Awakening to Life Read online

  He lifts me in a cradle position, his touch as light as he can manage while supporting my weight. He’s too old for this. Well, I’m too old for this, too heavy for him to carry. But my dad turns into superman when I’m sick. He is everywhere, organising whatever has to be done. He still remembers to send birthday cards to distant relatives when everyone else is freaking out over my latest operation.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I whisper as he places me carefully into the back of the car. My head rests on Jayden’s lap, Mum and Josh rush to the other car to follow us.

  “Just stay strong, Allie,” he murmurs.

  He drives with both arms rigidly straight on the wheel, his back pressed against the seat. Jayden strokes my hair. It sticks to my sweaty forehead and I would be embarrassed, but every bump or change of surface grinds my nerve endings. I feel like I will explode. Is this what dying feels like? Will the pain be the last thought on my mind?

  Chapter 8

  My breathing is shallow and my chest tight as I sit in Dr. Marsden’s office. The wind blows lightly through the open window and the sunlight pours in, basking his desk in light. It is the morning after my most recent collapse. My arms ache from the drugs injected into them the day before. The nurse must’ve had difficulty finding a vein.

  I watch the small ornamental fountain on Dr. Marsden’s bookshelf, sitting beside a pile of medical journals. The water sparkles in the light. It’s strangely fascinating, almost succeeding in distracting me from the aching in my hip. I sit is a softly cushioned chair. It is brown and quite low to the ground. It is placed in the middle of the room, opposite Dr. Marsden’s desk and between two other chairs, currently occupied by my parents. It feels like they’re either guarding me, or restraining me. I can’t figure it out. Not that I care. I feel empty.

  When Dr. Marsden finally walks in, he doesn’t have his trademark bubbly smile on his face. Dad reaches over and squeezes my hand. His grip is so tight it hurts, but I don’t say anything. When Dr. Marsden sits at his desk the light pools around him. It is ethereal, like the angels in movies or on television. The light flatters him; the silhouette erases the details of his appearance. But when he speaks, I remember that he is just a tired man, forced to rush into work for every emergency.

  “How are you feeling, Allie?” he asks gently.

  My heart melts. I realise I’ve been scowling and wipe the expression from my face. I duck my head and my long brown hair cascades over my eyes. He’s been especially kind. A lot of the other doctors were impatient or just too formal and professional. I resolve to write Dr. Marsden a letter before I die. Something that will express my appreciation. I would never be able to say it to his face. The speech at assembly was hard enough.

  “I’m okay,” I mumble.

  “And how bad is it, from zero to ten?” he asks.

  I pause. “Seven.”

  I see him nod from behind the thin layer of hair. He raises a pen and writes a note. “We’ll get you something to alleviate the pain.”

  “Well… you gave us quite a scare yesterday.” He tries to smile, but the edges of his lips are downturned. It’s his first attempt at joviality today. “I’ve re-evaluated your options. There’s a new clinical trial beginning in this hospital and you are eligible. The drug may send you into remission. It could give you a few more years. As always, it’s no permanent solution… but if you want to keep fighting, this is your chance. And you won’t need to travel for the trial.”

  Another chance.

  Another chance at life.

  I’ve had chemo and transplants, bits cut out of me and a stream of drugs that just made me sicker. Dad’s grip on my hand gets even tighter and I grip the armrest with my other hand. I blink slowly, closing my eyes for a few seconds, then reopening them. I feel dizzy and my stomach is heavy. This is the one thing I did not expect. I’d given up hope on living, on graduating high school and getting a job. I thought I’d never see Josh grow up. Never get to travel or learn to drive.

  I push my hair behind my ear and exhale loudly. A feeling of hope engulfs me before I can stop myself. The dreams come streaming in, as if they were there all along. Mum makes a sound, part gasp and part whimper.

  “What are the negatives?” Dad asks, his voice rushed.

  “It may not work. It may be that you come into the hospital every few days, and even after that time it may not improve your condition. I know you want to spend more time at home, but that won’t be possible if you chose to do this. Also, you may not even receive the treatment. In any trial, there are two groups: the experimental group, which takes the drug, and a control group, which does not. The control group will be made to think they’re receiving the treatment. You may be in the latter. And then there are the side effects of the drug. It could result in loss of vision, multi-organ failure or paralysis. It could kill you.”

  He pauses for a moment to let us digest the sudden influx of information. Then he continues, “We have, however, had successes in cases like yours. This could be your miracle Allie. I wouldn’t propose it if I thought it was anything less.”

  It was too good to be true.

  All those side-effects… and I may not even receive the drug. It could waste the last few months of my life. Besides, I had already accepted the fact that I was going to die very soon. I was okay with it.

  But then, will my family have to wonder for the rest of their lives whether it could have helped me, whether we made a mistake not to try it. Maybe I could have more time. But I don’t want to die in a hospital bed or on an operating table. I want to spend every last possible second with my family and friends, not the hospital staff.

  Time.

  I need more time.

  The eyes of every adult in the room hem me in. I am trapped. Do they expect a quick decision? Maybe they think this will be easy for me. An obvious choice.

  Is it?

  I don’t know, and I can’t seem to think straight.

  “I have to think,” I say quickly, rising and shaking off Dad’s hand. I stride across the room in three massive steps and then stop. “Excuse me.”

  I leave the room and pause again once the door closes behind me. Where should I hide? Making a decision, I walk hastily through the corridors. I don’t want to be caught running, but I don’t want my parents to find me just yet either.

  A minute later I knock lightly on the door and, when I hear his voice, I walk in, only then considering the wisdom of my hasty decision. Paul rocks backward in the bed and stares. I close the door lightly and stand in the doorway.

  “What are you doing here?” he blurts out as I open my mouth.

  “I’m hiding,” I say.

  He closes the book in his lap and moves it to a side table. He props his body up against the pillows so he’s upright. I walk forward and perch on the chair at his side, wincing at the movement.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, turning his body to face me and tucking his elbows into his sides.

  I shrug. “The usual. Just needed to get away.”

  I swallow and wet my lips. There is a thickness in my throat as I try to find the words. “Paul, I’m sorry I ran out on you. Please don’t be mad anymore.”

  “No.” His voice is firm and determined. “I’m sorry, Allie. I shouldn’t have been so mad or avoided you. I was jealous. You’re my best friend and I miss you. Can we just go back to that?”

  I laugh. “Of course! Of course we can!” I lean forward and hug him. He pulls me in and I crawl onto the bed, sitting beside him.

  “So we’re back to best friend status?” he asks teasingly.

  “Sure are!”

  “Good. So do you want to tell me what’s really wrong?”

  I wince, staring down at my empty hands. I think about changing the subject, but I need to decide. When my parents find me, they’ll have a million and one things to say on the subject. Dad will have talked throu
gh the technicalities with Dr. Marsden by now. He will have made a decision.

  So I spill. The whole story. When I finish, I collapse against his chest and lean my head on his shoulder. He takes a deep breath.

  “Allie, you know how I got better for a while? Well, I was in the clinical trial. I mean, I still am – it just isn’t really helping much anymore. My liver isn’t really holding up…”

  I stare blankly at him. “What?” I feel like I’ve been slammed into a concrete wall. My hands start trembling. I feel like throwing up. He is paler than last time I saw him, off-colour almost. He is thinner and his eyes are dull.

  “No. You can’t be sick. Oh, oh my God,” I moan. “Liver failure? Your liver is shutting down?”

  Paul’s eyes tighten and he takes my hand in his. I gasp. “No! No. Shit, Paul! Does that mean — Dr. Marsden said something about multi-organ failure. And your liver...”

  I choke on the words. Mucus runs from the back of my nose into my throat, making it hard to swallow. Tears well in my eyes, but I blink rapidly.

  “It looks like my other organs are holding up. They changed my dosage… but I need a transplant.”

  The tears spill over and I start crying hard. My vision blurs and I rub my eyes over and over in an attempt to see.

  “Well, that’s okay. We’ll get you a transplant and you’ll be just fine,” I say forcefully. He nods, though it’s clear to both of us that it’s more for my sake than in agreement. I’m not stupid. I know the chances of getting a transplant in time are never great. I just don’t want to admit it to myself just yet by saying anything out loud.

  “Oh, Paul…” I sob.

  “Hey,” he lifts my face to meet his eyes, “that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. With every patient, the treatment gets better. Besides, some of them are at home and healthy already – I’ve seen it. You could be one of them, Allie! You should try. You should take this chance.”

  I try to reply, “I don’t–”

  The door opens behind me and Paul’s eyes look to the person who just entered. He removes his hands from my face. I wipe the tears away and turn, still crying softly.

  “We’re all waiting for you in your room, Allie. Do you want to come now, or do you want to hide out here for a bit longer?”

  I smooth my hands over the wrinkled bed sheet and suck in a deep breath. There is a strong sinking feeling in my stomach.

  “We don’t have to make a decision just yet, Allie. We don’t even need to talk about it right now.”

  I nod slowly. “Okay,” I croak.

  Paul squeezes my hand as I stumble from the bed. I lean over and hug him, holding him tight. The tears almost threaten to overwhelm me again, just as they’d slowed to a stop. He reaches behind me and I hear the rip of a tissue being pulled from its box. When I pull away, he hands it to me and I blow my nose, grabbing another tissue to wipe my face.

  “Remember what I said, Allie. It’s your choice, but don’t be afraid because of me.” He smiles sadly.

  The sheets crinkle as I stand and walk towards Dad. With one last look at Paul, I shuffle from the room.

  “How are you doing, baby girl?” Dad asks as we weave through the corridors. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking I’ll do it. I’ll do the trial.”

  Chapter 9

  “Arrgghh!” I groan miserably. “I’m not getting any better at this game, Paul! Can we please play something else? Please?”

  Thank God we were playing with fake money again. I don’t think my parents would be very happy if I blew their savings playing poker.

  “Hey!” Paul grins. “I’m sitting here, up to my neck in whatever drug they’re topping me up with, and you’re not doing a very good job of distracting me.”

  I punch him lightly in the arm. “Oh yeah – like you did such a good job distracting me!” I reply.

  “Well, a man’s gotta eat, Allie. I did offer you some…”

  “Nobody eats chocolate and chips together, Paul. That’s just disgusting! You get all the salt and vinegar flavouring all over the chocolate.”

  He rolls his eyes and gives up on arguing with me, collecting the cards into a neat pile instead.

  “I’m bored, Allie.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m bored-er. I’ve already had mine, maybe I should just–” I start to get up. Paul looks away from the cards, eyes drawn upwards by the sudden movement. Wrinkles form on his forehead.

  “You’re going?” he asks with sad, puppy dog eyes.

  “Yeah. I mean, if you’re going to make me play a game that I don’t like, complain about being bored, and not even get some proper food for us both when you ditch me for the cafeteria…” I say, trailing off at the end.

  “Don’t go, Allie!” he begs, grabbing my arm and holding onto it for dear life. “I promise not to ditch you again, and we can play whatever game you want… And, I’ll stop complaining.”

  I giggle, efficiently destroying the act. His eyes narrow and he frowns. “Oh,” he mutters darkly. “So that’s how you want to play it? Fine. You know, I did have insider’s information that you might have been interested in… But I can’t seem to remember exactly what Jayden was saying–”

  “Jayden?” I ask. My breath catches. “You talked to Jayden? When? About what?”

  “Hmmmm… Well…” He extends every letter, intensifying the suspense with each extra second he wastes.

  “Come on, Paul! Please tell me? I promise to go get you some chips and chocolates next time you’re confined to your bed with nothing but mush for meals.”

  “Is that all this information is worth?” he asks, mock outraged by my offer. “What else, Allie?”

  “Fine.” I strain my mind, trying desperately to think of something else. Finally, I give up and turn to Paul impatiently. “I can’t think of anything! Can’t we just put it down as an ‘I owe you’?”

  He chuckles, cocking his head. “Okay. Remember this moment, for I will definitely call you up on it.”

  Paul glances up at the clock and rearranges himself in the bed. He fiddles with the deck of cards before placing them delicately in the pocket of his jacket, which is slung over the head of the hospital bed. When he begins to punch his pillow into shape, I lose all patience.

  “Tell me!” I demand.

  “Spoilt snob is not a great look on you, Allie,” he teases. He sighs dramatically. My lips remain defiantly downturned. “Fine. So after you left the other day and went to talk to your family, to discuss your choice with Dr. Marsden, Jayden came in here to have a man-to-man chat before he left.”

  I roll my eyes at the last part, losing the act of anger and sitting down to listen.

  He continues, uninterrupted. “He wanted to know about the clinical trial. I told him everything I knew. Then we talked about you – how you’re doing health-wise, how you’re holding up emotionally, how we can help you… We decided that you are doing pretty well, and the trial will cure you of cancer completely. We also decided that you’re going to have plenty of fun while you still have cancer, because when you go back to school it will be all work to catch up on. That will keep your mind off the bad stuff, and that will sustain you emotionally.”

  “Wow,” I remark when he finishes. “How long was your heart-to-heart?”

  “About half an hour… He had to leave when Kelly arrived.”

  “Who’s Kelly?” I ask curiously, straining my brain for any familiarity with the name.

  “My shrink. You’ve probably seen her around… Korean lady? Gives lollipops to the little ones?” I blush, shaking my head but otherwise unsure how to respond. “Hey, you don’t have to be embarrassed for me, Allie…”

  “What do you talk about?” I ask hesitantly.

  “Dying. Being helpless all the time. Basically, I complain and she tells me to stay positive,” he says smirking.

&n
bsp; “Oh God! Paul, I’m so, so sorry. You don’t deserve this.”

  He actually starts to laugh. It’s bitter, and slightly forced, but it stems from genuine amusement. “Oh, and what have you done to deserve it, Allie? Something you want to confess to?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows at me and making me laugh for real until I’m caught in the middle of a half-laughing, half-sobbing sound.

  That’s when Nurse Rachel decides to walk in. I practically fall out of my chair in an attempt to get out her way so that she can disconnect the drip.

  “All done, honey!” she calls cheerfully as she pulls the needle firmly out of Paul’s arm and wheels back the stand so that he has plenty of room to get up. He needs some assistance, but it is not so bad that I can’t help out. He leans heavily on my shoulder until I help lower him into the wheel chair.