For Every Missing Shade

Entry 37

"She swore she was fine during the day," I said.

"What do you think happened?" he asked.

"She has stage four pancreatic cancer. Doctors gave her about two months to live and we're nearing month one."

He let out a deep breath and leaned back in his seat. "Well I don't want to pry, but she's safe now. These doctors are good, I swear. It's a small town, but they're known for this stuff. They treat basically everyone who gets messed up at the Grand Canyon."

"I'm going to be honest, that doesn't make me feel a ton better," I responded. I felt bad, the guy did all that he could to help her, but I wasn't in the mood to talk.

"Yeah, sorry," he said.

"You know, you don't have to stay. I'm sure you should probably go back to the park and make sure people aren't breaking in."

"Don't worry, I called another guy to take over for me. We work in small shifts at this time of night so that we don't fall asleep at our desks."

"I just want to be alone right now," I said, getting annoyed that he seemed to not get the hint.

"That's okay, I get it. But you might change your mind later and only see strangers. I'll tell you what. I'm going to sit over on the other side of the waiting room. I'll turn my back, put on headphones, and tune you out entirely. If you ever feel like you need someone, I'll be here. If not, you won't have wasted any of my time or yours."

It was 3:00 in the morning. The pale light of the waiting room contrasted the stark black of the desert outside. It was a bleak picture. One I only expected to see in a painting.

Today hurt. It was only three in the morning and I already had too much. I was tired and broken. My girlfriend was somewhere in this hospital getting treated for something I didn't know or understand.

Even in the same building, our lives were starkly different and I couldn't change that.

I was supposed to take care of her. I felt so helpless in that moment. She was dying in my car, begging me to make it stop and I couldn't.

"Israel Taylor," a woman in scrubs called from the entrance to the OR.

I looked her way and then in the direction of the park ranger. He tipped his cap to me and left through the doors.

I walked her way. My legs felt hollow when I stood on them and my feet were trying to move faster than I was letting them. I got the feeling I might throw up, but I kept it as calm as my ghost-white face would let me.

She led me through numerous hallways until we came across Emma's room. She was still laying in bed. Obviously exhausted, but awake.

Awake and, more importantly, alive.

I sat down next to her bed and she turned her head towards me. I found her hand and kissed it as she smiled at me. Her face was wet with sweat and her skin was just now starting to regain its color.

"Do I look pretty?" she asked jokingly.

"Beautiful," I said, the tears welling up in my eyes.

"We've got to stop ending our dates in places like this," she said.

I laughed. "How is everything?"

"I'm basically good as new, they fixed me up."

"What happened?"

"Apparently cancer made a beeline for my lungs and gave it all it had. The tumors started secreting liquid into the space between my chest cavity and lung and that made it really hard to breathe. They think it started before we got to Colorado and the activity and altitude made it a lot worse.

"I'm just so happy you're still here," I choked out. "I thought that was going to be the end."

"It's never the end with us," she said with a smile. "Once I get to heaven, we'll just have to be long-distance."

I laughed and leaned back in my chair.

"You know," she continued, "this kinda means that the trip is over. Only halfway through isn't the best way I could have imagined it, but the list is pretty close to checked off. Either way, this was a pretty kick ass ten days and three hours."

I finally let myself calm down. She was okay, the trip was over, and I got to think something that I never thought I'd be happy about: we were going home.

Emma and I spent one more day in the hospital before she had permission to go back to St. Louis.

Much to my surprise, I had school to go to once I got back. It felt weird to even think about doing something that wasn't revolving around her. She was my entire life and I was afraid of what would remain once she leaves.

But I didn't let her know what I was thinking just as she didn't let me know that she was thinking the same thing. Instead, we played cards as we passed time between tests that only told us news we already knew: we're nearing the end, but it's not here yet.