Neither Rose nor Seamus responded to this sobering news in any way that was discernable. They simply sat, staring at the doctor’s face, hoping for something other than what they’d just heard.
Dr. Dewitt stood up and handed Rose a card, having taken the liberty of scheduling a date and time with Dr. Rubbick for her. The card said Thursday, two days from today, at 10:00 a.m. Rose’s first thought was wishing the appointment had been set for one hour from now. She wanted desperately to put this all behind her and get back to the business of living, but she had a gnawing feeling that her life was about to unalterably change.
ON THURSDAY, ROSE and Seamus visited Dr. Rubbick together. Despite her protestations to Seamus that there was no need for him to take off work, Rose was relieved to have him by her side. She felt she was coping fairly well so far with the unsettling news. The problem was, it just hadn’t sunk in that she actually had cancer—the only time it really hit her was when she remembered the healing biopsy location. She felt perfectly fine, healthy as can be. Some moments she believed she could handle anything the doctors threw at her; other times she felt vulnerable and insecure. One thing was certain. Rose was starting to recognize that she was on the precipice of what might be an undulating journey, and in those moments, she was afraid.
Rose and Seamus arrived at the newly renovated section in Massachusetts General Hospital. The waiting room at Dr. Rubbick’s office was the same as any other, only with an expansive sitting area for patients. Apparently, Dr. Rubbick shared her office with several other physicians. The setting felt clinical, business-like.
The two of them sat holding hands, watching CNN on the television sitting on a shelf above the aquarium. This was merely a distraction, however, as neither paid any attention to what the dark-haired reporter was saying. Together, they contemplated what awaited Rose beyond the door leading into the doctor’s office.
The nurse called Rose’s name at 10:25. They stood up in unison and followed her back to an exam room where she took Rose’s blood pressure, temperature and pulse. In a polite but business-like manner, the nurse let them know that the doctor would be with them shortly and then walked out.
A few minutes later, Dr. Rubbick entered the room. She was a tall woman with long blond hair and a confident presence. It was clear immediately that she was quite comfortable discussing cancer, much more so than Dr. Dewitt. Her demeanor was similar to that of someone engaged in casual chitchat or idle talk about the day’s weather, only showing empathy for Rose’s situation.
“I would like to perform a more detailed scan, probably a CT, so we can get a good look at your lung. This will help us firm up just how treatment should be handled. We’ll schedule surgery early next week to remove the lump and some of the surrounding tissue.”
Without taking a breath, she continued. “I examined the X-rays taken in Salem. I don’t think the other small lumps are carcinomas, but just to be sure, we’ll remove one for testing. If they look like fibroadenomas, I’m inclined to just leave them alone, as they are very small and you’ll already be losing some breast tissue as a result of the lumpectomy.”
As if that weren’t enough, the doctor said, “I want to get you started on a chemotherapy treatment, most likely the day following surgery. You are strong and healthy so I don’t see any reason to wait. If we hit this hard at the outset, I think you have a very good chance of beating it, Rose. That being said, I won’t make any guarantees until I get a look at that lung.”
Rose reacted as if the woman were speaking a foreign language. “Are you saying that, in addition to part of my breast, you might have to remove some of my lung?”
“There is a chance, yes. I would rather you lost part of your lung than to allow the cancer to spread unchecked. I have to warn you though, if you have a tumor in your lung, it will mean a slightly different prognosis and much more aggressive treatment.”
“Just how aggressive, Doctor?” Seamus interjected.
The doctor responded without buffering the blow. “Aggressive. But let’s determine that after the tests.” She went on to provide her email and then sent them immediately to radiology for a CT scan.
SEAMUS HAD SOME paid time off coming to him and decided to play hooky and spend some time with Rose the entire day after dropping off the kids at school. He sat on the couch reading an adventure book while Rose sat reading one of her mystery novels, both of them comfortable. Soft music played on the stereo as they enjoyed the moment. They had always relished these comfortable silences between them. To some, it might have felt awkward, but for Rose and Seamus, it eased all of life’s daily tension. They each delighted in enjoying an individual pursuit while remaining in the presence of the other.
Their treasured silence was severed by the jarring ring of a telephone. Rose sat for a second, looking at Seamus, annoyed by the interruption. She looked over at it but didn’t feel like moving. Reluctantly, she left her chair to answer the phone just in case it was the children’s school or her doctor. Seamus watched her walk across the room.
“Hello?” she said.
Her expression changed from one of annoyance to one of concern. “Uh-huh. I see. What does that mean exactly?”
Seamus continued watching her intently. Rose suddenly lost the color in her face, and without emotion, she responded, “Okay. Saturday at 9:00 a.m. Got it.”
Seamus anxiously tried to read her expression. “What is it?” he interrupted. “What are they saying?” Rose said nothing. She locked eyes with her husband and fought back tears. She continued her phone conversation, holding her hand up to him as if to say, “Hold on, I’m still listening.”
There was a lengthy pause. “Mm-hmm. No. I’m okay.” Rose ended with, “Thank you for letting me know. Have a good day.”
While she stood at the phone listening to the unsettling news delivered right from Dr. Rubbick herself, Rose’s thoughts shifted off track. When Rose was seven, she had accompanied her mother to visit a friend named Leigh. Rose couldn’t quite remember the details of Leigh’s face, but what she did remember was the spectacle of the long plastic hose winding its way from the noisy oxygen machine to Leigh’s head, its tubes wrapped hideously over her ears. She also remembered that Leigh had worn a handkerchief over her balding head, and she had seemed weak and fragile—very different from the robust, happy woman who had bounced Rose on her lap when she was a preschooler.
Her mother had Rose make a life promise right then and there. “Cancer doesn’t come from a lack of caring for yourself, Rosie. It favors no status, gender or race. I want you to promise me you’ll live your life fully, daughter, and pray you never get this wretched disease.”
Now here Rose stood, receiving the same life-altering news that Leigh had no doubt received thirty years earlier. Rose went slack as she put down the phone and then walked slowly over to Seamus. Sitting down beside him on the edge of the couch, she looked broken. Seamus put his arm around her. “What did they say, Rosie? It’s not good news, is it?”
Rose looked up into his eyes. “That was Dr. Rubbick. I have stage three cancer. She said that even though they didn’t do a full-body scan, I am positive in at least six-to-eight lymph nodes.” There was a long moment of silence between the two, but this time it was an uncomfortable silence for Seamus, as he wanted so badly to eliminate this looming fear for his wife.
Next, Rose looked directly at her husband and calmly spoke the words he had feared most. “Dr. Rubbick gives me six months, unless I begin treatment immediately. She wants to do a full mastectomy of my left breast. She said my lung is clean, so they only need to remove my breast. I’m to arrive at the hospital at 8:15 Saturday morning to fill out the paperwork. She’s scheduled me for surgery at 9:00 a.m.”
The two friends, husband and wife, looked at each other, not knowing what to say. Rose wasn’t crying, but her eyes were glazed. Seamus set his book down on the coffee table and held her as she placed her head on his shoulder. Rose spoke in close to a whisper. “We have to tell the kids, Seamus. They have to know.”
All Seamus knew to do was to be strong for his wife. “Of course,” he agreed, and then he turned to her. Lifting her chin gently so her eyes met his, he said, “We will make it through this, you and I together. Promise me you’ll fight this, Rosie—promise me now.”
When she responded, she sounded like a child trying to convince herself not to be afraid of the dark. “Okay,” she said with as much courage as she could muster. And then she cried, and it was the hardest cry of her life.
FOLLOWING DINNER THAT evening, Seamus looked over at the children and said, “Okay guys, everyone in the living room.”
Chrissy protested. “Daddy, I want to go upstairs and play.”
“You can do that later,” her father said. “Right now your mother and I have something important to talk about with you and your brother.”
The husband and wife sat their two children down side by side on the couch. Seamus explained that their mother was very sick and would be having surgery the day after tomorrow.
Chrissy was confused. “But Mommy doesn’t look sick.”
“I know she doesn’t look it, Chrissy, but there is something inside Mommy that could kill her if they don’t take it out.”
The gravity of the situation hit Chrissy and Jonathan in that moment. Seamus and Rose had not wanted to frighten the children, but they knew the kids had to face this new reality that had shown up in their lives, uninvited. Shielding their children from what lay ahead was not something they could do in good conscience.
Jonathan’s voice revealed panic. “Mommy’s going to die?” the six-year-old asked.
Doing her best to allay his fears, Rose replied, “No, Jon, not if we can help it. I’m going to the hospital Saturday. They will take out the cancer they can see and then give me medicine to get rid of the rest.”
Jonathan had a curious thought. “Regina’s grandmother has cancer. Are you going to be bald like Regina’s grandma? She lost all her hair, and she wears a scarf over her head.” The undiluted thoughts of a child could be disturbing at such times.
Again, Rose had a memory of Leigh, bald and hooked up to the noisy oxygen machine. Wssht, wssht—she could hear it in her mind. “Well, yes sweetie, I probably will lose my hair. It’s a normal part of the treatment.”
Chrissy looked sad for her mother. “Mommy, are you scared?” she asked.
Rose’s eyes filled with tears again, an all too common occurrence as of late. “Yes, sweetie, I’m scared. But as long as I have you guys here to help me, I can be brave.”
Rallying to support his mother, Jonathan asked, “Can we be there with you on Saturday?”
“Well, not in the operating room, but it would mean a lot to me if you kept Daddy company in the waiting room. Then you can see me afterwards.”
Chrissy seemed somewhat reassured. “Okay,” she said, a tentative smile on her face.
Rose was pleased with how well the children had taken the news—much better than she had taken it. The two put the children to bed. That was enough disclosure for one night.
Exhausted, Seamus and Rose undressed and climbed into their own bed, turning instinctively to wrap their arms around each other. They held each other tightly, not moving or speaking at first. Then they released their hold for some tender lovemaking.
Afterwards, Rose’s first thought was that the next time, minus a breast, their lovemaking was sure to be different. Without moving, she said in a whisper, “Seamus, I need to ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“After the surgery, will you still find me attractive…without my breast?”
Lovingly, Seamus caressed the part of her that would soon be gone. There in the dark, she could feel him smiling. “Well, I have to admit…your right breast is going to get a lot more attention after lefty is gone.” And they both laughed.
Seamus then spoke from the heart. “Of course I will still find you attractive. I’m not in love with your breasts…well, not exclusively.” He grinned again and then turned serious, looking through the dark into her eyes at a nose-to-nose distance. “I love you, Rose Ann Kearny. The whole woman. All of you. If a part of you is missing, I will miss it…but what’s most important is that you will be here much longer than any single part of the whole. And the whole is what matters to me, Rosie.”
For a minute, Rose could not speak. When she finally responded, her words were thick with love. “Thank you, Seamus, for everything—for being here with me, for being my partner and best friend, for being such a caring father to our children. I love you, husband.”
SEAMUS AND THE kids sat with Rose in pre-op. As the nurse administered the IV, Dr. Rubbick came around the corner dressed in scrubs and a colorful cap with bright red strawberries on it. She welcomed everyone and reassured Rose that she foresaw no complications. She was confident that she would have no problem removing the mass from her breast.
The doctor then turned to Seamus. “Mr. Kearny, can I speak with you for a moment?”
“Certainly,” he agreed, and then turning to his two children, he said, “Chrissy and Jonathan, why don’t you keep your mother company. I’ll be right back.”
Seamus followed the doctor into a nearby office. Dr. Rubbick didn’t close the door, opting to speak quietly instead. “I just want to assure you, Mr. Kearny, that although complications from surgery and anesthesia are always possible, I really don’t foresee any problems. Rose is strong and healthy, and that is all in her favor. The procedure itself should take about two hours. We will also biopsy two lymph nodes to provide a bit of a picture as to the level of chemotherapy needed for follow-up.”
Seamus was more than grateful for the doctor’s reassurance. “Thank you,” he said appreciatively.
Doctor Rubbick cocked her head, studying Seamus briefly and trying to get a read on his emotions. “You holding up okay?”
Ever the optimist, he chuckled and said, “Me? Aye. I’m a rock.”
Doctor Rubbick had to smile at his good-natured reply. “Good, because Rose and the kids are going to need a rock. But listen, Mr. Kearny, if you ever reach a point where you feel yourself beginning to flounder a bit, let me know. I can put you in touch with people who will help. Deal?”
“Deal. And thank you, Doctor.”
Seamus and the doctor returned to the curtained-off partition where the children waited with their mother. Rose already looked a bit tipsy from the medication. “Rose, how do you feel?” Doctor Rubbick checked.
“Feeeel?” She struggled to lift her head in the doctor’s direction and then said dreamily, “I feel greeeat.” Chrissy and Jonathan laughed.
Seamus didn’t quite see the humor. He forced a smile and walked over to kiss his wife. Motioning to the children that it was time to leave, he led them out of pre-op as the orderlies wheeled Rose out of her cubicle and down the hall for surgery.
CHRISSY SAT COLORING while Jonathan played on his PS2. Seamus sat in a chair, just staring at the television, not really hearing any of it. His wife Rose held center stage in his mind as he found himself contemplating worst-case scenarios—being a single father, having to explain to his children that Mommy wasn’t coming home or worst of all, having to address his children’s queries about their mother years later, such as, “What was mommy like?” Damn you, Seamus—stop that. This kind of thinking is not going to help you and your family through this.
An hour into the surgery, the door to the waiting room opened and in walked Rose’s mother Jamie. The children immediately spotted their grandmother, running over to her and shouting excitedly, “Grandma!” They threw their arms around her waist, delighting in her attention.
This snapped Seamus out of his melancholy. Her arrival at that moment felt like a pillar of support, and he smiled a wide smile of relief, grateful for her presence.
Seamus jumped up to meet her, wrapping his arms around her and offering a hug of gratitude. “Jamie—goodness, but it’s good to see you. When we called you on Thursday, I didn’t think you’d actually come all this way. B
ut I can tell you, it’s wonderful to have you here.”
She smiled back at her daughter’s husband. Seamus was such a good, solid man. “You have a lot to learn then about the Tiltons. She’s my daughter; you’d do the same for your Chrissy.”
“Aye—I would.” Seamus nodded in absolute agreement.
“I grabbed the first flight out of San Francisco I could get, but unfortunately, that didn’t leave until late last night. I so wanted to be here before they took my Rose into surgery.”
Right now, the affection he felt for his mother-in-law was etched in his expression. He had heard some pretty bad stories about in-laws and their tendency to insert themselves into their adult children’s married lives, but Jamie and Seamus had a mutual respect and genuine fondness for each other. In fact, Seamus and Jamie had always gotten along better than Rose and her mother had.
Rose had always joked that the reason for their easy camaraderie was Seamus’s Irish charm. The truth, however, was that ever since Rose had lost her father, she had struggled to maintain a relationship with her mother. Her parents had divorced when Rose was fifteen, and Rose had always blamed Jamie for it, never knowing that it had actually been a mutually agreed-upon parting of ways between the two. Rose had never witnessed any animosity between her mother and father; apparently, they just weren’t meant for each other the way Rose and Seamus were. She had enjoyed an easy closeness with her father, however, so the parting of her parents and her father’s subsequent departure from the home was painful and difficult for Rose to accept. Another factor in the mix was that Rose had married the love of her life right out of the gate. So her paradigm was completely different from that of her parents.
Jamie offered a segue. “Rose—how is she?”
“Well, she went into surgery a little over an hour ago. She was fine when she went in.” Seamus paused in thought, looking hard into his mother-in-law’s eyes. “But the truth is, Jamie, she’s been having a really hard time coping with this whole ordeal.”
Ruins of the Mind Page 14
