Day +12
"Hello?"
"Hey Ash, Logan and I are on our way. Does anyone need anything?"
Logan's hand rests on my thigh as he drives, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb along my jeans. His head subtly bobs with the music, concentrating on the road.
"Actually, Mia asked for some dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets. I doubt she'll actually eat them, she really hasn't eaten for a while... but it's the first thing she has actually asked for so I feel like we need to get it for her. What do you think?"
"I think it's great she is asking for anything food-related. She's been on that TPN for a while now, I'm not surprised she isn't really hungry. We'll definitely grab some. You and Jack need anything?"
"No, I think we're good. Thanks Laur."
"Ask her how Mia's counts were," Logan interjects.
"Oh, Ash. What were Mia's counts for today?"
"Still no white blood cell count, really. Hang on, I wrote them down. Sorry, it's kind of hard to read it in the dark, Mia freaks out if you turn on the lights. Ah, okay, the white blood cell count is still 0.1, and her hemoglobin was 6.4, her platelets were 7. She has a blood transfusion going now, and she already got a bag of platelets. She's still getting all those antibiotics and stuff too. Stupid fever. Oh, and they said something else was high again but I can't remember what. It's so much to learn and keep track of, you know?"
I do.
"Okay, nothing too surprising, I suppose. She's probably going to be on antibiotics, anti-fungals, and antivirals for a very long time. They treat fevers very aggressively, especially when the white blood cell count is essentially nonexistent. She's just hanging out right now?"
"Yep. She's been fussy about turning on the lights, I feel like we've been hanging out in the dark for the entirety of the last two days. Poor girl, I wonder if she has a headache."
"Maybe," I respond, "or I wonder if it's just a control thing. She doesn't have control over anything else, you know? It's nice for her to feel like she actually has a say in anything, even if it is just the light in the room."
Ashley sighs, "Yeah, could be," she continues after a brief pause, "ugh, okay. I'll see you guys soon?"
"Yes, see you soon."
Logan raises a brow at me after I end the phone call, wordlessly questioning me.
"Mia wants to chomp on some dino-nuggets," I reveal with a grin.
"Seriously? She hasn't eaten in days. This is great. And dino-nuggets? Damn my girl has great taste!"
Contagious excitement pours off Logan, and it makes me smile. I place my hand atop his, squeezing it.
"She does! Now... don't be disappointed if she doesn't actually eat them, babe. Her appetite is all messed up from the chemo, the round-the-clock anti-nausea medications, the PCA, and the IV nutrition she's getting. But I'm not going to lie, I'm excited she asked for anything at all. She's been so tired and out of it lately."
Logan hesitates for a moment, resigned to the truth. "Yeah, I know. But we're definitely stopping off for some. No way is my girl asking for a specific food and not getting it."
"Agreed."
***
Our shopping cart squeaks lowly as the wheels spin across the white tiled floor; I push it ahead of me with every step, chuckling when Logan stops every few feet to examine a new snack in the aisle of the supermarket.
"Would you eat these? I feel like we need these for tonight," Logan questions, holding up another salty snack.
I chuckle at his enthusiasm, "You're like a little kid. C'mon, babe. Look at our cart—we're only spending two nights at the hospital and it's half-way full! We have more than enough."
"I hate it when you're right," Logan mutters, replacing the snack back on the shelf.
"So, all the time?" I tease.
He rolls his eyes at my unoriginal joke before shooting me a slow smile, his head shaking.
A loud, piercing ring interrupts our conversation.
"Huh, work is calling me. Weird. I'm not on the schedule for another three days."
Logan shrugs and motions for me to answer the call.
"Hello?"
"Lauren, it's Sarah."
"Hey, what's up?"
"I'm sorry to call you but... it's Jess. She's in the PICU right now. Her cancer has metastasized to her lungs and it was pushing on her heart. She's... she's not breathing on her own. I just... I thought you'd want to know."
Harsh, cold dread builds at the base of my throat, heavy and suffocating. It sinks lower and lower into my chest, my heart, my lungs, before settling like ice into my gut. My world blurs around me as tears fall down my eyes without restraint, my despair unbound. A sharp, anguished cry barely escapes my constricting throat as I think about my sweet, fun-loving, beautiful friend. Attempting to expel the despair from within, my body shakes uncontrollably.
I'm held still by large, steadying arms.
"Babe, babe, what's going on? Babe!"
Logan's voice is wild but anchoring as he seeks to reorient me, but his tone reveals his panic.
"We've, we've got to go... Jess..." I manage to whisper.
***
Sharp prickles of new-budding hair bristle against my palm, the growth delicate and hopeful. Naturally dark eyelashes rest peacefully against her pale cheek, hiding her playful, brown eyes. Jess' chest rises and falls with the tide of the ventilator, its soft whooshing an ever-present reminder that it's setting the pace of her long, even breaths.
Her soft, milky cheeks are covered with a tangle of tape and fabric, working together to secure the intubation tube to her face. Sedatives keep her asleep, preventing her from reacting to my touch, my words, my cries.
"Why? I thought... I thought the hard part was over. She had done it, she had done it all..." Jess' mother cries steadily beside me, her hand resting comfortably on my own. Grief hangs heavily in the air, and like a thief in the night, has once again stolen my voice.
The PICU nurse—Amanda—enters the room and gives us a small, sad smile. Wordlessly, she works with great precision and care to ensure all of Jess' IV pumps are programmed correctly, checking her monitors and the settings on the ventilator.
"Amanda," I whisper.
She looks up, "Hey, Lauren."
"What... what happened?"
"They're calling it superior vena cava syndrome. A new tumor formed in her chest and was compressing her superior vena cava, cutting off the blood blow to her heart. She woke up in the middle of the night, gasping for air. I guess she looked pretty blue, right Mom?"
Jess' mom nods, tears streaming down her face.
"Her oxygen saturation was very low when she came in and she was pretty delirious. Her face was pretty swollen and she couldn't talk. They had no choice but to intubate to establish a safe airway," Amanda continues.
Silence settles over us, each beat of my heart aligning with the steady whooshing of the ventilator. Jess' mom steps out after some time to get something to eat, leaving me alone with Jess.
Chipped, gray nail polish adorns Jess' fingers, a sharp contrast against my skin as I hold her hand in mine. My thumb traces soothing circles on her palm, hopeful the sensations are bringing her some comfort in her sedated state.
"Remember that guy? That one from the breakfast?" I pause to clear the lump in my throat, "Well, you were kind of right. They weren't all fighting for me like you initially thought but... he and I are together, now. I... I love him, Jess. I know you would, too. I think he's the one, babe."
Tears stream down my face as a strangled chuckle escapes my throat, "Please, please come back to me. I... I... want you to find what I've finally found, like you said. Everyone deserves love. I... I love you so much, Jess. Please."
My ramblings are met with silence, the whooshing ventilator laughing in the face of my despair. Time stands still and drags all at once as I beg the universe to finally, for once, show mercy—to no avail.
***
My feet drag with each tired step towards Mia's room, heavy and burdensome. Finally, I'm outside of her room, thankful I didn't run into any of my coworkers—I'm just not ready to talk about it yet.
"Hi guys," I mutter as I enter the room, my eyes working to adjust to the dark.
"Hey babe..." Logan greets, his voice gentle and understanding.
"How's my Mia?" I ask, attempting to bring cheer into my voice, my attitude, my soul.
"'Ren," Mia whispers.
I approach her bed, my desire to see her very high—I really need the boost. I kneel next to her and place my hand on her blanket, applying subtle pressure to her belly so she knows I'm here.
"Ah!" She screams, causing me to withdraw my hand immediately.
"Mia, Mia are you okay?"
Her screams turn to cries, loud and piercing.
"Logan turn on the light!"
I pull the blankets off of Mia as bright light illuminates the room, shining a spotlight on the dread in my gut.
Fuck.
Mia's stomach is large and round, protruding from her otherwise frail frame. Her skin has yellow undertones, emphasized by the subtle yellowness of her sclera—the whites of her eyes.
"Oh my God, she's yellow!" Logan booms.
"Mia, Mia, I'm going to touch your belly really softly, okay?"
"No!" She yells.
My hand slowly settles upon the upper right quadrant of her stomach, where her liver sits behind her stretched skin. The moment my fingers brush the area, Mia screams loudly, her face twisted in pain.
Shit, shit, shit.
"Logan, hit the Staff Assist button!"
I place the blood pressure cuff on Mia's arm and start the machine, multi-tasking to take her temperature as the cuff cycles. Logan paces beside Mia's bed, hands in his hair. My heart hammers in my chest with every rise of the thermometer. Finally, it beeps.
38.4℃.
Fuck.
Her blood pressure finally pops on the monitor, a lowly 71/38.
No no no.
I cycle the cuff again, willing the number to be wrong. Each pump of air into the cuff feels like a punch to my gut, my breaths heavy and uneven.
72/36.
The heady silence in the room is interrupted by an influx of nurses, physicians, and respiratory therapists. Chaotic conversations permeate the air, their presence reassuring and suffocating all at once. Hands land on my arms by my elbows, pushing me out of the way and towards Logan.
Sarah's eyes hold my own as she implores me to stand back.
My arms seek Logan's torso, my head settling against his pounding chest. His arms wrap around me, steadying himself against my shaking form.
His breaths are ragged and panicked, his arms trembling as they hold on to me.
"What is happening, Lauren? What's happening to my baby girl? Please, please tell me she's going to be okay!" He finally chokes out, tears streaming down his face.
His bargaining coerces heavy tears to fall from my eyes, my heart laden with despair. I dig deep within me, searching for the ability to lie to him, to tell him anything he might want to hear—to tell him that she's going to be okay.
But I can't. Because I don't know if she will be.
My shut eyes picture a bouncing Mia, playful and sweet. Her dark curls falling onto her face as she colors, her tongue sticking out of her mouth. I picture Jess showing me how to do the 'floss' dance, laughing hysterically when I botched it. I see Mia, Logan, and I in our unicorn onesies, cuddling and laughing.
A loud, anguished cry sounds from above me, and I see a trembling Logan losing his resolve.
I don't know if anything is ever going to be okay again.
***
A/N:
I'm not going to lie, I cried more than once writing this chapter.
Anyone predict Jess might make her way back into the story?
What does the timing of these two girls' decline mean for Lauren's mental/emotional stability?
Isn't it awful how quickly life can seem to do a complete 180 on us?
Any predictions on what is going on with Mia?
Any predictions for the rest of the story?
Thanks for reading!
If you enjoyed this chapter, vote for it by clicking that tiny star at the bottom of the screen. I appreciate it!
—Elise