move from the windowsill where he was half leaning and half sitting, one foot hooked behind the ankle of the other. His arms were crossed and his eyes narrowed on the doctor. 

"How are you feeling?" Dr. Welch asked, eyes flickering to Auden as he moved to a seat. 

I sighed. "Let's not waste our time. Tell me what it is you've come to tell me."

"Aida," Dr. Welch slowly began, his voice quiet in remorse as his eyes already told me what his next words would be. "The cancer has metastasized into your spinal cord. We found evidence of it within your lungs and I fear it will move into your brain very soon." 

"What happens then?" I asked, quietly. My voice was foreign, devoid of all emotion. 

He paused, lips drawing into a thin line. There was something akin to pity that flickered in those wise eyes---eyes that had seen a thousand deaths but also a thousand miracles, all of which could never be predicted but only prevented by the power of medicine. My case was not one he could prevent, and he finally answered, "It is fatal." 

I closed my eyes. Fatal. 

"There's absolutely nothing else we can do? You haven't found anything since the last time we spoke?" Auden asked, his voice quiet. Ever since we were kids, I had always known him to bring good energy into a room. He was always a ray of sunshine and he infected other people with his smile. But today? He was solemn. 

"Her body is weak," Dr. Welch said, "I'm hesitant to put any more stress on her body because it could accelerate the situation. At this point, CT scans are causing more damage with the radiation dosage than it's helping her." 

"What about chemo? You said it could help." 

"I've reviewed her progress and charts. There is a minimal chance that another round of chemo could work but there's a bigger chance that it won't," Dr. Welch explained and he turned his attention back to me, "However, I would be willing to take the chance if you are. The cancer may continue to metastasize, however, the chemo could slow it down before it reaches your brain."  

"Do you think it will work?" I asked, my gaze heavy as I gleaned a lie from him. I heard what he wasn't saying. The chemo wasn't going to work, he was merely offering out of comfort. To help ease the pain in my heart because the truth was... my end was inevitable now.