Three Weeks

The kitchen was dark as she entered, saved from complete, blanketing blackness only by the soft green light of the microwave’s clock. She dropped her keys on the granite countertop, and pressed her forehead to the stainless steel refrigerator door. She started as his voice cut through the dark.

“It’s 3 a.m.”

She didn’t know how long she’d been leaning on the door. He didn’t sound sleepy. She wondered how long he’d been sitting there in the dark, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask. She hesitated. He reached out impatiently and flipped the switch, turning on the light over the kitchen table. She blinked.

“I know. I need to get to bed.”

She hoped he’d leave things alone for tonight, but they had come too far for that.

“What’s going on? I need to know what’s happening here.”

There was a pleading in his voice, desperation. She stared at the floor, his deep sigh tightening the emotional band around her chest. Was it suddenly harder to breathe? She looked up, not meeting his eyes.

“I don’t know. Can we do this tomorrow?”

He just looked at her. She realized he had lost weight; his cheekbones were sharp against his skin, the dark stubble on his jaw a startling contrast to the paleness of his skin. There were shadows beneath his eyes, shadows she didn’t remember seeing before. She hesitated, and then walked slowly toward the hallway door. She put a hand on the doorframe and looked back at him. She ought to say something, she thought. But what? She shook her head, and moved down the hall to the spare room. She heard him sigh again.

~*~

The sunlight sparkled and danced across her desk, but she barely noticed it. It was almost time to go home, yet she didn’t remember driving to work that morning, doing work that day, speaking with colleagues. She heard a dull roar, felt a rushing sensation, and realized she was going to faint. Quickly, she spun her chair to the side and put her head between her knees. As the rushing slowly receded, she watched a pair of polished, pointy, black and white stiletto heels walk toward her.

“Are you okay, Chrissy?”

Chrissy slowly sat up and leaned back in her chair. She stared at her hands for a moment, and then waved the right one in the air.

“Oh, I think I just let my blood sugar get too low. I’ll be fine. Thanks for checking on me.”

The dismissal was subtle but Joyce wasn’t having any of it.

“I don’t mean the fact that I found you with your head between your knees, although that is a concern. I mean, are you all right?”

Chrissy sighed. Her behavior had been erratic, she knew. An easy-going, happy person, she was usually the first one of her colleagues to suggest dinner after work or to host a company picnic at her house. But that was before. She suddenly couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d suggested an outing with the girls from work. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back on to the prickly chair back. This chair had always been uncomfortable, now more than ever.

“No. I’m not all right. But I’m not ready to discuss things. Please, please understand. I can’t talk about this right now.”

Joyce’s beautifully made up face, always perfect, always line-free, crumpled into a frown. She hesitated. Finally, after a long pause, her face smoothed back into its usual flawlessness.

“All right. But I think you need to talk to someone. Whatever is on your mind, I think you need to deal with it. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks. You never smile, you never laugh, and you never go out. We’re all very worried about you.”

Chrissy nodded. She sat up and straightened her skirt over her slim thighs. Her hands were shaking, so she clasped them together and held them tight. She looked up at Joyce.

“I know. “

She started to say more, but stopped. What else could she say? What did she want to say? Chrissy simply wasn’t ready to open up yet. Processing these unexpected changes in her life was overwhelming. Working through each emotion as it struck was exhausting. She simply didn’t have the energy to worry about others right now. Selfish, perhaps, but true.

Joyce waited, and then realized that Chrissy was done. She nodded once, a small, sharp movement. Joyce opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again.

“Please, Chrissy, take care of yourself.”

She turned and walked out the door without another backwards look. The sigh felt as though it came all the way from the soles of Chrissy’s feet. As her shoulders sagged forward, she looked at the clock and realized it was time to go home. Damn. She stood wearily and gathered her things. The navy wool coat was warm and heavy. It looked beautiful next to her warm, blond hair and blue eyes. She snorted to herself. “I bet the blue brings out the shadows beneath my eyes, too.” She wrapped the cream, cashmere scarf around her neck; last year’s birthday present from Steve. It was soft, much like the fur of a kitten, and felt so good against her check. She rubbed her cheek gently against the scarf, and remembered how thoughtful it was of Steve to choose this for her, protecting her sensitive skin from the scratchy wool of her coat. Her eyes began to tear up and she thought about Steve, her marriage, and what was to come in the next few weeks. She pressed the scarf to her eyes for a moment, and then gathered her purse, keys, cell phone, and sunglasses. Her desk was tidy, her files put away, and her PC powered down. She straightened her shoulders and strode toward the door. As she turned to shut off the light, her gaze swept the small but cozy office. She sighed, and headed for the elevator to the parking garage.

~*~


For once she arrived at home first. Steve was usually there before her because his schedule as an independent electrical contractor meant he began and ended his days earlier than most. Perhaps he’s avoiding me, she thought. Maybe he’s finally given up. The realization settled heavily into the pit of her stomach.

She hung her coat on the coat rack, and dropped her purse on the floor next to her shoes. She walked slowly toward the spare room that she had begun to call her own. Chrissy didn’t fully understand it, but she couldn’t bear sleeping next to Steve lately. It hurt him; she could see the confusion in his eyes, but she couldn’t explain. The words simply wouldn’t come.

She carefully slipped out of her suit and hung it up. The sound of her own laughter startled her. Perhaps it was kind of funny to be so cautious with her suit, yet so incautious with her marriage. The suit of course, didn’t try to talk to her or ask her questions she wasn’t ready to answer. She chose her favorite flannel pajama pants from a drawer in the bureau, and a t-shirt from the pile in the laundry basket on the floor. Chrissy padded barefoot back to the kitchen and stared blindly around the room. A flash of red caught her eye; it was the answering machine light, notifying her of a message. She suddenly felt cold and there were goose bumps on her arms. No, she thought. I told them never to call here.

She pressed the play button on the machine, and was relieved to hear Steve’s voice.

“Chrissy, it’s me. I’m going to be late tonight. I’ll probably be home by 8 p.m. or so. Just wanted to let you know. I . . . well, that’s it, I guess. Bye.”

Chrissy realized she wasn’t hungry or thirsty. She turned around and headed for the living room. As she curled up in her favorite reading chair, its soft green microfiber welcoming and comfortable, she realized she couldn’t put it off any longer. The soft, cranberry colored blanket settled warmly around her shoulders and lap, and she let her head rest on the back of the chair. Her eyelashes fluttered lightly on her cheeks as she allowed her eyes to close and her mind to remember.
~*~

She squinted against the bright lights of the room and considered putting her sunglasses back on. She thought that Sue might think it odd, but then again, Chrissy thought, she can’t be the only one to think the lights were too bright. Chrissy looked up as Sue tapped lightly on the door and bounced into the room on her comfy nurse’s shoes, a cheerful smile on her face.

“Chrissy! Nice to see you. You’re not due for a check up, so what brings you here on this fine fall day?”

Chrissy smiled back. No one could resist Sue; her charm and warmth were so sincere, and she really gave you her full attention.

“Hi Sue! I’ve been feeling a bit run down, had some trouble sleeping, and thought I’d have Dr. Zonis check me out, maybe suggest some vitamins or something. My joints have been a bit achy, too. Nothing major, I’m just feeling a bit out of sorts, you know?”

Sue chuckled.

“Yes, I do know. Let me gather the basics and your vitals, and then Dr. Zonis will be in shortly.”

Sue walked through the medical history and had Chrissy sign the form saying nothing had changed. When Sue asked her if she could be pregnant, Chrissy started. Her eyes widened as she thought about it.

“Well, I guess it’s possible. We use condoms, but we don’t use anything else, so I guess it’s a possibility. My periods have never been regular, so I wouldn’t notice if I was late.”

Chrissy turned the possibility over in her mind. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. She and Steve had talked about having children, but they hadn’t made it to the planning stages yet. Then again, she wondered if you could really plan children. Chrissy realized Sue was speaking to her.

“Chrissy? Did I lose you?” Sue smiled her eye-crinkling smile. “Didn’t think about that one, did you?”

“No, I really hadn’t! I’m a little overwhelmed at the idea, I have to admit.” Chrissy smiled a cautious smile. “But, I think, maybe, I’d be okay with it.”

Sue’s laugh was hearty and full-bellied, the way laughs should be, in Chrissy’s opinion. The kind of laugh that wrapped you up like a blanket, or a hug, and included you.

“Well, I’ll make a note to Dr. Novis that he might want to consider a blood test.”
As Sue moved closer to check Chrissy’s vital signs, Chrissy rolled up her sleeve. Sue frowned at Chrissy’s arm as she wrapped the blood-pressure cuff around her bicep.

“Chrissy, how long have these bruises been here? Do you get them often?” Sue gently poked at each of the five bruises that spotted Chrissy’s forearm.

Chrissy glanced down at her arm.

“I don’t know. They don’t really hurt, and it’s cold, so my arms are covered most of the time. I guess I had noticed that I had more bruises than usual, but I didn’t think about it much. Maybe a month or so?”

Sue made a note on the chart, then put the earpieces to her stethoscope in place and began pumping up the cuff. She noted the results in the chart.

“Blood pressure is in the normal range!” she chirped.

Chrissy thought that something seemed to have changed in Sue’s demeanor, but shrugged it off. She’s just moved into serious nursing mode, Chrissy concluded. She swept her hair behind her ear to give Sue’s thermometer access, and then Sue was done.

“Well, that’s the end of the part of the program! I’ll let Dr. Novis know you’re ready for him. You have a great afternoon, Chrissy!”

“Thanks, Sue.”

~*~

Dr. Novis was an odd-looking man. He was very tall, over 6’3”, Chrissy thought. He had the salt and pepper hair that so many older men do, and it was slightly overlong and shaggy. His socks didn’t match and his shoes were dusty. But Dr. Novis had a skill for developing a rapport with patients, and they all loved him. His dark brown eyes sparkled, his thick, dark eyebrows wiggled, and he tended to stroke his mustache while you spoke, suggesting careful concentration on your every word.

“Good afternoon, Chrissy! Getting cold out there, isn’t it?” Without waiting for a response, he continued. “I see you’re feeling a bit tired, a bit achy, and having some trouble sleeping. Does that about sum it up?”

Chrissy smiled. This bear of a man was so endearing, and exuded confidence.

“Yes, that’s exactly right. I don’t feel sick, just not quite right. One thing I forgot to mention to Sue was that I’ve also had some intermittent abdominal pain. Nothing a couple of Advil didn’t take care of, but I really haven’t been doing anything that should have made those muscles sore.”

Dr. Novis stroked his mustache with one hand, while the other propped his elbow. He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling consideringly. He hummed deep in his through for a moment, and then turned back to Chrissy, dropping his hands to his knees.

“Well, I think our next best step is some bloodwork. We can test your blood for a whole bunch of different things, and figure this out real quick. Your symptoms fit a host of conditions, from a low iron level to pregnancy to an infection to something potentially more serious. Not that I think you have anything serious! But it would be a good idea to rule some things out. And if you are pregnant, we’ll want to get you started on prenatal vitamins right away, and figure out your due date.

“I’ll have the technician come in and draw your blood right here; we still do things the old-fashioned way. None of that going to a separate lab to have them draw your blood. Hmph!”

She couldn’t help but smile at how disgruntled Dr. Novis sounded at the idea of making patients travel to a lab for simple blood drawing. But something had caught her attention, and she had some questions.

“Dr. Novis, when you say it could be something more serious, what did you mean? Are you thinking cancer?”

She sounded slightly panicked, and he smiled reassuringly at her.

“Chrissy, I see a lot of patients with symptoms like yours, and most of the time there’s a simple cause and a simple solution. So please don’t panic! But yes, your symptoms could suggest a few different kinds of cancer, and we want to rule that out, quickly. Then we can focus on the real problem—or the pregnancy—and help you get back to your old self.”

He sounded so confident and self-assured. Cancer. The word alone was terrifying to Chrissy.

“What kinds of cancer?” she asked.

Dr. Novis frowned slightly, and then nodded.

“Well, there are a few, but based on the abdominal pain, I think we’d want to rule out pancreatic, ovarian, uterine, and rectal cancers. The blood tests will help point us in a direction, and I’d like to schedule you for an ultrasound as well, just to be sure.”

Chrissy suddenly felt chilled, even in the warm exam room. She nodded at Dr. Novis, and he made a few more check marks on the form on his clipboard. He scrawled his signature on the bottom, and handed the form to Chrissy.

“Talk to the receptionist after the technician draws your blood. Give her the form and she’ll schedule your ultrasound, too. Try not to worry, Chrissy. These conditions are frightening, but they’re also not as common a low iron level or pregnancy. Stay positive!”

He gave my hand a quick shake, smiled his genial smile, and then he was out the door and off to his next patient. As the door softly whooshed shut behind him, Chrissy stared at the floor without seeing the green and cream checkerboard pattern, lost in thought. Cancer. It was a big scary word and Chrissy couldn’t seem to let go of it. She didn’t know much about cancer and hadn’t lost anyone close to her to the disease. She donated money to charities and put the ribbon stickers on her car, but she’d never really thought about what cancer meant to an individual, to a family. To her ability to have a family. The rap on the door brought her out of her reverie.

“Come in!” she called out.

The lab technician hurried into the room, her cart full of glass tubes with different colored tops, alcohol swabs, band aids, and non-latex gloves.

“Good afternoon!” The technician was cheery and efficient. “I’ll need to draw a couple tubes of blood in order to have what the lab needs to complete your tests. I’m going to raise the head of the bed to an upright position, and then I want you to lean back and relax. This will only take a few minutes.”

Chrissy leaned back when the bed was ready, and tried to clear her mind. She barely felt the technician wrap the band around her arm, the coolness of the alcohol swab stroked against the fold of skin at the elbow, the quick prick of the needle, the removal of the band. She glanced down once, and then quickly looked away as her warm, think blood began to fill the first vial. The technician filled several tubes, some purple, and some other colors. Chrissy wondered what the colors meant.

“What do the colors mean?”

The technician glanced up. She was just finishing up the last tube. As she pulled the needle from Chrissy’s arm and held a small piece of gauze to the wound, she answered.

“Well, the blood needs to be prepared different ways for different tests. We’ll test your blood for iron, we’ll test it for white blood cells, and we’ll test it for a bunch of other stuff.”

“Oh. Thanks.” The answer didn’t satisfy Chrissy, but she had a feeling the technician wasn’t allowed to tell her much. The technician finished labeling the vials, made sure the band aid she had applied to Chrissy’s arm was well adhered, and then she smiled.

“Well, that’s it! We’re all done here. You did great. Have a nice afternoon! Try to stay warm.” And then she was out the door, pushing her cart in front of her. Chrissy waited for the door to swing shut, and then slowly began to get dressed. Her limbs suddenly felt awkward and heavy, and it took three tries to get her right leg into her pants. Without warning, she began to cry. She sat back down on the table and wrapped her arms around herself, crying softly.  The warm tears fell off her cheeks and onto her arms in soft, wet plops. Chrissy allowed herself a couple minutes of self pity, and then shook her head. She grabbed a few tissues from the box beside the exam room sink and cleaned up her face. She blew her nose and threw her tissues in the trash can. She washed her hands slowly in the sink, scrubbing the backs, the palms, and between each finger. She dried her hands the same way, and through the wet paper towel in the trash. Chrissy patted her hair, pulled on her coat, and headed down the hall with her form clutched in her hand.

~*~

Chrissy opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling of the living room. It was white, as most ceilings were. She noticed a few cobwebs in one corner. The light fixture really needed to be dusted as well. Chrissy smiled harshly to herself. Like such things mattered at this point. Dust had stopped mattering after that very first doctor’s visit, she realized. I guess I knew even then, she thought. I knew the blood test wasn’t going to show a problem with my iron. Or that I was pregnant. People will say I couldn’t have known, but I did, I just did. Chrissy sighed. She thought about the phone call, asking her to come back into the clinic for a review of her results. She remembered Sue ushering her quietly into Dr. Novis’ office, not an exam room. She remembered Sue sitting beside her as Dr. Novis delivered the news, the treatments options, and the survival rates. She wondered why she hadn’t asked Steve to go with her. Chrissy hadn’t even told him she had an appointment.

“How was your appointment with Dr. Novis?” Steve had asked.

Chrissy had stared hard at her dinner. Her hands clenched together in her lap. She looked up at him and forced a smile.

“Oh, fine. Blood pressure is good; weight is down a little—like I mind that! They took some blood to test for iron levels and stuff. I should hear back in a few days, I think.”

Steve smiled. “Well that sounds easy enough. How was your day otherwise?”

And with that the conversation had moved on to other things. Was it really only three weeks ago? Had she really gotten the news the very next day, the day after that first appointment? It seems like a lifetime ago, and it seems like yesterday she thought. Energy suddenly surged through her, and she jumped up. She spun around, searching for a way to focus this energy. Outside, she thought. I need to be outside. She turned and ran for the front door. Flinging it open, she dashed down the front stairs and across the snow-covered lawn. They’d gotten an early snow this year, it was only November, but she felt nothing on her bare feet. The street was quiet in their neighborhood, even though it was only 6:30 p.m. She stood in the middle of the street, vibrating with energy. Chrissy needed to run. She turned to the right and began to run down the middle of the street, bare feet splashing through the slush and mud, small stones creating wounds on her tender feet. She began to cry as she ran, sobbing and gasping, running down that cold, asphalt street. Chrissy saw the car’s headlights coming toward her, but she didn’t care and she didn’t stop. Her foot caught on the edge of a pothole, and her ankle twisted, sending her down to the pavement, palms forward. Her hands slid across the gravel and asphalt, her knees landed hard, and then she fell to her stomach, still sobbing and gasping. She slowly pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, lying in the street. The slush seeped through her thin cotton shirt and her pajama bottoms, and her teeth began to chatter with cold.

She hadn’t noticed that the car had stopped in the middle of the street, hadn’t noticed that the driver had gotten out, dashed over, crouched beside her. She noticed nothing but the sound of her own cries until she heard his voice.

“Chrissy? My god, Chrissy! What happened? What are you doing? Are you okay?” Steve’s anxious face peered down at her, pale in the car’s headlights. He was kneeling in the slush, his hands flitting around as though he wanted to touch her, but didn’t know where or how.

“Your pants are getting wet,” she said dully, her breath slowing.

He stared at her, his eyes widening and his mouth slightly open.

“What?!”  He closed his mouth, and then opened it again. “I’m not worried about my damn pants! We need to get you inside. I’m going to pick you up now.”

He slid his arms free of his jacket and wrapped it around her, and then gently picked her up, cradling her against his warm, strong chest. She laid her head against his heart, and listened to its aggressive thump-THUMP pattern. She felt his lungs fill and empty, fill and empty. His scent enveloped her, familiar and comfortable. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and turned to walk toward the car.  But that kiss—that kiss undid her. Chrissy began to shriek and wail, startling Steve. She kicked her legs until he set her down, not letting go of her, but letting her stand.

“It’s not fair!” She was screaming now, her closed fists beating on his chest. “It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair!”

The sobs came again, giant sobs that wracked her body and hurt her head. Sobs that sounded like something deep inside her was breaking, shattering like a crystal glass thrown to the floor. Steve stared at her, clutching her shoulders. He threw his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. She struggled against him for a moment, but he wouldn’t let go and she slowly sagged against him.

“It’s not fair” she whispered.

“What’s not fair? Chrissy, what’s going on? Please,” he begged now, “please tell me what has happened!”

“I’m dying. That’s what happened. I’m dying.”

For a full minute, Steve didn’t move. Then he slowly pulled back enough that he could look into her face. He stared into her eyes, stroked a hand down her wet hair.

“Are you sure?”

Chrissy sighed and it was a sigh of relief, of release. All of the fear, the anger, the pain, all of the emotion had just poured out of her, and she suddenly felt limp.

“I have an official diagnosis. There are treatments. I have cancer, and the survival rates are low.”

Steve pulled her back against him, his lips against her hair.  He laid his cheek to her hair as he began to speak again.

“But it’s not terminal?”

She smiled slightly. Trust Steve to find the tiniest bit of positive in the whole thing.

“No, it’s not officially terminal.” She pulled back and looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

Steve looked confused.

“Sorry for what? Never mind. We need to get you inside and dried off. Then we can talk about what you want to do, and how I can help you do it.” He spoke firmly, not a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “We’ll do this together, you and me.”