Why do I sound so weird? I think. My voice is gruff as if I’ve been out partying all night and I’m hungover. This small talk is torture. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Kayla looking at me with her head tilted a little to one side and her forehead wrinkled as if to ask, ‘What the hell are you saying, Mam?’
‘Is it okay if I take a little blood, Kayla?’ the nurse asks, as she walks towards some drawers at the side of the room that I hadn’t noticed before.
Kayla’s neck elongates and her expression changes drastically. I try to reassure her with a wide smile, but I feel like such a fraud. I’m as caught off guard as she is. It’s not my veins getting a needle, but I wish it was.
‘Mam?’ Kayla whispers.
‘She had bloods taken in Cork last week,’ I say.
‘I’m sorry, Kayla,’ the nurse says, looking genuinely regretful. ‘I really do need to take some before your operation.’
‘It’s just a quick prick,’ I add, meeting Kayla’s beautiful blue, unsure eyes with mine. ‘Kind of a sting, but over before you know it.’
‘Do you want your mam to sit beside you, Kayla?’ the nurse asks as she rummages in the drawer.
‘Yeah,’ Kayla nods.
Tears prick the corners of my eyes. Why didn’t I think of that? Of course, I should be beside her. Of course I should.
I walk over to the hospital bed, which is much higher than a normal bed. Kayla uncrosses her legs and slides over until she’s pressed right up against the wall and I know the uncomfortable position is more about getting away from the nurse than making room for me.
The nurse looks at Kayla and then me. I shoot her a look that says, ‘Just give us a moment?’ and she smiles at me knowingly and pretends to be distracted with something in the drawer. I realise she must see this every day; parents having to coax scared children away from the wall, but I wonder if the nurse knows that the parents are probably just as scared. I never realised how goddamn terrifying something as simple as a blood test is until this very moment. It’s not the needle, of course, and I know that’s not what’s bothering Kayla either. It’s what the needle represents. It’s that start of a journey none of us want to be on. Poking and prodding and operations and nights in hospital.
‘C’mere, Kayla,’ I say stretching my arm out to her and waiting for her to take my hand. ‘It’ll be easier if you’re sitting up.’
Kayla shakes her head and I can feel pressure in my chest as if something horribly heavy is sitting on my heart, crushing it.
‘Trust me,’ I say.
Kayla doesn’t budge. I can hear the nurse close the drawer and I hope she doesn’t say anything. Not yet. I really want Kayla to take this step for herself and not because she feels pressured into it. God knows, I feel enough pressure for the both of us.
‘You know what?’ the nurse asks. ‘This is all a bit sudden, Kayla, isn’t it? I think I should give you and your mam some time alone. Maybe some time to try on those lovely fluffy socks would be good, wouldn’t it? I’ll come back later.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, looking down at the comfy socks I didn’t realise I was squeezing so tightly my knuckles are white.
‘No,’ Kayla says, sitting up and shuffling over to the edge of the bed while rolling up her sleeve. ‘Let’s just get this over with.’
I nod and smile at Kayla, proud. And, maybe a little confused. Then, I nod at the nurse. She nods back. I had no idea there would be this much nodding involved in Kayla coming into hospital. I wonder if gestures are easier than words when your whole life is turned upside down. But, as my legs wobble and my tummy is a single rumble away from throwing up in the bright-yellow bin behind the door, I realise: nothing is easy when your child is this sick. Gestures. Words. Eating. Functioning. They all go out the window.
‘Ready, Mam?’ Kayla says, her wide eyes searching mine for answers I don’t have.
‘Yeah,’ I say, pulling myself straight as if I have the confidence of Goliath. ‘Let’s do this.’
I drape my arm over Kayla’s shoulder as I lower myself to sit on the bed beside her. It’s bouncier than I was expecting and Kayla giggles when I almost fall off. Getting my balance, l smile and kiss the top of her head. The smell of coconut shampoo from her golden hair smacks against my nose.
‘You smell great, kiddo,’ I say, choking back tears.
‘Like holidays,’ Kay replies and I instantly think of the coconut sun cream I’m obsessed with slathering us in every time we go abroad. Factor 50 million, because our Irish skin burns easily, and those cancer warnings are all over the news and radio ads. ‘Tanned skin is damaged skin,’ they warn. But no one warned us about this.
To hell with sun cream, I think, staring at a mural of Baloo on the wall opposite Kayla. My God that thing is scary. It’s teeth are huge; painted oddly out of proportion with the rest of its body. I doubt it bothers Kayla much but I can only imagine that a small child would be terrified by a big grey bear ready to pounce off the wall to eat them while they sleep. Maybe I should say something?
‘That’s a girl, Kayla,’ the nurse says before poking her tongue between her teeth as her eyes squint with concentration. ‘You’re doing great.’
I hold my breath, wishing the nurse was stabbing the needle into me instead. And, when Kayla gasps and snuggles her head into the crook of my neck the way she did when she was a baby, my heart feels as if it drops from my chest and sinks into the pit of my stomach to weigh heavy there.
I compose myself quickly, afraid that Kayla will pick up on my fears. I watch as the nurse draws crimson blood into a vial. Kayla doesn’t budge.
‘So, did Aiden have any news?’ I ask, my fingertips stroking her hair.
Kayla lifts her head off my shoulder and turns to stare at me. She shakes her head. ‘No. I’m pretty sure I’m the one with all the news.’ She narrows her eyes and adds a sarcastic air quote with her free hand. I know her snappiness isn’t directed at me, but it still stings.
‘Did you tell Aiden?’ I ask.
‘Yeah.’
‘And?’
‘And what?’ Kayla snaps again.
‘And, what did he say?’
Kayla shrugs.
‘Okay all done,’ the nurse says, securing a ball of cotton wool against Kayla’s arm with some white surgical tape.
‘Really?’ Kayla smiles.
‘See that wasn’t so bad, was it?’ she says.
The nurse makes her way over to the drawer again and my attention drops to the vials of dark blood resting on a metal tray with a mint surgical cloth draped across it.
‘This is for you,’ the nurse says, pulling a bright-purple lollipop out of the drawer that seems to have everything. ‘I know you’re probably too grown-up for lollies, but these blackcurrant ones are delicious and a little sugar after giving blood will make sure you don’t go all dizzy on me.’
Kayla looks at the lollipop, uncertain, and I think she might cry.
‘Would you prefer lemon?’ the nurse asks. ‘The strawberry ones are all gone, I’m afraid.’
‘Blackcurrant is good,’ Kayla says, composing herself and taking the lollipop. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re very brave, Kayla,’ I say. ‘Well done.’
Kayla slides the wrapper off the lollipop. ‘Sorry for biting your head off,’ she says, before popping the lollipop in her mouth.
I don’t reply, I just kiss the top of her head reassuringly.
‘I’m going to get these off to the lab,’ the nurse explains, lifting the tray. ‘And the doctor will be in to see you soon.’
The nurse isn’t wrong because as she walks out the door Doctor Patterson walks in. They stop for a chat in the middle and the nurse walks all the way out the door and the doctor walks all the way in. It all seems to play out in slow motion.
‘Kayla. Heather.’ The doctor nods, looking at each of us in turn. ‘How are you?’
Kayla looks away and I groan inwardly, and I wonder if that answers his question.
‘Did I tell
you I used to play basketball myself when I was younger?’ the doctor says sitting into the uncomfortable-looking plastic chair next to Kayla’s bed.
‘Nothing as cool as on my school team, mind you. In fact, I wasn’t very good at all,’ he says. ‘But, I tried. That’s all that matters, right?’
I’m not sure what the doctor is expecting Kayla to say but I see her smile while crossing her legs to get comfortable. I breathe a sigh of relief.
‘Yeah, trying is really important,’ Kayla says. ‘I wasn’t great when I was little. But I kept practising and last year I got made captain.’
Kayla and the doctor chat effortlessly about shooting hoops and dribbling and who their favourite player is and I sit back down on the bed and listen, joining in only very occasionally because it’s just so lovely to listen to Kayla talk about something without the wobble of fear that crept into her voice last night when Gavin and I told her how sick she was.
Time flies by as the three of us chat. And, after half an hour, maybe more, I wonder when Doctor Patterson is going take on a sudden seriousness and start talking about surgery and medication. I find myself fidgeting and staring at the cartoon characters on the wall wondering if somebody, someday, is going to paint a new head for Wendy. The sound of Kayla’s girly giggles grabs my attention. The doctor laughs too. I wonder what’s so funny and I wish I’d been listening.
‘Right,’ the doctor says, standing up as he looks at his watch. ‘I’d best be off. My lunch break was over ten minutes ago.’
‘You’re on your break?’ I ask.
‘I was,’ he smiles. ‘I should be back downstairs by now, but I was enjoying talking about my glory days so much.’
‘Will you be back later?’ Kayla asks.
He nods. ‘I will. I’m going to check up on those bloods of yours, see what they tell us. I already know you’re an amazing basketball player, let’s see what else I can find out.’
‘Thank you,’ I say.
I can’t quite believe he sat with us when he should have been enjoying lunch with his colleagues in the canteen. And I realise that it isn’t what Doctor Patterson does with a stethoscope or blood pressure monitor that makes him a great doctor; it’s how at ease he puts his patients. He’s such a lovely person, I swoon, blushing when I realise I’m staring at him and his gorgeous hazel eyes.
‘Bye, Kayla,’ he says, winking. ‘Take care of your mam and I’ll see you both later.’
‘Byeeee.’ Kayla grins. ‘See you later.’
‘Goodbye, Heather,’ he says, placing his hand gently on my shoulder.
Fifteen
Heather
‘Oh my God.’ Kayla laughs as soon as the doctor walks out. ‘Could you have made that any more obvious?’
‘Made what obvious?’ I ask, knowing exactly where Kayla is going with this. I will my embarrassed cheeks to cool down. My face is actually stinging.
‘Can’t say I blame you.’ Kayla smirks. ‘I mean he is actually gorgeous, isn’t he?’
‘Kayla,’ I say, pretending to be shocked.
‘Oh c’mon. I saw the way you looked at him.’
‘I looked at him like he’s your doctor and I appreciate his time,’ I nod. ‘That’s all.’
‘Oh. My. God. You’re so full of it.’ Kayla is laughing so hard she snorts, which makes her laugh even harder. It’s quite hard to keep a straight face. ‘You looked at him like you fancy the pants off him. You do, don’t you?’
‘Kayla,’ I say.
‘Ah, c’mon, Mam. Admit it. You’ve a thing for my doctor.’
‘He’s a good-looking guy, yes, but—’
‘But nothing. He’s hot and you fancy him. Wow. I’ve never really seen you fancy someone before,’ Kayla says, and I pull a face realising she’s right and I wonder if that’s a good thing or if it’s a little depressing. ‘You know your face went super red when you were talking to him, right?’ Kayla tells me.
‘It’s hot in here,’ I say.
‘Yeah. Hot like Doctor Hot.’ Kayla crosses her hands across her heart and pouts her lips dramatically.
‘Okay. That’s enough now,’ I say, my face stinging more than ever.
‘Ah, Mam,’ Kayla says, sounding disappointed. ‘I’m only having a laugh.’
‘I know, sweetheart.’ I smile. ‘I know.
I walk towards the window, wishing it opened so I could get some fresh air. But I take a deep breath anyway and the unnatural smell of hospital fills my lungs.
I turn around and look at Kayla. She’s sitting cross-legged on the bed with a monster grin on her face and her eyes are sparkling with giddiness. She doesn’t look sick at all. She just looks like Kayla. My beautiful Kayla full of fun and life and silliness. It’s hard to believe there’s a disease inside her trying to cause so much damage.
‘Where did you put that lollipop?’ I ask. ‘We don’t want it to get stuck in your hair.’
I flinch, as Kayla runs her hand over her hair and I wonder if she’s thinking about when she might lose it. Because it’s what I’m thinking about. I really need to learn to watch what I say. God, this is hard.
‘It was gross and all sticky so I wrapped it in some paper and Doctor Patterson put it in the bin for me.’
‘He did?’
‘Yeah.’ Kayla narrows her eyes. ‘Didn’t you notice? The bin was right behind you.’
I shake my head, feeling so overwhelmed.
‘So, are you going to ask him out?’ Kayla asks.
‘What?’ My eyes shoot wide open. ‘No. God. No.’
‘Why not?’ Kayla says. ‘Don’t be nervous.’
‘I’m not nervous. He’s your doctor.’
‘Yeah, and—’
‘And it would be highly inappropriate,’ I say. ‘Okay, seriously, can we please talk about something else?’
Kayla folds her arms. ‘Fine. But I think you’re being a big chicken.’
‘You’re entitled to your opinion, but—’
There’s a gentle knock on the door and it creaks open slowly. ‘Sorry,’ Doctor Patterson says, appearing in the gap. ‘I forgot my phone.’
I glance at the chair he’d been sitting in and his phone is resting in the middle, face down. An awkward silence falls over us as I stare at Kayla and hope to God he didn’t over hear us.
He takes the phone, stuffs it into an inside pocket on his pristine white coat and smiles. ‘You’ve gone very quiet suddenly, Kayla,’ he says. ‘Is everything alright?’
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. I hold my breath, praying Kayla doesn’t think it’s funny to say something.
‘Yeah. I’m okay,’ Kayla says. ‘Are we allowed phones in here? There’s a sign in the corridor that says no phones, so I wasn’t sure.’
‘A sign that everybody ignores,’ he says. ‘Of course you can talk to your friends, Kayla. You’d crack up in this place otherwise, wouldn’t you?’
Kayla nods.
‘Do you want to call Aiden back?’ I say.
Kayla nods again.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘I’ll give you some space. I’ll go call your father and get the jammies and chocolate out of the car while you’re busy.’
‘Actually, Heather,’ Doctor Patterson says. ‘Would you mind if I grabbed a quick word before you jump on the phone.’
‘Sure,’ I say.
‘In the corridor,’ he adds, tilting his head towards the door.
I take a deep breath, terrified that whatever Doctor Patterson has to say, he doesn’t want to say in front of Kayla. I don’t think I can cope with much more bad news.
‘I’ll be right outside,’ I reassure Kayla, as Doctor Patterson takes a step back to allow me to pass out the door and into the corridor first.
‘Um-hmm,’ Kayla nods, her attention already passed over to her phone screen.
Doctor Patterson closes Kayla’s door behind us and points towards some waiting chairs lined up against the far wall.
‘Let’s take a seat,’ he says.
I nod, grateful for his sugge
stion as my knees begin to tremble.
Sixteen
Heather
The metal seats are cold and the chill works its way through to my legs, as I sit leaning to one side so I’m more hovering on my hip than resting on my bum. I wonder why most hospital waiting chairs are made with countless tiny holes in the base that press against the cheeks of your backside like a cheese grater digging into a block of Cheddar. I’ve no doubt when I stand up I’ll have an imprint on my backside that will last for hours.
Doctor Patterson sits similarly. He’s turned towards me and I can tell from his pensive expression he’s waiting for the right moment to speak.
‘So,’ he finally says, ‘how you doin’?’
‘Excuse me?’ I allow my full weight to flop onto the cold metal chair. ‘How you doin’?’ I repeat, shaking my head.
Doctor Patterson looks at me blanky.
Friends plays in my mind so vividly I can literally hear the characters talking. ‘How you doin’?’ I hear Joey say. I can’t wait to tell Kayla that Doctor Patterson has used the worst chat-up line in the book. I doubt she’ll think he’s so cool then, but it should give her a laugh, at least.
‘I’m fine thank you. How are you?’ I say.
My God this is awkward.
Doctor Patterson shakes his head. ‘No. I mean how are you really doing? How are you coping?’
‘Oh,’ I say, my smile slipping away. ‘I- I- I-’
Doctor Patterson places his hand on my knee and my eyes fall to his fingers, but I don’t move.
‘This is all happening so quickly. Your head must be spinning,’ he says.
‘Yeah. It is,’ I admit. ‘It’s just Kayla, you know.’ I feel tears swell in my eyes and I beg myself not to cry. ‘She doesn’t get sick. Not really.’
‘It was a pleasure chatting to her earlier,’ Doctor Patterson says, taking his hand off my knee. I instantly miss the warmth. ‘I enjoyed learning about her love of basketball. It was good to hear in her own words and in her own time how the pain started to affect her game.’
‘Oh,’ I say, enlightened. ‘You asked her all about her life to find out about her cancer. That’s clever.’
The Forever Gift Page 8
