Grace had her third chemotherapy treatment earlier this week. She said the past two weren’t too bad. She felt tired for a couple of days then seemed to bounce back fairly quickly. She doesn’t seem to be recovering too easily after this week’s round, driving my concern for her through the roof. I’m leaning against the counter, drinking a cup of coffee and watching her intently for any sign of an underlying problem.

“Stop staring at me. You’re starting to freak me out,” she says without looking up from her tablet.

“How do you know I’m staring at you? You’re busy reading.”

“I can feel your eyes on me. You’re distracting me from my book.”

“Are you blushing from me watching you or from what you’re reading? You know, I can do more for you than those imaginary men in your romance books can.”

A smile covers her face despite her attempt to remain unamused by my intrusion into her reading time. “That is very true. You do.”

“How can I entice you to put that book down and talk to me instead?”

“Hmm.” She pretends to think about her reply. “A back massage might persuade me.”

“That’s a deal I won’t pass up.” I move up behind her chair at the table and slide my hands under her sweater. The second I touch her skin, I know I was right to worry about her. “Grace, you’re burning up. Have you checked your temperature?”

“No,” she replies but avoids making eye contact with me.

“Nurses make the worst patients,” I mumble and head to the medicine cabinet to get the thermometer. When it shows she has a fever of 102 degrees, my full protective mode kicks into overdrive. “Call your oncologist and tell him. I’ll go pack an overnight bag for the hospital stay I know is coming.”

“This is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

“You asked for a back rub. How did you think I wouldn’t feel how hot you are?”

“I didn’t expect you to try to take my sweater off. I thought you’d just massage through it.”

“As high as your fever is, I still would’ve felt it. Call the doctor. Now.”

I take the stairs two at a time, rush into the bedroom, and start throwing the items we’ll need into an overnight bag. She’s on chemo, her immune system is compromised, and she’s running a fever. I won’t lose her to a common cold because she’s too stubborn to follow the rules. And it has to be a regular cold, because I can’t accept the alternative reasons that would explain why she’d be running a fever now.

She’s just hanging up with the doctor’s office when I rejoin her in the kitchen. “Well, what did they say?”

“Go to the ER. Tell them I’m on chemo and running a fever so they don’t dismiss me as just having a common cold. He’ll meet us there. Bring an overnight bag just in case.” She recites the instructions without emotion, but I can read between the lines. I can read her as well as she can read the book that held her attention so raptly.

She’s scared, like I am.

I wrap my arms around her from behind and rest my chin on her shoulder. “Babe, what other symptoms are you hiding from me?”

She sighs. “Fatigue. My throat is a little sore. Fever. Headache. Dry cough. Body aches.”

“Sounds like the flu to me, babe. Let’s go get you tested, maybe hook you up with some IV fluids to flush this out of you, and hopefully, we’ll be on our way back home tomorrow morning.”

“What about Kyle?”

“If it takes that long, I’ll call him when he gets out of school and explain. Or I’ll be here to pick him up and bring him back to the hospital with me. Either way, I’ll take care of him, and I’ll take care of you.”

“I’m scared, Blake.” She turns and buries her face in my chest, her fingers gripping the front of my shirt.

This is the first time she’s shown any real fear around me, the first time she’s been vulnerable at all about her condition. Staying positive about the future is easier when she’s strong and upbeat every day. Seeing her fear take over her normal optimistic nature stuns me silent for a moment while I try to think of the right thing to say.

“Grace, I won’t lie to you. Everything about this disease scares me. We can only take this one day at a time. No matter what happens, I’ll be right here beside you. When you’re weak, I’ll be your strength. When you’re in a dark place, I’ll be your light. I’ll never leave you, babe. I love you, until the end of time.”

“Do you remember why we started saying that to each other?”

Like a knife driven deep into my chest, the stabbing pain of that time returns to remind me. As if I could ever forget.

“The whole world was against us. Everyone told us we wouldn’t last, we were too young, we had our whole lives ahead of us, we shouldn’t have the baby, we should take a break from each other. Everywhere we turned, it seemed someone urged us to give up on everything we knew we wanted.

“If memory serves, it was after one particularly nasty fight with your parents, we sat in my car, and I held you while you cried. They said I’d leave you to raise our baby on your own, and that I was just using you to get what I wanted then I’d move on to the next girl in line. You asked me how I was so sure that would never happen. I told you all I needed was your love until the end of time. If you could promise me that, I could live without everyone else.”

She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t move either. With my arms wrapped around her, I can feel her body temperature, and the high fever concerns me. I have to get her to the hospital for immediate treatment. We can’t let anything get out of control—it’ll be too hard to get her health back in line if we do. She’s worried the fever and other symptoms are a sign that her tumors are growing or have already spread elsewhere. We’ve had enough bad news to last us a lifetime; we don’t need more. But we can’t avoid the symptoms altogether either.

“Let’s go, babe. You feel even hotter now than you did a few minutes ago. We’ll get through this together, no matter what is thrown at us. But I still say you caught the flu from someone, and your body just can’t fight it off because of the chemo. That’s my official diagnosis.”

“All right, let’s go, then. I’m holding you to that diagnosis, though.”

She maintains a tight grip on my hand during the entire ride to the ER. Her fears roll off of her and crash into me like tidal waves, but I maintain my composure. She’s worked up enough for both of us, and it’s my turn to be her strength.

Dr. Evers is already in the ER when we arrive, so thankfully, he helps us bypass the usual triage process and takes Grace straight back. Although, Grace knows all the nurses in this department since the ER and ICU share nurses in shortages and emergency situations, so they probably would’ve sent her straight back anyway.

“We’ll test for the flu first because I agree these symptoms are classic and would easily explain your fever. But since I don’t leave anything to chance, we’ll also run a few more lab tests and go from there. Plan on spending a night or two. We’ll get your IV started to push fluids into you. If you test positive for the flu, we’ll start you on antiviral medicines to help lessen the duration,” Dr. Evers says.

He leaves the room to write out his orders and schedule the tests, and a nurse Grace is friends with walks in with a hospital gown and kit to start her IV, followed by a lab tech with a throat swab. After the flu test swab is done, I help Grace change clothes and get comfortable in the bed.

Then the nurse spies the new tattoo on her inner arm.

“When did you get that?” Patti asks, placing her hand on her hip and piercing Grace with a knowing stare.

“Umm…recently,” Grace admits.

“Grace Hardy. You know you shouldn’t get tattoos while you’re on chemo. The risk of infection is too high.”

“I know, but it’s not infected. It’s already healed, so that’s not what’s causing these symptoms.”

Patti cuts her eyes at me. “You let her do this?”

“Let her? Like I could stop her from doing something she wants to do.”

Then Patti spots the matching tattoo on my arm. “You two got matching ink. While she’s on chemo. Are you both crazy?”

“Nurses make the worst patients. You know that,” Grace quips.

Patti laughs, not denying the fact, and gets Grace’s IV going. “We’ll get you well, hon. I’ll be back when we get some test results and I know which way your treatment will go, but you call me if you need anything at all until then.”

“Thanks, Patti.”

When we’re alone again, Grace looks up at me. “I know you need to work today. I’m okay here alone if you need to leave. It’ll be a while before we know anything.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I took the day off, so I’m all yours.”

Twenty minutes later, Patti comes back into the room. “Grace, your flu test is positive. We’re going to start you on the antiviral meds now. It won’t make you feel better right away, but it should help you get over it faster. Dr. Evers still wants to do a few other tests while you’re here, though. You’re being admitted, so we’ll transfer you up to a regular room in a few minutes.”

“If it’s just the flu, why is he running other tests? Just treat me and let me go home.”

“You’ll find Dr. Evers errs on the side of caution with his patients—always. Try not to worry about anything just yet.”

Easier said than done, Patti.

---

After two nights of IV hydration, medications, and Blake babying me with ice chips and cold compresses, I woke up this morning feeling better than I have in a long time. My fever spiked again after I was admitted, and that scared me. I mean, it really scared me. Dr. Evers hadn’t planned to do a new scan at this time to see if my tumors had grown or had spread anywhere else, but I strongly insisted.

Okay, in all honesty, my hysterics when my fever was still high yesterday scared Brent, and he relented to pacify me.

Now that I know my symptoms are truly from the flu and I already feel better today than I did yesterday, I’m able to rest easy again. Just having that verification in my back pocket takes a huge weight off my shoulders and clears my hazy vision. When I was sure the end was nearer than I originally thought, I couldn’t focus on anything else other than how much of my family’s lives I’d miss.

Now that I can see the big picture of my life again, I’m even more determined to check items off my Why Not list every day.

“Blake?” He’s asleep beside me, squeezed into this small hospital bed. With his head lying on my chest, I have free access to run my fingers over his neck and back. “Blake, honey?”

“Hmm?” He doesn’t move away from me—he tightens his arm around me.

“I need three things.”

“What do you need?”

“First, I need you to wake up.” I chuckle and lovingly stroke his cheek with my fingertips.

“I’m awake. Sort of.”

“Second, I really need to pee. My IV is still running wide open.”

“And third?”

“I need you to bring my Why Not list from home if Dr. Evers decides to keep me another day.”

That gets his attention.

He lifts his head and grins. “That means I actually get to see it. How about I help you to the bathroom then I’ll rush home and grab it for you?”

“How about you help me to the bathroom then we’ll see what the doctor says when he comes in?”

Blake slides up in the bed and snuggles into the crook of my neck. “Go ahead and tell me where it is, just in case.”

He’s so obvious, but then, he’s not actually trying to be sly. We both know he has wanted to see my list since the day I asked him and Kyle to make their own. The only reason I haven’t shown him is because I don’t want him so focused on working through my list that we never check items off his. Then it hits me—we want the same thing. We both want to see the other happy and fulfilled.

“It’s in the top drawer of my nightstand, in my black leather ARC notebook.”

He quickly raises up on his elbow and gives me the most bewildered look. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Does this mean I can finally see it?”

“Absolutely. Then you can help me pick which one of mine—and yours—we’re going to check off today. I don’t want to wait any longer to do all the things on our minds and in our hearts.”

“I want you to know it means a lot to me that you’re sharing your thoughts and dreams with me, Grace. I’ll bring my list back with me too, and you can go through every line. Babe, I can’t wait to start living the rest of my life with you.”

Blake helps me to the bathroom, then hangs around long enough to help me shower before he leaves. When my morning nurse comes in for one of her rounds, she eyes me suspiciously.

“You took a shower again this morning, didn’t you?”

“I did. I can’t stand not having one first thing when I wake.”

“And your IV?”

I shrug. “I’m an ICU nurse. I know how to unhook it and secure it long enough to bathe.”

She shakes her head, knowing she can’t stop me, and continues checking my vitals. “Your fever is below 100 degrees. That’s a good sign.”

“It’s still early, though. It’s usually higher in the afternoons than it is first thing in the morning. Think Dr. Evers will let me go home today anyway?”

“If it stays down by the time he makes rounds, he may discharge you. I will warn you, he normally waits until there’s no sign of fever at all, though. If he does let you go, he’ll expect you to keep a close watch on it and come straight back if it spikes again.”

I can handle that. Now that I know which medicines I’m allowed take for my flu symptoms, I’ll be much more able to treat it in the comfort of my own home. Blake and Kyle will also be there to make sure I don’t get away with anything.

My cell phone rings, and I smile when I see Blake’s face fill my screen. “Hello. Are you already home and reading my Why Not list?”

“I am—and you have some great ideas on here. I can’t wait to cross a lot of these off your list.” His chuckle warms my heart, because I know he’s picturing us together with every single item. “Are you okay there alone for a little while? I had an urgent voicemail from Rob about one of my large specialty doctor groups. They need me on a conference call this morning. But if you need me there with you, I can take the call on my cell.”

“I’ll be just fine. Don’t worry about me. My fever is already coming down. I hope Dr. Evers sends me home today. Take your time and handle your doctors’ questions and concerns. I’m not going anywhere. Maybe by the time you’re finished working, I’ll be all set to come home.”

“That would be the best news. I’ll call you as soon as this meeting is over. I love you, babe. Get plenty of rest, and I’ll talk to you soon.”

We disconnect, and I lean my head back on the pillow. My heart finally feels like it’s starting to mend. The stitches we’ve put in place over time are beginning to close the gaping wound that was once there. For the first time in a very long while, I feel hope blossoming in my chest. Despite my cancer. Despite my prognosis. Despite what’s happened between us in the past.

My life, my heart, and my soul will be full of love and happiness.