When I Die [Wattys 2016]

Chapter 19: Relapse

After I told my mom about the bruise, she rushed me to the emergency room. They took us straight back and examined me. They poked me with needles, drawing out blood. I knew what they were going to say, and I didn't want to hear it. I turned on my side on the exam table, my entire frail form fit on the table, and I pulled my legs up towards my chest, wincing in pain. I was facing the wall because I didn't want to face her.

My mom sat in the room, in her chair. She was updating everyone as we went, shooting messages to Aaron who was only a few floors away, in the happiest moments of his life.

It's hard to describe what I felt. I felt like I already knew the end of the story without it being written. All the waiting was just a formality.

Dr. Ballard was on duty that night, and he came in the room to tell me we would need to do some scans.

They brought a stretcher in, and wheeled me away to the room I'd gotten to know so well. They said the same thing they always said,

"Lay perfectly still."

I did. It was difficult at first, but now it was easy. I laid perfectly perfectly still.

We were finally admitted to a room sometime around four am. It was a bigger room than the room I had been in before. I wondered if that meant something, if they knew something we didn't know yet.

Dr. Ballard had sent in a nurse to tell us that he was going to talk to us about things in the morning, that we should just try to get some rest.

Rest. Ha! Neither my mom or I could sleep. I fidgeted in my bed all night, rubbing my fingertips over the texture of the cover, rolling back and forth, eventually laying on my back and staring at the ceiling. My mom just stared blankly. She was so tired. I saw the old her coming back, the one that was here in the hospital with me last time, the one who was constantly scared and tired.

That morning around ten am, Dr. Ballard finally came in to talk to us. He looked just as tired as we did. He held a clipboard in his hands.

The news was bad. Like, really, really bad.

"Leo, you know I didn't want to have this moment with you. I really hoped that the surgery would have ended this for you... unfortunately, that isn't the case. Your cancer is in your blood, and you have about a fourth of your blood missing right now. You're severely anemic."

My mom's contorted expression would kill me before the cancer did, for sure.

"We're not sure... where to go from here. To be frank, the chemotherapy isn't working very well anymore. Your cancer has become resistant to it. The only other viable option we have right now is a stem cell transplant, and that's only if we can find a suitable donor... very soon."

My mom perked up then, just a bit,

"I'll do it, of course," she said.

Dr. Ballard smiled gently.

"Mrs. Hendricks, we'll need to make sure you're a match... there's not a very high chance that you are..."

She looked defeated. She sat back again, closing her eyes tightly.

"But, the good news is, you have several siblings... we can test them to see if they're matches," he said.

My mom looked at me then.

I took a deep breath. "What are my chances of surviving this without a donor?"

He shook his head slowly, "Sorry, Leo, the... only real chance of survival at this point is finding a perfectly matching donor."