Amelia

“Miss Hart, I’ve got the blood test back, and I hate to have to tell you this, but the cancer has returned.” All air in the room has been sucked out when he delivers those last four words. I start shaking my head, refusing to believe what he is saying, and yet… I know.

I can see the difference in Carson already.

Just like last time.

He was running around, being a little boy, getting into everything, and in the next moment, everything changed. Within a week, he had lost ten pounds and could barely keep any food down.

“Chemo?” I ask, but Dr. Hill shakes his head.

“We won’t be able to start the chemo this time. Not yet, anyway.”

“Why? I don’t understand. He needs the chemo to kill the cancer.”

“I’m sorry. I wish there were a way, but unfortunately, his body isn’t strong enough to handle chemo or radiation at this time. I’m not sure how much you know about the process of chemotherapy and the way it actually works, but essentially, chemotherapy and radiation therapy generally affect cells that divide rapidly. They are both used to treat cancer because cancer cells divide more often than most healthy cells.”

I nod my head. I already know this. Hell, anyone stuck in a hospital for twenty-four hours a day can tell you how boring it gets. When I get bored, I read. It doesn’t matter what I’m reading, just as long it can occupy my mind for a little while. I can’t imagine how many brochures I read on cancer and chemo the last time Carson was in the hospital.

Hundreds, if not thousands.

“However, because bone marrow cells also divide frequently, high-dose treatments can severely damage or destroy the patient’s bone marrow. Without healthy bone marrow, the patient is no longer able to make the blood cells needed to carry oxygen, fight infection, and prevent bleeding. In short, without a bone marrow donation, Carson will not be able to have chemo or radiation therapy.”

“So what are you saying? We just sit here and wait while the cancer leeches the life from him one day at a time?” I’m yelling and crying. My arms are flailing around the room in the chaotic dance they never fail to do when I get upset. Walking across the short distance of the room, Cal wraps me in a bear-tight hold and kisses the side of my head.

“What about this bone marrow transplant? Why can’t you do that?” Callum asks Dr. Hill, and I lift my head from his chest, waiting for an answer.

“Of course we can, but first, we need to find a viable donor, and that can take time. I will put his information into the national database today and see if there are any donors whose HLA is a match.”

“HLA? What the hell is that?” Callum asks, and I’m thankful he did because I can’t for the life of me remember what the abbreviation means.

“Human leukocyte-associated (HLA) antigens are the proteins on the surface of our cells. The set of proteins called the HLA type is identified by a special blood test. Most matches aren’t usually more than a twenty-five to thirty-five percent perfect match unless the patient has a biological twin sibling, which, as you know, Carson does not.”

“And people just donate these cells?

“No. You can’t donate the cells alone, but you can donate the marrow in the bone that contains the cells needed.”

“Okay, well sign me up. Ill donate. Whatever it takes to get him well,” Callum states seriously. I could never have imagined I would hear those words come from his mouth. It is a no brainer for me to donate. I mean, Carson is my little brother. Hell, I have raised him as my own for the last five years. I would give my heart if it meant that he got the chance to live a pain-free life, but I never expected Callum to feel the same way.

“It’s not that simple. We would need to test you and see if you are a match before we are able to start the donation process. The test is simple, just a swab of the inside of your cheek, but I must caution you. The recovery process after the donation procedure can be strenuous. You may not be able to play ball.”

“Do I look like I give two fucks about playing ball right now? You said it perfectly. I play ball. This is his life. I want to be tested, and if I am a match, I want to donate immediately.”

“I understand, Mr. Johnson. I will get the test kit sent up as soon as possible.”

“Make sure they bring two. I want to be tested as well.”

“No.” Callum states, and I pull out of his arms and round on him, ready to fight to the death if he tries to stand in my way of helping Carson.

“I’m sorry, Miss Hart, but your condition won’t allow us to use you as a donor even if you are a match.”

“My condition?” I ask, stupefied.

“The pregnancy, ma’am.”

“Oh, I see,” I state. I can’t believe it’s come to this. Even if I wanted to donate, I wouldn’t be allowed to because of the baby growing in my womb. How is anyone supposed to make that kind of choice, or worse, live with the guilt of knowing that I might have been able to help if I weren’t pregnant?

How do you put one child’s life’s worth above another?

“I’ll get the kit sent up for your test, Mr. Johnson, and give you all a few moments to talk. I know this is a lot to process. I suggest making a list of any questions that arise, and then we can sit down and go over everything later. In the meantime, I want you to know that we are going to do everything in our power here at the hospital to make Carson comfortable.”

“Thank you, Dr. Hill. I appreciate it.” My voice cracks, betraying the emotion flowing through me right now. I don’t know how to process any of this.

“I’m going to go too,” Margaret whispers as she moves to follow the doctor out of the room.

“Go? Go where?”

“I just think it would be best if I stepped back and let you handle this. I mean, you have been here before and at least know what to expect.”

“Yeah, you’re right, Mother. I know exactly what to expect. I expect that beautiful little boy’s mother to want to be by his side while he his scared and in pain. I expect his mother to throw up her hand and demand to be tested as a possible match. I expect you to stay, but I can see now that I am sorely mistaken when I EXPECT any of those things from you. Get out of my sight. I never want to see you again.”

She doesn’t even reply, instead choosing to run from the room as soon as I am done yelling. I have never been more disgusted with her than I am right this second. I am ashamed to call her my mother. I am ashamed even to share the same blood as her.

I hate her.

“What a fucking bitch,” Callum says with as much disgust as I feel.

“Yeah. Listen, Cal, it would probably be best if you went on home too.”

“What? I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“Yes, you are. I don’t have the energy to argue with you right now. I want to be alone with Carson. Please, Cal. Just go.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re pushing me away again. After everything that we have been through?”

“Just go, Cal. Please.”

“No. I’m not fucking leaving you. You can’t ask me to do this. Fuck, Amelia, you need me. You’re barely able to handle yourself right now. Hell, you’re supposed to be on bedrest.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t know my own damn body, Cal? I can promise you . . . I do, and right now, I know that I need to be alone. I know that if you stay, it won’t help me at all. I’m asking you nicely to go. Give me what I know I need, and maybe when my brain is done processing all this, I will call you, and we can talk.”

“You’ll call me? You will fucking call me? Are you serious right now? Have the last two days meant nothing to you?”

“Cal, go, or I will have the staff call security up here. I don’t want you here right now.”

“Fine,” he says, slamming the door behind him on the way out.