Chapter Twenty-Four
’Twas the night before Surgery, when all through the penthouse…
It was Surgery Eve. Mom, Mr. Cooper, Quinn, Hana, Craig, Jason, and I were gathered in a circle in front of the gas fireplace in the living room. We’d all gone out to dinner, with Barb and Dad, too, though they were now back at their hotel for the night. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as weird as I would have imagined having Mom, Dad, and Barb eating together at the same table. I guess cancer really puts people on their best behavior.
Two points for cancer?
The little lights of the big city twinkled through the windows. I wondered how many other people like me were out there, people knowingly on the verge of everything changing. How many surgeries were scheduled every day? How many people would wake up the next morning and learn their lives had been flipped upside-down for good or bad? And what about the other people? Those whose lives wouldn’t significantly change tomorrow, people simply sitting in front of the TV, waiting to get up for another ordinary day, never even considering how incredibly awesome their legs were.
Everyone in our circle was in their pajamas, except me. I wore a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt Quinn and Hana had made for me. On the front, it had a cartoon version of the three of us holding hands, each with a different cute animal on our heads—a bunny, a bird, and a hedgehog. So cute.
“Okay, Hana, you’re a talented artist, I think you should start,” Mom instructed, handing Hana a green marker and pointing to my leg.
On my left thigh, Hana drew a funny, smiley femur-bone character doing a happy jig.
Quinn took a red marker and added a big heart on my leg, writing inside the heart the words: We love you, Dr. Ray.
“Ah, that tickles,” I said, as the marker made smooth wet loops on my leg. I hoped Dr. Ray would at least get a smile out of all the messages to him, and not be annoyed by the visuals on his surgery site.
Craig leaned over to my right leg. He drew a big X on my thigh and then wrote in big block letters: Not this leg. We all laughed. Mom took the red marker and added, Take extra special care of this one, and drew smiley faces and stars all around it.
Mr. Cooper took a blue marker to my calf and drew a little sailboat with words trailing behind like waves that read, Bon voyage, cancer.
“Good one, Michael.” Mom patted him on the back. He smiled at her. It was quick, but I caught it—their eyes sharing this moment of understanding. I had to turn away, not wanting to think too much more about what it must be like for them.
Jason grabbed the black marker. He covered his work with his other hand as he drew for a while. “What are you putting on there that’s so involved?” I asked.
“Wait for it.” He switched to the red marker, then green, then blue, adding more and more. “There.” He finally finished and revealed his handiwork. He’d written, Pimp my leg, in funky letters with a picture of a leg with all these added gadgets—tires, speakers, springs, and a bucket labeled Magic Healing Dust.
I loved it and gave Jason a smile saying so.
Mom covertly wiped away a tear as she put the markers away. Then she put a too-big smile on her face and clapped her hands together. “I have an idea. Let’s all put a hand on Ellie’s leg and one by one say a prayer, or something we wish for her.”
I sucked in air. Don’t know about that. But I wasn’t in the place for objections so I stayed silent.
Hana turned off the overhead lights so that only the firelight was around us. They all inched in closer to me, placing their hands on my legs. A rush of warmth whirled through my body.
Mr. Cooper started. “Ellie, I’m so thankful for the happiness you’ve brought to my son’s life. I’m proud of how you’re handling your battle.” I smiled at him. He was so kind to be here. “I wish you a speedy and full recovery.”
I bit the inside of my cheeks and stretched my eyes wide to keep them dry. They are turning me into mush. An extremely-well-loved pile of mush.
Quinn was next in the circle. “I pray you kick some cancer ass tomorrow. You are my hero, and I love you so much.” She kissed me on the cheek.
Craig took a moment to think, then looked at me. “Hands down, the best thing that came out of my mom remarrying and abandoning me is you. I’m thankful to call you sister, and that you’ll finally let me call you that without hitting me or yelling at me.” I laughed. “I need you to heal up fast so you can get back to sharing cereal and anime with me, and letting me torture you with my music.”
My eyes were a glassy haze of tears now. I leaned in and gave Craig a kiss on the cheek and whispered, “Thanks, bro. I’ll do my best for you.” I wiped my face with the cuffs of my new sweatshirt.
Hana was next. She held my hand and looked straight into my eyes. “Ellie, I’ve really admired your calm these last few days. I would say I pray for you to heal well and for everything to go smoothly tomorrow, but I don’t need to pray. I just know. I know you will defeat the odds.” She dropped my hand and gave me a huge, gripping hug.
The love around me blazed warmer than the fire. A determined part of me believed this darkness and pain and cancer couldn’t possibly stand a chance against the force of my family and friends.
Jason put his hands on my legs and leaned in, speaking quietly. “I am so thankful I walked onto that stage and into that scene with you.” I made a face, thinking of our start together. “Seriously, Ellie. Um…” He paused and took a deep breath. “You think this cancer has been a burden on everyone, but for me… it’s been…” He trailed off. Took another breath. “I’m not feeling as eloquent as everyone else.” He held my hand. “I’m just looking forward to when you’re onstage again, or on your bicycle, shocking all the doctors with your mad rotation skills like you never had titanium plates in your leg.” He leaned in even closer and gave me a melty, wonderful kiss.
Everyone whistled or awwed for a second.
Jason sat back in his spot in the circle, and I let out a quiet laugh. I hoped they were right in their optimism, but I was still scared. The reality was that even with one of the top surgeons in the country, this procedure had only been done five times—and that was only counting procedures similar to this one. Counting procedures exactly like mine, I’d be the first.
I remembered what Gary said about fearlessness not being the absence of fear, but going forward, anyway. I wanted to say something poetic and meaningful back. To tell them each how grateful I was and how much they meant to me, but all I was able to get out was a shaky “thank you.”
Mom put her hand on my shoulder. “You are the light of my life, sweet Ellie. Know that all your guardian angels will be by your side tomorrow, okay?” Her breath was uneven and she was having trouble getting the words out. “I know you will get through this and soon be on to all the big, beautiful things that await you in this life.”
Closing my eyes, I tried to make an imprint of this moment in my mind. Hopes, fears, they didn’t matter—I was ready to face tomorrow.