Casanova Cowboy (A Morgan Mallory Story) (38 page)

“We’re
going to the doctor tomorrow,” I said firmly.

She knew it wasn’t a request.
I slept on the other couch in the family room and helped her get the blankets on and off as her temperature changed. I fed her aspirin every four hours and wiped down her face with a cold cloth when she would burn up and sweat.

The
next morning she told me that she’d been seeing an internist, and that he had performed a lot of tests, all inconclusive. I called his office first. It was a Sunday so they had to page him. She showered and dressed as I nervously waited for his call. I realized that what she told me at Christmas wasn’t the whole truth. You didn’t see an internist for normal tests. I thought back to the night at the condo, the celebration of our engagement, where she hadn’t eaten much. I realized that whatever was going on had been going on for months, the filling up easily, the weight loss. I mentally started to look back over the last few months for other signs.

The doctor called me in after she had been in his office awhile.

“You need to take your
mom over to the hospital. I’ll come over as well. I have her scheduled to see a specialist, Dr. Chin. I think she has a ruptured appendix. I can feel a mass in this location,” the doctor said, pointing to his right side.

M
om had dressed and was sitting in the chair in the examining room, when I went in. She looked like a frightened child, her eyes large and fearful. Even as sick as she was I hadn’t ever thought of her as frail and now I did and it scared me. I wished Ryan were here to reassure us both.

“Come on
, Mom,” I said gently, trying to overcome her paralyzing fear of doctors, “you heard the doctor.”

I walked arm
-in-arm with her to the hospital next door; Dr. Burns and Dr. Chin meeting us in Emergency. I could tell Mom was scared. They led her to an examining room behind a white curtain. It smelled of hospital, antiseptic, sterile, bringing back memories of when I crashed Max’s Blazer. Bright white lights shone from the ceiling reflecting off the polished linoleum floors.

“Just lie back and let me have a look,” Dr. Chin instructed.

Mom grabbed the side of the bed and slowly reclined. She stared blankly at the ceiling and I held her hand, squeezing it to reassure her while Dr. Chin examined her.

“Dr. Burns is probably right
; it feels like a ruptured appendix. We need to get her into surgery right away,” he said.

The nurse got us all the form
s, and with my hand shaking I filled them out for Mom to sign.

“Here Mom, sign right here,” I instructed handing her the pen.

I felt like our roles had reversed, like she was the child and me the adult, now taking charge. They had her change into a hospital gown and hooked her up to an IV. She got a little teary, and I told her it would be all right as I dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex.
Oh, Ryan, I’m so scared
. Any surgery was worrisome, but emergency surgery, a ruptured appendix, I knew that could kill a person. I jumped as the anesthesiologist whipped the curtain back and came into the room.

“Mrs. Mallory, I’m going to start the fluid that will put you to sleep. You won’t feel a thing and you won’t remember falling asleep. Once you are asleep we will get you into surgery,” she said
calmly with a small smile.

“Okay,” Mom replied weakly.

We watched in silence as the drug was administered. Mom’s body was stiff with fear. I held her hand and waited for her to fall asleep. Her eyelids got heavy and I could see the drugs start to affect her pupils as she slowly blinked and then she was out. I kissed her forehead trying to convince myself that everything would be all right. Dr. Chin and Dr. Burns came back a few minutes later to check on her.

“Dr. Chin will take it from here,” Dr. Burns said noting that she was indeed asleep. “This is his specialty so she’s in good hands.”

“I need to call my fiancé and my dad,” I said my voice catching in my throat.

“I’ll show you where you can wait.
There is a phone there. It should only be about a forty-five minute procedure,” he said, trying to reassure me.

I leaned over Mom and kissed her cheek.

“I love you,” I whispered.

I followed
Dr. Chin out of the room, down several long halls, to a small room with green chairs and pale, muddy pink walls. It was very sterile looking with low ceilings and very little light. I wondered who would decorate a waiting room to look this sparse and ugly. There was nothing comforting about it; it would have been better if it had been left plain white.

“Phone is
right there,” he said, pointing to the table in the corner.

“Dr. Chin
,” I said hesitantly “if it’s not a ruptured appendix, what else could it be?”

My mind was racing, wondering what could be the worst situation. I
longed to be back with her, near her, holding her warm hand.

“It could be a lot of things
,” he answered contemplating.

“What’s the worst it could be?” I
pushed.

“The worst it could be is cancer, but I don’t think it’s that because the mass feels too large.
I’ll see you in a bit,” he said with a forced smile as he closed the door.

Alone in the room that terrible word reverberated in my head.
Cancer, please don’t be cancer.
I dialed Ryan at home and explained what was going on. I could tell by his voice he was very worried.

“
Go by my folks’ house and get Dad’s itinerary on the counter. It should be by the phone. I need to call him,” I instructed. “I’m scared Ryan.”

“
I can imagine. I’ll be there as fast as I can. Hopefully she’s out by the time I get there,” he said.

“Let’s hope.”

It seemed like forever before Ryan showed up. When he opened the door I rushed to him, and he hugged me, holding me, and I finally let the tears come.

“It will be ok
ay,” he comforted me as he rubbed my back.

He pulled away and wiped the tears from my face. He took my hand and we sat down in the chairs by the phone.

“I hope this is what you need,” he said handing me a paper.

I fo
und the number of the hotel Dad was staying at in Miami. Unfortunately he wasn’t in, so I left a message with the front desk. The clock on the wall clicked loudly. Ryan continued to hold my hand as the minutes and then hours clicked by. We were on hour two when Dad called. I told him the whole story from when Ryan went by the house.

“Oh, Dad, she was so fri
ghtened. I was glad I could be with her until she was out.”

“Me too,” Dad s
ighed.

I could tell he was worried, could picture him in the hotel room sitting on the side of the bed rubbing his hairline with his fingers
nervously.

“Dr. Chin said it would be less than an hour and it’s been two already. Each minute that goes by I feel more anxious.”

“Ryan’s with you I assume.”

“Yes, he’s here. I don’t think I could bear the wait if he wasn’t.”

Ryan smiled at me.

“Call me when you know something. I’ll wait in the room till I hear back from you.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“Love you.”

I hung up the phone and Ryan leaned over and kissed me. Another hour passed, when a nurse called from the operating room to tell me they were still working on Mom.

“Is she al
l right? Has something happened?” I asked, frantic.

I could feel every nerve in my body tense. People died in surgeries all the time.

“She’s fine,” she said. “It’s taking longer than Dr. Chin expected. She should be out soon.”

Her words didn’t give me any sense of relief; I only knew at this point she was still alive.
The minutes seemed to crawl by, the clicking of the clock marking every one of them. Each time it clicked I felt I might leap out of my skin. Ryan held my hand on and off, trying to comfort me the best he knew how.

“Ryan
, why do you think she hid the tests from me?”

“I’m sure she didn’t want to worry you.”

“But it must have been weighing heavy on her mind.”

“She didn’t want it weighing heavy on yours and it would have,” he said
forlornly.

“
Obviously I should have asked more questions when she told me they were normal tests. Has she seemed sick to you?”

“No, I told you that. We both commented on her losing weight, but she pawned it off on stress. And god knows we gave her enough of that,” he answered leaning forward in his chair.

I could see by the slumping of his shoulder
s he felt some regret in his causing her stress. I put my arm around him and rested my head on his shoulder.

When Dr. Chin finally came into the room
, he sat down and placed his head in his hands. He had on faded green scrubs, his white facemask pulled down under his chin. I looked at the clock; four hours and nineteen minutes had gone by since she went into surgery. My heart sank, the hope I’d held onto torn from me by the pained expression on his face. I somehow knew that whatever he was about to say would forever change my world. I locked my arm through Ryan’s and squeezed his hand. I felt my nose burn and the tears well before he started to talk. When the doctor looked up at me, there were tears in his eyes.

“It’s cancer.
I got some of it, but I can’t get it all, I tried so hard. It’s gone too far,” he said softly.

Chapter 48

I felt like I was in a movie, in someone else’s life. Like if maybe, I could go back and start the day over from the beginning, the outcome would be different. Dr. Chin waited for my response.

“So when you say you can’t
get it all, does that mean it’s going to kill her?” I asked, knowing the answer.

             
“Yes, it’s terminal,” he answered.

             
He explained that it started as colon cancer, but spread to other organs in her body: the liver, the pancreas.

“Why didn’t Dr. Burns know it was cancer?”

“He can’t see inside, he’d only run some tests trying to find out why she wasn’t feeling so good,” Dr. Chin said. “Unfortunately all the test had come back inconclusive.”

“She wasn’t feeling good?” I asked
dazed, wondering why she hadn’t said a word to me.

He aske
d if we had seen any signs, which is the part that shocked us the most, because we hadn’t. He explained that colon cancer was a slow cancer, and to get this far, she must have had it a long time. I told him I started to notice her weight loss when Ryan and I got engaged. That she wasn’t eating very much.

“She was a little more tired than normal too.
She told me she’d seen a doctor, and that the tests were okay,” I sighed.

             
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

             
“How long?” I asked, feeling like a knife was twisting in my gut.

             
He understood my question.

             
“With cancer it’s hard to tell. It could be a day, a week, a month, a year. I would say in her case it would be months at the very most,” he answered.

I looked at
Ryan, trying to process the information. We were talking about my mother, my confidante, my best friend.
How can this be happening?

“We’re getting married in three months
. Should I move up the date?” I asked, my words sounding foreign to me.

             
“I wouldn’t,” he said. “It gives her something to live for.”

             
Oh, god!
I tried to choke back the tears and couldn’t any longer. A gasping sound burst from my lips and Ryan pulled me tightly to him. I buried my face in his chest and sobbed.

             
“Do you want to see her?” Dr. Chin asked.

             
“Can I?” I choked, turning from Ryan.

             
“I can take immediate family into the recovery room.”

             
He meant that Ryan wasn’t allowed. My lips were trembling as I wiped my tears. The look on Ryan’s face was so pained, as if it was his own mother. I kissed Ryan, and then followed Dr. Chin out of the room. He took me down a long hall and into a brightly lit room where a nurse was attending to Mom.

“Will she wake up?” I asked
nervously.

“No
, we’ll keep her sedated through the night. She’ll wake up some time tomorrow morning,” Dr. Chin said.

             
“Who will tell her?” I asked.

             
“I will. When you are ready,” he said.

             
I explained that my dad was out of town, and he would want to be there. I would need to call him and tell him the horrible news. He would need time to get home. Right now he still thought it was a ruptured appendix; I hated to be the one who had to deliver the devastating blow.

             
Mom was lying on her side on a recovery gurney, sleeping. I looked at her face and watched her breathe; she looked so peaceful. I was almost sorry she would have to wake up. I noticed a few tiny blood splatters on her cheek.

“Do you have a tissue
?” I asked the nurse.

             
She noticed what I saw and gave me a wet tissue. I wiped the blood gently off her face. I couldn’t believe that tomorrow I would have to watch as the doctor told her she had cancer, and that it was terminal. That she was dying. It was almost more than I could stand. The tears welled and spilled out of my eyes, sliding silently down my cheeks. I stroked her arm and her cheek, both felt so familiar and soft.

“How c
an I lose you?” I choked out. “How do I do that one?”

I let the tears come and hugged her gently to me.
From here on out, it would be moments I realized, every moment had to count. When I left the recovery room, I went back to where Ryan was and called Dad. He told me he would get on the next flight available for home. I could tell he was devastated. When I hung up Ryan took my hand pulling me up from the chair.

“Let’s go
get something to eat and then go back to your folk’s.”

I realized I hadn’t eaten anything all day and neither had Ryan. I wasn’t the least bit hungry, but he probably was.

“I left Bo with Skyler, not knowing how long we would be,” Ryan said.

He slipped his arm around my waist and walked me out of the hospital. I was numb, my movements seeming strained and forced. The sun was still shining and I wondered how.
How did one get news like this and the sun continue to shine?
It seemed to me it should be dark and gloomy. Ryan opened the door to his van and helped me in.

We
stopped at a Marie Callender’s. Getting into the booth felt like an extreme effort. It felt strange to being doing such normal things. I envisioned Mom sleeping peacefully on her side. The tears pressed forth as I looked at the menu, which blurred. I sighed and Ryan looked over at me, as he gently squeezed my leg.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said.

“Morgan, I want you to eat something.”

I tried to look at the menu again. When the waitress came I ordered a soup and salad and ate very little.

“Eat a little more
,” Ryan encouraged, as he would a child.

             
I took a couple more bites and put my fork down. A terrifying thought had popped into my head.

             
“Ryan, what if she doesn’t make it till the wedding?” I cried. “If she isn’t at the wedding, I don’t know what I will do. How could I handle that?”

             
I could tell by his reaction that the same thought had already crossed his mind.

“
Remember what the doctor said, give her something to live for,” he said sadly.

             
We went back to my parents’ house, and Ryan got me a glass of wine and built a fire in the fireplace. It wasn’t that cold out, but he knew I liked a fire, that it would comfort me. Dad had left a message on their home answering machine. He would be home on the red eye, putting him in San Diego at six in the morning. He would go directly to the hospital from there. I called him at his hotel.

“Dad
,” I said when he answered the phone.

             
“You got my message?” he asked.

             
“Yes, Ryan and I will stay here tonight with the dogs. We will plan on meeting you at the hospital around eight. I’ll call Dr. Chin and see what time he wants to meet us. Dad, Mom looked so peaceful in the recovery room; she was sleeping,” I said, a sob spilling out. “I wish she didn’t have to know.”

             
“You and me both,” he whispered. “Did you find Pat yet?”

             
“No, but I’ve left messages at several of his friends.”

             
I knew he would pack and get to the airport way early to wait for his flight. Like me, he would hit the
rewind
button and remember the past; that it would rush at him like a freight train. No doubt reliving some things he could have done differently, better.

That night
Ryan and I slept in my parents’ bed. Smelling Mom’s scent on the sheets was comforting in a strange way, as though she were wrapped around me. I never did fall asleep. I listened to Ryan breathe and stared at the wallpaper on the wall. I remembered when we picked it out. I saw us going through wallpaper book after wallpaper book at the design shop where I had worked. She had been so excited about redoing her room. It was the summer I had the accident, the summer that I had to get a job. I counted back: it was eight years ago.

It seemed odd to
me, these thoughts, that wallpaper mattered. I looked back over the last few years and tried to identify any glaring signs that should have told me she was sick. That the cancer was growing slowly inside her. I had been so focused on getting healed myself, and maybe I’d missed something. As much as I searched, I couldn’t find anything that would have clued me in.

Ryan
had been so supportive today. I wondered how I would have coped if he wasn’t there; if he hadn’t come back to me. Our breakup and Tahoe now seemed a world away, almost like different people had played those roles. I pictured my mom, snapshots over the years clicking through my head. I reached back in my memory, wanting to remember it all. I saw her laughing on the merry-go-round in Monterey. We had climbed on the horses like kids. She had reached for my hand as the horses went up and down. I had held her hand, trying to get over Ryan then on our way to Tahoe. I could have been three again; it was still that comforting.

A
mother wasn’t always easy. Mom hadn’t always been easy, but we became best friends along the way. I found it tragic that I had gained back a best friend who I was about to marry, and yet I was losing the one who supported me through everything. The one who bandaged my knees and kissed away the bumps and bruises of life, no matter how old I got.

I stared at the wallpaper in the dark and suddenly questioned why it was
still there after so many years. She should have changed it in that time; I should have made her. She should have had new things.

Ryan
turned over towards me and pulled me to him. I hoped for a minute that he was awake, that he could listen to my pictures, but he wasn’t. I held him to me, wanting him never to go, worrying that one-day one of us would. I knew tomorrow would be even worse than today, because tomorrow we all had to face the reality of the situation, face
terminal
. I felt hot tears run out of my eyes and down the side of my face. It seemed like forever before morning came, the darkness surrounding me. Light crept into the room slowly, and I watched it change the wallpaper back into colors.
The sun still came up.
I was lying on my back when Ryan woke up.

“Did you s
leep?” he asked, leaning over to kiss me.

He
kissed me softly as he ran his finger down the side of my face, following the trail of tears.

             
“No,” I said as more leaked out.

             
My mind wouldn’t stop, but my body felt exhausted.

             
“I’m so sorry. So damn sorry about it all,” he said, kissing me again.

             
“I decided last night that I hate this wallpaper,” I said.

             
He looked surprised and then surveyed the room.

             
“Is that what you stayed up all night about? The wallpaper?” he asked with a smile.

             
“It seemed better to worry about the wallpaper than what we have to face today,” I said. “She has to learn today, when she wakes up, that she’s dying. Seems like crazyville. It almost would have been easier if she hadn’t made it through the surgery, to have never known.”

“No it wouldn’t
,” he protested. “At least this way you will have a chance to say goodbye.”

             
I choked out a loud sob, and he pulled me tightly to him.

             
“How do I do this, Ryan? How do I say goodbye?” I sobbed out angrily.

             
“We’ll learn together, you and me,” he said softly.