A Rose for Melinda (23 page)

Received emergency call at 11:10 A.M. from ICU nurse who witnessed a seizure in this 15 y/o leukemic patient with recently diagnosed meningitis. Upon my arrival, patient was unresponsive and hypotensive. Blood pressure continued to drop despite rapid infusion of IV dopamine. Respiratory arrest ensued at 11:21 A.M. shortly followed by asystole on cardiac monitor. CPR was begun and patient was intubated. She received multiple doses of epinephrine and atropine. She briefly regained a pulse after 10 minutes of resuscitation, but went into ventricular tachycardia. Sinus rhythm could not be restored with IV lidocaine, and multiple shocks were administered via defibrillator. She remained in cardiac arrest. CPR was continued for more than 30 minutes to no avail. The patient never regained a heartbeat and was pronounced dead at 11:58 A.M. I met with family members standing byin the ICU waiting room and notified them of
unsuccessful resuscitation efforts. Body will be taken to hospital morgue pending funeral arrangements by the parents. Submitted: 12:15 P.M., July 16

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm writing this the night before I go into the Chamber. I gave it to Bailey to put with my special box in my closet, because I know that you'll find it someday. Maybe next week, or even years from now when I've moved away and you've decided to clean out my room, but whenever you find it, I want you to know how much you both mean to me.

I know the procedure is a gamble. If it works, I'll be the happiest person in the world. If it doesn't … well, at least I didn't go down without a fight. Remember that. I
wanted
this chance. Mom, thank you for your bone marrow. Thank you for staying by me day and night (even when I was thirteen and not so very nice to you. I didn't mean to be hateful). I was so angry about having leukemia! Why me? Why did I have to get sick? I had so many plans. I was going to be a prima ballerina. I was going to dance all over the world. Instead, I was sick, on chemo, bald and hideous-looking. Dad, thank you for taking us to Europe. Thank you for letting me pursue my ballerina dreams.

This time around, I know that it's not all about ME. It's about making the best of whatever time I'm given. And about family and friends and leaving them good memories.

Thank you for being the two best parents in the
world. I've always felt sorry for Bailey and Jesse be
cause they never had the kind of family I have. Not their fault either. It's simply the way life worked out for them.

Cancer isn't the worst thing that can happen to a person. And neither is dying young. Taking life for granted, living badly—these things seem far worse to me. In many ways—ways that count—I'm the luckiest girl in the world. Here's something I wrote when I was thirteen.

The Things I've Learned from Having Cancer
by Melinda Skye

1. Be GLAD for every new day.
   

2. It's okay to cry.
   

3. It's okay to feel sorry for yourself (but not too sorry).
   

4. Good friends are good medicine.
   

5. Love is the best medicine of all.
   

I love you both with all my heart. And I always will.

Melinda, your loving daughter

Elana's Journal

July 17, midnight

I went into Melinda's room and found her memory box on her closet shelf. On top was a letter addressed to me and Lenny. I held it for a long time before I found the courage to open it. The letter comforted me greatly when I read it. After Lenny reads it, I will make a copy and put the original into our safe-deposit box. It will be the thing I treasure most now that she's gone. Passages are already branded into my heart.

Her box held so many keepsakes important to her. I found a sealed letter with Jesse's name on it. I wanted to tear it open and read it, but I knew I couldn't betray her that way. I'll give it to him in the morning …the day of her funeral.

I found her first pair of ballet shoes from when she was five. Were my daughter's feet ever that small? I held them to my nose and could still smell the baby powder she used before she put them on. I cried so hard, I stained the satin.

Dearest Jesse,

If you're reading this, I didn't make it through the whole bone marrow transplant thing. You see, I wrote this letter before I went into isolation, and I gave it to Bailey to put in my memory box where Mom would find it and give it to you … just in case. I want you to know how sorry I am life didn't work out for us. We've grown up together, but we won't grow old together. Too bad. I'd have liked to see you become a doctor.

I found a piece of paper in my memory box with the class rules from the first day of school. I can't even remember why I kept it, but I did. The last rule was the best: Be kind to each other. Jesse, you have always been kind to me. I'm not sure why. I'm very ordinary … just a regular girl with a few dreams and some bad luck (leukemia …go figure). Here's something you should know: Having you in my life made me very happy. And that matters a lot when I had to cram a whole lifetime into just fifteen years.

Please don't miss me too much. Please don't be too sad. Find someone else to love, because you have much love to give and it's a gift that shouldn't be wasted. You, Jesse, were the rose that made my life sweet.

I will wait for you in heaven.

Melinda Skye

TO:
Bailey
Subject:
A Favor

I want to leave one final message with Melinda. I want to slide it under her hand in her casket, and I don't want anyone to find it and take it away. I want it to be with her for all time. If you can distract anyone who's standing by her casket when I come up for a final goodbye, I'd be grateful. Will you help?

Jesse

TO:
Jesse
Subject:
Re: A Favor

Yes. I'll help.

Bailey

It may be a lifetime before I see you again on the far side of time. Wait for me. Look for me. Please don't forget me, Melinda Skye, because one day I will come to you. I will come.

Jesse Rose.