Chapter Twenty-Four
Olivia
Wednesday morning, I went to the hospital to visit Mom again. I had spoken to Harlan's mom the night before and told her that I wasn't able to keep the daycare open for the week, something that I should have done on Monday when Mom first went into the hospital. But I had thought, somehow, that she would be coming home, that this was just a routine problem and that everything was going to be all right. Then, by the time I'd gotten home that evening, it had been too late to call over and tell Mrs. Ambrose that I couldn't watch Harlan the following day.
I didn't know what Eric was doing with Emma for the week since I knew he couldn't leave her with Helen anymore. But he hadn't brought her in, and I hadn't called to ask. I was still so upset with him, and I couldn't believe the things that he had said to me.
“Ah, Ms. Sable,” one of the doctors said as he entered the room. I recognized him vaguely from my trip to the hospital on Monday. He shook my hand as I stood up. “I'm Dr. Halsey, one of the leading oncologists here, and I've been keeping an eye on your mother. Could we step out into the hallway for a moment to discuss our options at this point?”
I looked back at Mom, but she smiled tiredly up at me. “I need to take a nap anyway,” she told me, her voice raspy from the coughing that she'd done and slurred from the sedatives they were giving her to help treat the pain.
I nodded at her, blinking back tears, and stepped out into the hall.
“I'm afraid things aren't looking very good for your mother,” Dr. Halsey said, looking sympathetic. “At this point, we only have two options.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “Eric—or rather, Dr. Jones—mentioned something about operating on her, to remove the tumors from her lungs. But he didn't seem to think that was a good idea.”
Dr. Halsey frowned. “It's a risky operation,” he told me. “And I can't guarantee that it would be effective. However, if we were successfully able to remove the tumors, we could try to start radiation therapy to get rid of the cancer.” He paused. “But I don't want to mislead you: the chances are slim, even if the operation did go well. And as I'm sure you know, surgery and chemotherapy can be very expensive.”
“I understand that,” I said, nodding my head. “But you said there were two options, didn't you? Maybe some sort of experimental treatment?”
Dr. Halsey sighed. “I'm afraid that option B is to make your mother as comfortable as possible and realize that she won't be long for this world.”
“Oh,” I said in a small voice. So it was exactly what Eric had already told me, albeit in kinder words than he had used. I glanced back toward the door to Mom's room, wishing that I could talk it over with her. But that was out of the question, in her given state. The sedatives were too strong, and she couldn't talk very much given the difficulty that she was having with breathing.
I considered talking things over with Dr. Halsey, but I didn't like the idea of Mom's life resting in the hands of someone who was so impartial. Dr. Halsey didn't know Mom. He couldn't possibly weigh in on what she might want.
“I know it's a difficult decision to make, but it's important that you make the decision soon if you want to try to undergo surgery,” Dr. Halsey reminded me. “The longer we wait, the more time the cancer is going to have. Soon, it could be impossible to even attempt to remove her tumors. Because you have power of attorney, and given your mother's current state, it's up to you to decide on her behalf.”
I nodded distractedly, still thinking of who I could talk to about this. But I knew there was only one option: Eric. I bit my lower lip, wondering if he would even agree to talk to me. I had to call him, though.
“Thank you, Dr. Halsey,” I said. “I'll let you know as soon as I've made the decision.”
As he turned away and walked down the hall, I pulled out my phone, finger hesitating over the call button. Finally, I shook my head and headed out to my car, driving back into town. It would be better to do this in person.
I knocked on the door of Eric's office before poking my head inside. He was alone, but it looked like he was just on his way out the door. I pushed down a surge of disappointment.
Eric looked surprised to see me. “How's your mother?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No change,” I told him. I paused, wondering if I should apologize. But I couldn't feel sorry for yelling at him, not when he'd said such mean things to me. I decided to just push past it. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about the surgery. I don't know who else to talk to.”
Eric's face looked sympathetic for a moment. Then, he looked at his watch. “I was just headed out for lunch,” he told me. “And I have appointments all afternoon.”
“Maybe we could talk over lunch?” I asked, feeling desperation surge inside of me. If he refused to talk to me about this, there was no way I'd be able to make a decision.
Eric studied my face for a long moment. “Why don't we grab a picnic lunch and drive up to the lake, where we won't be disturbed?” he suggested. “I'll cancel my afternoon appointments.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“You head to the grocery store and grab provisions,” Eric instructed. “I'll reschedule my appointments. I should be ready to go by the time you get back.”
I nodded, glad to have something to do, and scurried out of the doctor's office and over to the general store.
Our drive up to the lake was silent. I wanted to talk, but I wasn't sure what to say. Talking about Mom's medical situation while Eric was driving didn't seem like the best idea. But the comfortable camaraderie that we once had seemed to have vanished, replaced by a terse and awkward silence that persisted until we had finished our food.
We were sitting on the hood of his car, enjoying the warm, late spring weather and the view of the lake. It could have been romantic, but romance was the furthest thing from my mind at the moment. Instead, my thoughts were consumed with the fight that we'd had and with thoughts of my mother's declining health.
“I presume you talked to Dr. Halsey,” Eric said finally.
I nodded, glad to have that opening. “I did,” I said. I sighed. “He told me the same thing that you did: that the only two options are to either try to remove the tumors surgically or else to accept that she's going to pass very soon.” I paused. “I don't know how to decide for her, though. But it's not like she's in the right state of mind to make the decision herself.”
Eric hummed a response, but he didn't say anything. I barreled on.
“I think I want to try the surgery, but I feel selfish for thinking that,” I admitted. “Mom was so adamant that she didn't want to go through with chemotherapy and the rest of it, and I feel like I'm going against her wishes if I drag her through those treatment options. What if she manages to make it through the surgery and hates me for it? But I thought, maybe if I knew more about the surgery, that would help me make my decision.”
“And you couldn't talk about this with Halsey?” Eric asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
I swallowed hard, glancing away, toward the lake. “He didn't know her,” I said.
“Doesn't know her,” Eric corrected, something twisting in his face. “She's still alive, albeit hospitalized.”
“Right,” I said softly. “He doesn't know her. I can't rely on him to help me choose what's best for her if he has no idea what she might want.” I gave a brittle laugh. “I know that sounds stupid and probably doesn't make much sense.”
Eric was quiet for a long moment. “Don't forget that I lost a loved one before,” he finally said. “I've had to make similar decisions.”
I didn't know what to say in response to that. I knew that he must be thinking about his wife, and I realized I still didn't know what had happened to her. But now wasn't the time to pry, not when our relationship was already so strained.
“Your mother could never hate you. She’s your mother,” Eric said quietly.
I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes, but Eric wasn't finished.
“Here's what I can tell you about the medical treatment. If the tumors can be removed, her breathing should improve, and then the radiation therapy could help push back the cancer. It's not a permanent solution, by which I mean that it's basically impossible that we would be able to eradicate the cancer entirely. However, it would give her more time with you and more time to sort out her affairs.”
“Sort out her affairs,” I echoed bitterly.
Eric grimaced. “I know that you don't want to be thinking about wills and final resting wishes, but that's the stage that we're at,” he said gently. “I know you already have power of attorney for her; she mentioned she had done that so that you receive legal documents regarding her house while you were living in Chicago and she was moving to Tamlin.”
I nodded. “That's why this is my decision now,” I told him. I shook my head. “I never would have signed that paper if I'd known that it would be used for this.” I should have looked more into it instead of blinding assuming I understood what the Power of Attorney could or would allow.
“Better that you signed that paper than leaving her with no choice at all,” Eric said softly.
I considered that for a moment and then sighed. “What do you think would be the better choice?” I asked.
Eric stared at me for a long moment, but I continued looking at the water, unable to face the pity in his eyes. “I would take the risk,” he finally said. “I would try the medical treatment. And I'm not just saying that as a doctor; I'm saying that as someone who knows your mother. The two of you are close; I know that. I would take the risk, because on the chance that it's successful, she'll have a little more time with you, and I think that's what she would really want.”
“What about her quality of life during the treatment, though?” I asked. “That's what she was worried about with the chemo to begin with. She said that she'd read all these stories about how chemo gives a person a shitty quality of life, and she wasn't interested in that for herself.”
Eric paused. “It will likely be painful and uncomfortable for her during the treatment,” he admitted. “But isn't that pain and discomfort worth it, if it means the chance for a longer life and more time with her loved ones?”
I wasn't sure, but then I thought about the baby that was growing inside of me. If it just came down to her having more time to spend with me, I wasn't sure that it was what she would have wanted, not if it meant that she was in pain the whole time. But she had always wanted to have grandchildren, and if prolonging her life, despite the pain, meant that she would get to meet her unborn grandson or granddaughter, I had to think that maybe it was worth it.
I swallowed hard, knowing that there wasn't really a decision to be made when I thought of it that way.
I wanted to ask Eric more questions, to ask what he would have done if he were in my shoes if it was his own mother that was in this predicament. I still wanted to ask about his wife, about how he'd lost her and about what decisions he'd had to make for her welfare. To find out how similar those decisions really were to what I was facing.
I wanted to reach out and take his hand, or even better: to fold myself into his arms and cling to him. I was in need of a good cry still; the one that I'd had the other day, on my own in the hospital room, hadn't helped me.
But things were too strained between Eric and me. There was a wall between us now, dividing us. A giant elephant in the room: the fight that we'd had the other day, which apparently neither of us was ready to apologize for. And a secret as well.
I rested a hand against my stomach for a brief moment and then retracted it, hoping that he hadn't seen and that he hadn't guessed what the subconscious train of thought was that had led to that motion. I needed to tell him about the baby, but now didn't seem like the right time.
Actually, there were two secrets between us, but the other secret, I wasn't fully ready to admit even to myself. The more I talked to him like this, the more I realized how much I trusted him and how much I valued his opinion. The more I realized that I wanted more with him. The more I realized that I loved him.
The thought was sobering, especially in light of the fight that we'd had. I couldn't even admit to him the level of feelings that I had. And there were so many more important things for me to think about at the moment.
I swallowed hard and picked at the remainder of my lunch. Finally, he got the hint, realizing that I wasn't going to say more, and he drove me home.