99 Days With You

by Catherine Miller

  ‘You’re going to love it, mate.’ Rudi’s dad nudged him on his wrist, his spinal injury limiting how high he was able to raise his arm.

  Once they arrived, it didn’t take long for Rudi to get ready. It turned out that he didn’t need the moral support of any of the adults to find the courage to take part. Leanne and Tim were busy filming the whole event so Rudi would always be able to look back on this moment, and the rest of them were watching on from the viewing platform.

  For Nathan, so much of it was reminiscent of the AirFly HQ… the jumpsuits, the set-up, the anticipation in the air. But here there was no need for parachutes or planes.

  The instructor waited for Rudi to step inside the large circular chamber, and as soon as he was inside he was airborne, weighed down by the instructor who guided him through his flight. First there were a couple of rotations, during which Rudi found his balance, and then a thumbs up before the instructor guided them higher.

  The instructor and Rudi looked as if they were flying. Without the usual skydiving attachments, they looked like superheroes. As Nathan was always jumping out of planes, it wasn’t something he had ever done himself, but it appeared to be huge fun. It was joyous seeing what a great time Rudi was having. Maybe, just maybe, thought Nathan, if he wasn’t allowed to skydive any more, this was a job he could do. But thinking like that was dangerous. At the moment, he didn’t want to think beyond today.

  Rudi swooped round and up the tunnel again. With the high-velocity wind pressing on his features as he flew, it was hard to tell if he was absolutely terrified or having the best time of his life.

  ‘That. Was. A-MAZE-ING!’

  If Nathan had been in any doubt, Rudi’s declaration as he came out clarified how he felt about the whole thing. As with Carole’s jump, everyone felt the high. It made Nathan feel warm inside in a way he hadn’t experienced before these past few weeks. These weeks had been the scariest of his life and yet they had made him feel alive – reminding him what was important.

  Once Rudi had hugged his dad and thanked everyone else, he made his way to Nathan.

  ‘When I get to jump out of a plane, can I raise more money for your charity?’

  There weren’t many things that got Nathan right there in the middle of his chest. But that one sentence did. All of a sudden, Nathan was in need of a tissue. The kid wasn’t even a teenager, but he had the insight of someone much older. Nathan was supposed to be helping him out and already he was wanting to be generous in the other direction.

  ‘That’s why we’re setting this up – so people can have unforgettable experiences. It would be a total honour if you decided to do your jump to help raise money for the Everlasting Acts charity,’ Nathan said.

  It wasn’t until later, when he’d returned home with Emma (and there was no running away from her bedroom this time), that it finally caught up with him what a big day it must have been for Rudi. ‘Rudi’s never going to forget this.’

  ‘And he’ll never forget you.’

  Despite what he’d spent a lifetime believing, Nathan really hoped Rudi wouldn’t get the chance to forget him. Maybe there was some fight in him after all.

  Forty-One

  Day Thirty-Four

  Nathan had never done jury service.

  He’d never ordered from every section of the menu.

  He’d never worn odd socks, either by accident or on purpose.

  He’d never managed to get covered from head to toe in mud.

  He’d never eaten an entire block of cheese in one sitting.

  For all he’d tried to live life to the full, it was amazing how quickly the things he hadn’t done were leaping into his head while he sat in the waiting room. With every passing minute he was adding more to the list. He had to hope someone called him in soon, before the list was his very own epidemic. Once he’d started to think of things he hadn’t done, he couldn’t stop, and dozens of other missed opportunities began to pile up.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Emma asked from beside him.

  He wasn’t. But how did you answer that question without making the other person worry even more?

  ‘I just wish they’d hurry up.’ That much was true. He didn’t want to be left any longer with the list that was growing in his head. Emma placed a hand on his knee for reassurance and he took hold of it like it might anchor him. There was a huge part of him that wanted to run away and not even bother with finding out what this appointment had to reveal. It was only Emma who was grounding him.

  ‘Mr Foxdale, would you like to come through?’ Nathan’s specialist nurse asked him.

  It was weird hearing himself being referred to as a mister. It seemed far too grown-up – he wasn’t ready to be a responsible person. That was something people reserved for their thirties. But as he wasn’t expecting to make it there, perhaps the time had come already.

  ‘Do you want me to wait here? Or come in with you?’ Emma asked.

  Nathan wanted her with him. There was no doubt about that. The whole of life seemed easier when she was nearby. ‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘It might make more sense to you.’ Emma was definitely the brighter out of the two of them. If there was jargon he didn’t understand, she would know what they were on about. And, really, he wanted her to hold his hand.

  He was never going to say it out loud, but he was scared in ways he hadn’t known before. Because despite thinking that he already knew what he was going to hear, it didn’t make it any easier.

  When they went into the consulting room, it felt like there was an army of medical staff in there, waiting for their patient. Along with the specialist nurse, Miranda, there were Dr Howson, two other doctors and two trainees. They all introduced themselves but Nathan was too busy counting the number of people to take notice of names.

  ‘Thank you for coming in today,’ Dr Howson said, like they’d popped over for a cuppa and a chat. ‘Are you okay for the medical students to observe the appointment?’

  ‘Can I ask them a question?’

  The medical team all glanced at each other, as if they’d never been asked anything before.

  ‘You mean a medical question? They are still learning, remember.’

  ‘And maybe this will help.’

  ‘Okay, well, if the medical students are happy to answer then I don’t see why not.’

  Nathan wasn’t sure why he was doing this. But if he was right about what was coming, he wanted it to be done in the right way.

  The two medical students were looking at him reluctantly. ‘I was thinking a lot, out in the waiting room. You probably all know my medical history. You probably know that I work as a tandem skydiving instructor.’ The students – a man and a woman – nodded in the right places. ‘I’ve been sitting out there thinking about all the things I’ve never done. Stupid things, like I’ve never fallen over because of someone tying my shoelaces together or grown my own sunflower from a seed.’

  Nathan wasn’t completely sure where he was going with this other than to impress upon them what a human experience this was. That he wasn’t just a nameless, faceless patient. That the words the doctor would provide mattered. That the sentences these students would provide in the future would stay with each of their patients for a long time, perhaps forever.

  ‘So my question is, what’s my name? And I don’t mean Mr Foxdale. Hands up if you know my first name.’

  The students looked at each other, perhaps hoping the answer would come if they conferred. After breaking their brief glance, the female student put her hand up.

  ‘I’ve never planted a sunflower seed either, by the way. Your name is Nathan.’

  To Nathan’s surprise, hearing his name put a lump in his throat. All at once it was real and he was a mess. ‘Thank you,’ he managed to croak out.

  ‘We should thank you,’ said Dr Howson. ‘It’s an important lesson for all of us to remember. We shouldn’t neglect the most basic patient care. And I must apologise for calling you Mr Foxdale when you would prefer me to use your first na
me.’ The doctor moved a box of tissues closer to Nathan. ‘Are you happy for the students to stay?’

  Nathan grabbed a tissue, surprised to find he was already in need of one. He nodded, not able to form a sentence at that moment. He’d never intended to kick them out; he just wanted them to know this wasn’t about clinical notes or diagnoses. Their future jobs would involve making a thousand differences, but they needed to never lose sight of the fact that each of those differences belonged to an individual with a name. An individual with a life span that might mean they never get round to completing half the things they wanted to.

  ‘Thank you for letting them stay.’

  Nathan nodded, not a fraction closer to feeling ready for what was to come.

  ‘There is no easy way of saying this, Nathan… We have the results from the lumpectomy and I’m afraid it wasn’t the news we were hoping for.’

  The tears were steadily streaming now. Nathan hadn’t expected to react like this. After so many years, he thought he’d be stoic. Instead, he was finding that there was no number of dreams that would have prepared him for this moment. ‘What is the news?’

  The doctor focused on the notes rather than him for a moment and took a breath before talking again. ‘The lump we removed was cancerous, and I’m sorry to report it was metastatic.’

  And there was the blow.

  The news that winded him completely.

  ‘What does metastatic mean?’ Emma asked from beside him.

  ‘The lump was a symptom of a secondary cancer, so that means it’s already spread.’

  ‘Oh. Shit.’ It wasn’t often that Emma swore, and it was the clearest indicator that this was bad news.

  The news he’d been waiting for.

  It meant he would never take his kids on the school run.

  He would never even know if there were any kids to take on the school run.

  And with every thought that came, the air in the room disappeared.

  He couldn’t catch his breath. He couldn’t find the oxygen to keep him alive.

  The pain started to trail up to his heart and the room started to swim.

  ‘Breathe, Nathan,’ Emma reminded him, grabbing his hand.

  If only he remembered how.

  ‘Don’t faint on me now.’

  ‘Nathan,’ Dr Howson repeated. ‘Take some deep breaths.’

  His body propelled him into taking a proper inhalation. One that pushed out his ribcage rather than staying stuck in his throat.

  ‘That’s it. A few more like that,’ Emma said.

  He took another while his body remembered what it was supposed to do.

  ‘Can I get you some water, Nathan?’ the male student asked.

  Nathan nodded, glad the student had stayed when he was offering such practical solutions. When the plastic cup was delivered, Nathan managed to steady his breath with each sip he took. The last thing he needed was another panic attack showing up and taking hold. Emma was rubbing his back and the rhythm of that was also helping.

  ‘I’m okay. You can carry on.’ However scared Nathan was, he needed to hear this. He needed to know what he was facing.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Nathan nodded.

  ‘Currently, it’s our priority to locate the primary source of the cancer and see what treatment we can offer you.’

  ‘What, so you don’t know from the results?’ Nathan was getting nervous about answers he didn’t yet have. He thought cancer was good at leaving breadcrumbs, showing off about what it had been up to.

  ‘We have an idea, but we obviously need to get full confirmation. We have you booked in for a full-body scan for as soon as possible so we can try and get some definite answers and check there isn’t anything else we’re missing. Are there any other health concerns you’ve had? Anything we need to know about? Anything your partner can think of?’

  Nathan shook his head, as much in shock as to confirm that no, there wasn’t anything else. Apart from… Maybe there was?

  ‘There is one thing.’ Nathan looked to Emma as he quietly said it, unsure what anyone would make of it.

  ‘Yes?’ The doctor peered up from his notes, hopeful of something that would help him.

  ‘I’ve always had the same dream. I’ve always dreamed about dying at twenty-seven.’

  It was weird to be saying it out loud, not least because it was about time he told someone in the medical profession. The weird thing was trying to describe it. Dreams weren’t meant to be about dying. Dreams were meant to be about aspirations.

  ‘Make sure we get an MRI of the brain. We need the results as a priority,’ the doctor said to his registrar. ‘Anything else? Any other dreams?’

  Nathan wasn’t about to tell him about the crying baby. The doctor would be calling a psychologist as well as ordering extra tests.

  ‘Nope, no other dreams.’ At least not ones he would achieve in his lifetime. They seemed to have disappeared along with the oxygen in the room.

  Nathan’s Diary

  Labels are important. Or at least they can be. They seem to be in the medical world. It’s like without the label they don’t know how to effectively make an action plan for life.

  They are on the hunt for my primary tumour. In the meantime, there are parts of me they are unable to pinpoint. Is the dream just a dream? Or is it a symptom? Is it a sign of what’s wrong? They tend to discuss me, or rather it, like I’m not present. Like I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve been admitted to the hospital. Confessing to the dream was a move too far. Now they talk to me like I’ve lost all my senses.

  I’ve argued with them. They did a scan of my head before – the unexplained coma saw to that. If there was a tumour causing my problems, surely they would have spotted it then, but apparently it wasn’t detailed enough. That’s why this other scan was necessary. Because they need to pinpoint me with a label. They can’t have a man with mets without finding a primary. And they can’t have a man with a recurring dream without finding out if the two are related.

  They’re not doing a very good job of hiding the lines they are drawing between the two. The recurring dreams are as a result of a tumour – that’s how the thought process is going.

  Is it possible the thing trying to kill me has been giving out the warning all along? And all I’ve done is carry on dreaming.

  Forty-Two

  Day Thirty-Six

  The ritual of making dinner was a comforting one and Emma was opting to cook for her mother rather than the carer providing a microwave meal. Perhaps it was because Emma didn’t have to think about what she was doing. She was chucking in ingredients without having to think about what went into the carbonara sauce because she already knew. The recipe was so familiar it didn’t take thought or effort.

  The past few weeks, it was as if someone had jammed the accelerator pedal down on her life and they weren’t going to take their foot off anytime soon. It was hard to keep up. It was almost like she’d wished it upon herself, with the amount of times she’d been here cooking for her mother, feeling like she was trapped and wishing for something more exciting to come along. And now that had happened, she was half wishing she could go back to how it was before.

  Only she didn’t really want that. She didn’t want a life without Nathan – never being kissed, never truly living. The forward acceleration might be happening so quickly that she was experiencing whiplash, but she didn’t want to go back. The only problem was that what they faced ahead made the world a scary and treacherous place.

  ‘How did it go? Is Nathan not joining us? You two seem to be getting on very well.’ Carole asked once Emma was setting her up to eat at the table.

  Ever since they’d returned from their trip, Carole had been asking rather leading questions, wanting more gossip than Emma was willing to give her own mother. ‘It’s been really nice having him stay here,’ Emma said, not wanting to say more.

  It only took a second for Emma’s cheeks to blush furiously. The good thing about having Nathan t
o stay was that the magic of their trip had never really ended. Each night, Nathan stayed with her in her room. Each night, she felt like she needed to pinch herself.

  ‘You don’t need to say any more. I’m just glad to see you happy. Nathan seems like a really lovely guy and that makes me happy too. Where is he tonight?’

  The other thing about carrying on with the mundane tasks of life – the bits needed in order to survive – was that it was all part of carrying on regardless. If she kept putting one foot in front of the other, she didn’t have to admit to what was actually happening.

  But she did.

  Because without even opening her mouth, there were tears pushing through whatever persona it was she’d been trying to maintain. Autopilot was only ever going to get her so far.

  ‘What’s the matter, darling? Was it awful? Whatever it is, we’ll get it sorted.’ A shaky limb was offered to Emma for comfort.

  ‘Nothing like that.’ Emma shook her head vigorously. She didn’t want her to get the wrong end of the stick. But she wasn’t able to say why without sobbing a bit more.

  ‘What then, lovely? Whatever it is, you can tell me.’

  It was hard to breathe. It was hard to find the kind of air she needed to match the words she needed to say. Because how was it possible to say the words she didn’t want to admit to? They’d not even been said by any of the medical professionals. But they’d been there in that room. Hanging in the air. They’d been there on every one of the medical professionals’ faces.

  Emma’s mother held her, their dinner getting cold.

  It was so hard to want to be anywhere but in that space. Now she was there, she didn’t want to move. Who would want to gravitate away from a hug that said it would all be okay? It was a bubble that provided temporary sanctuary from the exhaustion and heartbreak of real life.