It's still not quite the way I want it, but it's a lot better than it was two days ago. I hope it was worth the wait. I did my best. Let me know what you think of it.
Thank you guys again for the immense support you've shown me. People commented in response to what I said yesterday that I'd never known had been reading. You guys never fail to surprise me in the best ways.
I hope you're prepared for this chapter. Because this is the big 1 7. You're not ready for this. I swear. You can't be.
The dread feeling grows in my stomach, the longer I wait and sit there.
Maybe my collapsing and nausea weren't normal things. The doctor, Elwin, had scared me with his words – despite even his best efforts not to make a big deal out of it. I know better than to think that there isn't something wrong with my body here. I'm not naïve. I know that what's going on with my body isn't normal.
My mind drifts to Dex, who brought me in. I hope he isn't too worried about me. Have my parents arrived here yet? I mean, Grady hasn't busted anything down yet, so maybe not.
The thought makes me smile briefly.
But it disappears as another thought comes to the first and foremost part of my mind: Is Keefe here? Does he know I'm here? Is he worrying about me?
I hate that right now I want him here to make me feel better. I need a hug, and I crave the comfort of Keefe's touch. A hug from anyone would make me feel better, but a part of me just wants him here with me.
Is it the fact that we're soulmates, or is it me? I'm not even sure which one I want it to be at the moment, never mind which one it is.
They always say that love is a beautiful, magical thing. I want that – whatever it is. I want to experience that, to know that. Could I have that with Keefe?
I get distracted by the cold when the air conditioning turns on. Goosebumps rise along my skin. I feel so nervous right now, awaiting something unknown to me. I wish I weren't here, doing this by myself. I don't want to be alone right now, but I am.
I steel my nerves for about ten minutes, bracing myself for the news I'm about to hear. I can only hope that there's merely a small complication before I can get back on track with my life. Nothing serious, nothing big.
I'm hardly breathing when he walks into the room. The vibrating noise of his footsteps sets me on edge. All of me feels like I'm holding my breath for what's to come. It's probably not all that healthy, but I clearly haven't been paying attention to my health anyways.
I can't tell if I feel faint from anticipation or blood loss at this point.
When I see his expression, my heart drops. Something instantly lodges itself in the back of my throat. All I feel is dread.
"Well, I got your results back," Doctor Elwin says rather awkwardly. His expression is sad, and his previous playful tone hasn't left any remnants in his voice. He looks at me like he pities me, and it only makes me feel worse about what's to come. I can tell that he's hesitant to say anymore as he watches me carefully for my reaction.
I don't know how to feel. I just look at him, grounding myself with the eye contact between us. I need to hear this. I look at him to continue, uncertain of whether I could do anything more than that. It's like I'm telling him to tell me what emotion to feel, and in a way, I am, simply because the next words he utters are going to complicate my life in ways I've never imagined.
And he does continue.
"I'm an oncologist," he says. "Do you know what that is?"
I shake my head no. I get that he's wanting to break the news to me in the best way possible, but I want – no I need – him to hurry up with it. I'm about to go insane just sitting here waiting for whatever he's about to say.
"I'm a doctor that treats patients with cancer," he says gently, finally. And then it hits me, what he's saying. Nononononono. "You tested positive for something indicative of cancer. Specifically, you've shown symptoms of leukemia."
Maybe it's stupid, but my mind immediately goes to the hair on my head. Is all of it going to be gone in the future because of chemotherapy? I'm going to bullied more at school because of it all. Stina will have a good laugh once she realizes I'm going bald. My bones ache just thinking about the last time.
He looks at me for a reaction that I'm unable to give to him after he's done talking. All I feel is numb. Everything feels numb.
My world; upside down.
I don't know how to think or how to feel about this. With just two sentences, my world momentarily stops. For a moment, I just exist.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I don't know what I want to do. Should I cry? Scream? Shake? Would that make things better?
God, someone tell me this is just a horrific nightmare. Tell me I'll wake up and be fine. Tell me that there's a chance that I don't have cancer. Is it confirmed? I know that my chances aren't good, considering that I checked at least five of the boxes, metaphorically speaking.
Please.
Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.
And then my emotions that decided to take a vacation come flying back. They rush, taking everything by storm. I feel broken. Hopeless.
Gone.
Something glitches inside of me as I try to think. But my mind's gone completely blank.
Is this what heartbreak feels like? My life feels like it was just forcefully ripped from my hands. Something just broke inside of me, and I'm not exactly sure what it is.
Doctor Elwin carries on. "Of course, it's not confirmed that it's leukemia yet, but it's very likely considering your situation. Leukemia can often times feel like a cold or the flu. It can be present in your body for months or years before any symptoms are shown. Symptoms you've shown that match up include collapsing, dizziness, excessive unnecessary bleeding like you had, persistent fatigue, easy bleeding or bruising, and bone pain or tenderness."
It's sickening to me the way he just rattles off every single thing I've been feeling in the past few days that I've written off as something else. Sickening in the way I've overlooked myself and my needs. Sickening in the way that maybe I could've prevented this with earlier actions.
I'm sitting here rattled by just a bit of what he's saying. It's not all I have to hear, either. My eyes sting, and I resist the urge to bury my head in my pillow. Instead, I violently wrench a few eyelashes from each eye when he's not looking.
It's not a dream. The pain couldn't be more real, as I immediately regret what I've just done. But I'm more disappointed in the fact that this entire thing isn't just an awful dream. I feel faint enough to be hallucinating, but my gut tells me it's real.
"...bone marrow test out of your hip will confirm the type of cancer," he is saying when I tune back in. "We'll have to knock you out and extract a bit of bone marrow from your hip to send off to the lab. When we get results back in just a few short days, we'll know for sure what type of leukemia you have – which can explain a lot – and whether you have a shortage or abundance of white blood cells that are causing this cancer."
Right before he stops, I feel a tear escape an eye – one of the many I've been trying to hold back this entire time. It's just in time for him to look up and see that I'm crying before I can rid it from my cheek.
I don't want to feel weak. With cancer, I'll be getting weaker. I don't want to have this disease. I feel like the epitome of everything I don't want to be in this moment.
I don't cry. Sophie Elizabeth Foster doesn't cry. The last time I cried was years ago, when it happened.
"Sophie, I'm sorry," he says, so gingerly. I know he wishes this weren't the case. But sorry doesn't do anything in the end. Sorry can't cure me of cancer.
I avoid his eyes, feeling nothing more than complete embarrassment. "Let's just get the hip bone marrow test thing done."
A drop of water drops onto my leg and rolls off, leaving a small trail of wet.