When I Die [Wattys 2016]

Chapter 12: Pre-Op

                  

The next day, I wasn't allowed to eat a lot, which wasn't really a big deal for me lately. It was sad, because I usually loved to eat. Ever since I was little, I could down an entire meal and then ask for seconds and thirds. My mom said my brothers and I would "eat her out of house and home" one day. She joked she would have to start a second job just to feed us all when she wasn't sure if Hattie was a boy or a girl. My absolute favorite food was sushi. I loved sushi, mostly because you could always try something different each time you ordered. There was a sushi restaurant called Hiayo's right down the street from my house. I worked there two summers in a row because I knew the owner so well from ordering. I'd usually get miso soup, steamed rice, eel sauce, of course, white sauce, and a crunchy roll. There was a roll there called the Wammy Roll which was rice, seaweed, crab, avocado, eel sauce, fried egg, and some sort of sauce they made which they called Wammy Sauce. I didn't know what was in Wammy sauce, but I loved it.
When I first got sick and didn't feel like eating, my mom had, in desperation, asked me "not even Hiayo's???" The answer had been no. Since I'd been sick, every time I ate it landed in my stomach like a rock and took me hours to not feel like it was going to come back up. The one time I did let her buy me Hiayo's, it stayed in place for approximately 20 minutes before my mom was holding a puke-pan out under my mouth. Wammy Sauce burned when it came up into my nose. Now even the thought of my favorite food made me cringe. Great.

Never, never, ever again.

On top of that, thanks to the chemo, everything tasted awful. I felt hunger pains all day but willed myself not to worry about it. I ate ice chips to keep my mouth wet and waited on my mom to call.

I took three naps that day, one about an hour after waking up in the morning, one around noon, and one around five. Sleeping now occupied most of my time and it took a lot of effort to stay awake. They wanted to "flush" me out in order to do the surgery on my stomach. The next few days were not looking like fun.

My mom called that afternoon, in between naps.

"Hey, mom."

"Leo, hey, I'm so sorry sweetie... we're all sick."

She sounded sick, her voice sounded weak and tired. She coughed. My mind, though, because it was screwed up, immediately imagined them all, sitting on the couch, watching TV, muting it just so she could talk to me. Telling everyone to shh! Don't let Leo hear you having fun!
"Okay," I would play along.
"Sam's been home... he's coughing up a lung and running a fever, and your father just went to pick up Hattie from school, her teacher says she's been complaining today."
I looked at my hands, white and thin, bruised up from the IVs and shots, and blood drawings.
I was trying to absorb what she was saying. I looked at the calendar on the wall where Angela, my nurse, crossed off the days. She had circled around the day of my surgery, which was in exactly three days.
"How long do colds take to run course?" I asked.
"What?"
"How long will it take you all to get better?" I repeated.
"Um, well I don't know, sweetie. We will be up there as soon as we can, though, I promise." She paused, then gasped. There was commotion on the other end of the line.
"Leo, sweetie, I need to go help your brother... I will call you tonight. Love you baby."

She hung up before I could reply. I huffed, laying back in my pillows again. My stomach growled, and I rubbed it, realizing that this would be a very long three days.

That evening, Angela came in and gave me my morning medicine. She was wearing bright pink scrubs with flowers on the front. She looked cheerful, which was a strange juxtaposition for me, because I was unhappy and I felt miserable.

"Hey there Leo. How are we today?"

My eyes fell closed and it took me a second to re-open them.
"I don't know. Have you heard from my mom?"
Angela shook her head. She pushed the needle into the vial of medicine and pulled back on the end, sucking up medicine into the needle.
"Sorry, sweetie. I haven't heard from her. Do you need something?" She asked, taking the needle and stepping closer towards me, she stuck the needle in my IV in my arm. She pressed it in quickly. The medicine had to be refrigerated, and so every time she administered it, it made me cold. I began shivering immediately and uncontrollably.