Abide With Me. Delia Parr

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Startled, Andrea followed Dr. Newton outside. They sat together on one of the benches. Dr. Newton settled the cat on her lap and stroked the calico’s head, and another cat, a small, dark tiger cat, wove in and out of Andrea’s legs. The doctor chuckled. “I hope you like cats.”

      Andrea leaned down and picked up the tiger cat. Already purring, the cat curled up on Andrea’s lap. “As a matter of fact, I have a few of my own. Three actually,” she murmured, grateful for this added blessing to the day.

      “I thought you might be a cat person.”

      “Only recently,” Andrea admitted. “I wanted a little companionship. With my schedule, having a dog was out of the question. But cats are easier to manage, especially when you get several from the same litter. My brother-in-law is a sales rep for a pet-food company so I get most of what I need for the cats from him. Cats are more independent, too.”

      “Independent? Like you?” the doctor remarked with an raised brow. “Most of my patients prefer to spend the night in the hospital after surgery.”

      Thinking of last year’s surgery, Andrea’s blushed. “You said it could be same-day surgery.”

      “I also said you might want to consider spending the night,” the doctor reminded her. “The tumor was a little more expansive than I originally thought.”

      “My sister Jenny is a nurse. She was able to help,” Andrea countered, hoping the doctor would also remember how well Andrea’s post-op checkup had gone and how well she had continued to be in the months afterward. “She will again. Provided I need help.” She took a deep breath, but she did not stop petting the cat on her lap. “How much help…that is, I’m not quite sure what to expect from the treatments,” she murmured.

      Then she corrected herself. “No, that’s not true. I’ve lost four family members to cancer, and I know what to expect from the chemotherapy. The nausea. The fatigue. The loss of appetite, as well as my hair…” She stopped before her voice broke.

      “What type of cancer?” the doctor asked gently.

      “Breast. Bone. Stomach. Liver. Brain. Take your pick,” Andrea said quietly. “We’re an equal-opportunity host family. Unfortunately, we’re not an equal-opportunity surviving kind of family.”

      Dr. Newton shook her head. “Not all cancers are alike. And not all chemotherapy treatment is the same, either, Andrea. In fact, your chemotherapy will be very different from what you’ve experienced with your family before. Based on the biopsy results and the early stage of your cancer, despite the fact that this is a recurrence, the standard chemotherapy treatment involves coming to my office here to have the drugs injected directly into your bladder via a catheter—with minimal preparation on your part, I should add. After two or three hours at home, you simply void the drugs out of your bladder. You won’t get nauseous and you won’t lose much of your appetite, if any. You probably will experience some fatigue as the treatments progress, but you will definitely not lose your hair, although you might be tempted to continue to keep it very short. Many of the patients complain that their hair gets very coarse and somewhat unmanageable. Now probably wouldn’t be a good time to start to color your hair, though.”

      Andrea knew that her skepticism was etched in every feature of her face, but she couldn’t help it, any more than she could stop herself from reaching up and touching her salt and pepper hair. “That’s it?”

      Dr. Newton chuckled. “Well, let’s not pretend this isn’t serious or life threatening. It can be, Andrea. But in your case, yes, that’s it. Chemotherapy will be once a week for six weeks, then once a month for nine additional months. We’ll monitor your progress very carefully to make sure the chemotherapy is effective and doing its job.”

      Andrea blinked several times, anxious to hold on to this good news just a little longer before this blessing disappeared almost as quickly as it had been given. “There’s bad news, too, isn’t there?”

      “Yes,” Dr. Newton said. “You’ll have to be monitored for the rest of your life. Eventually, that means I’ll only see you once a year. Eventually. But the bad news is that you’re going to be my patient, or someone’s patient, for life. As long as you come for your checkups, the odds are that there’s no reason to believe you’ll have a recurrence or at least one we can’t handle, just like this one.”

      Effective chemotherapy. Recurrence. Odds.

      Andrea had heard those words before—from Daddy, Kathleen, Mother and then Sandra. All of them had lost their battles. Eventually, each had failed to beat the odds. Each had had chemotherapy that ultimately proved ineffective.

      Would Andrea follow this dreadful family tradition, or would she begin a new one called survivor?

      If she should survive and beat cancer, why? Why her? Why not Daddy or Kathleen or Mother or Sandra? Why?

      She shivered and blinked back tears as she whispered silent prayers for courage. She could beat cancer. She could be a survivor. With His grace. According to His will.

      “When…when will we start the chemotherapy?”

      “That depends,” the doctor murmured. “Have you had anything to eat or drink today?”

      Andrea stiffened. “Today? Just some iced tea earlier. About seven.”

      “Then let’s start today. While Nancy gets the chemotherapy ready, I can explain precisely how it’s done. I can also give you a key to the garden. There’s an outer door you can use when you want to come to visit. That’s why the garden is here. For my patients. Feel free to use it anytime.” She checked her watch. “It’s ten-thirty now. By eleven, you can be home. By one-thirty or two o’clock, you can be back at work. Unless you have an appointment between now and then?”

      “No. I cleared my schedule until four. I—I wasn’t sure how long I would be here. Today? Are you sure we have to start today?” she gushed as panic sent her heartbeat into double time. The prospect of being able to start chemotherapy today did appeal to her, but she hadn’t talked to her children or her sisters yet, to tell them about her treatments, nor had she prepared herself for beginning her journey toward recovery today. “What about…the referral for the insurance company? I didn’t bring one today. Maybe—”

      “We’ll take care of that.”

      “Oh. Then…you’re sure? You’re sure we should start today?”

      “Why not? Let’s make today your first day toward full and complete recovery.” The doctor stood up and set the calico cat down on the ground. Within a heartbeat, the tiger cat leaped off of Andrea’s lap and scooted away.

      The doctor held out her hand. “Shall we?”

      By noon, Andrea had been home for half an hour. Her cell phone had been turned off, the machine was answering her home telephone was on, and she’d set the alarm clock, in case she fell asleep. She was lying on her tummy in her bed, watching the clock on her nightstand. “Time to roll, girls,” she murmured to her three cats, who were all in bed with her. Each treatment required that she spend half an hour in four different positions, to ensure the inside of her bladder was coated and treated with the chemo drugs.

      It wasn’t a terrible way to spend a few hours, although resting was not something Andrea often made time to do for herself.

      Unfortunately, СКАЧАТЬ