Jamie lowered her chin and the smile left her face. “So have I. So I can’t begin to imagine what she’s going through. I’ve never had anything like this happen. I’ve known a few people with cancer, but I never thought in a million years it could hit my daughter—and at so young an age, Seamus.”
Watching his mother-in-law speak, Seamus noted the strong likeness between the woman and her daughter, not just in their appearance but also in their gestures. It was like talking to an older version of his wife. Only a Rose with two breasts—what a shitty thought.
Seamus stood on a precipice, expected to be a rock of support but teetering back and forth between a point of strength and the vulnerability of a child. A familiar, comfortable part of his world had already been snatched away, and what remained was slipping gradually from his grasp. He was struggling to keep his own emotions in check while at the same time coping with the trauma his wife and children were experiencing.
Jamie watched Seamus as distress veiled his face, and she wanted to help. “What is it Seamus? What’s wrong, dear?” She knew him to be a stoic man, immovable by circumstance. She motioned for the children to return to their play and then tugged gently at his arm, pulling him down on the chair closest to where he was standing. His eyes filled with tears and Jamie responded in a kind, compassionate voice. “Talk to me—please, Seamus. I’m here to help.”
Seamus sat, focusing on the crossed hands in his lap. Then, turning his head toward his mother-in-law with questioning eyes, he said, “I don’t know what to talk about really. My thoughts are all over the place…” His tone changed to one of pleading as he searched Jamie’s eyes for some thread of hope. “My bride, Jamie. I’m so frightened—so scared of losing her.”
Jamie reached out and, placing her left hand atop her son-in-law’s, spoke with total assurance. “You won’t lose her, Seamus. We both know she’s a fighter—and so are you.” A sudden impish grin crossed her face. “She’s my daughter, and if there is anything I know about her, it’s that she can be one stubborn little bitch when she wants to be.” There was great truth in that declaration, and Seamus couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t often he let his guard down, preferring instead to be a sounding board and a listener. Around Rose and Jamie, however, he could be less than strong on occasion, revealing the ruminations of his heart.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Jamie,” he said finally. “I appreciate the company.”
She hugged her son-in-law. “Me too,” she said, knowing that he meant what he said.
Jamie left Seamus and went to play with the children, keeping them occupied so that Seamus could deal with his own thoughts. Dr. Rubbick had provided him a list of professionals he should call to set up some appointments, and now that Jamie was here to look after the children, Seamus was free to seek a quiet place and begin making the calls on his cell. He sought out another room where he could be alone and set up appointments with the chemo therapist and a family counselor. It was a start, anyway.
AT 11:17 A.M., Dr. Rubbick stepped into the waiting room wearing her scrubs and holding her cap in her hand. She looked exhausted but not upset. She huddled the family together into a corner of the waiting room.
Turning first to Jamie, she inquired politely, “Are you family?”
Jamie nodded. “I’m her mother,” she answered. “I had trouble getting a flight on time and just arrived.”
Dr. Rubbick’s countenance softened at once as she extended her right hand to the woman who so closely resembled Rose. “Dr. Rubbick. Nice to meet you. I wish our introduction could have been under better circumstances, but I’m glad you can be here for Rose.” The doctor motioned for them to sit, and she sat down across from them.
“The surgery went very well. We removed Rose’s left breast as well as a lymph node, and as a precaution, we biopsied three others. Based on the film taken last week, we don’t need to remove her right breast, but we will need to keep an eye on it. We should have a better idea of the necessary follow-up once she starts the chemo. She’s going to be very weak for the next few days. She may also be in a fair amount of pain, but I will give her some meds for that.” She paused, looking at the faces of the family, allowing them a few seconds to absorb the news.
“When can I see Mommy?” Jonathan asked, smiling as if nothing had changed.
“Well, I think in about five minutes you can all see her in the recovery room. She’ll be there for half an hour. I should warn you that she’ll be groggy as she comes out from under the effects of the anesthesia. Don’t expect her to talk much, and when she does, it might be pretty entertaining.” Doctor Rubbick smiled, anticipating their reaction. There was visible relief on the faces of the family.
THE NEXT TWO days weren’t quite as bad as Rose had expected. She was in a bit of pain, but the pain wasn’t excruciating considering a part of her body had just been removed. She took Percocet every four hours at first, but by the end of the first week she needed only one pill a day.
Surprisingly, Rose was getting along with her mother, enjoying her company. Jamie proved to be an immense help, vowing not to return to California until Rose was once again upright and mobile. The kids were happy to have their grandmother present and tending to their needs while their mother recovered. Rose thought about and understood her mother’s desire to be close; she would have wanted the same if her daughter Chrissy faced cancer. God forbid.
By the end of the fourth week, Rose wasn’t feeling nearly as sore, but being in the full throws of chemo, her body was taking a different toll. Day after day, she sat propped up on the couch or in bed when what she really wanted was to wash dishes, do laundry and pick up around the house—she yearned to move about her home again, but she lacked the energy to do so.
Jamie continued on, commander extraordinaire of the home front, but after six weeks, despite being continuously exhausted, Rose was ready for Jamie to leave and to take back control of her life again
Rose was on a three-times-per-week regimen of checking herself into the hospital and became progressively weaker. On cue, she lost all of her beautiful, waist-length chestnut hair. Trying to make the best of a troubling situation, she donated it to Locks of Love, an organization that creates wigs for people with cancer. In return, they used some of her hair to weave a short-haircut wig for Rose.
Rose was grateful to retain some of her femininity by wearing a reasonable replica created from her own hair, but looking in the mirror at her remastered image made her sad. Her skin became thin and it hurt to walk. At one point, while grocery shopping with Chrissy, Rose was so weak she had to support herself with the grocery cart to walk up and down the aisles. How could this chemo, something which rendered her so incredibly ill, ever amount to any good?
Two months into chemotherapy, Jamie quit her paralegal job at her law firm and moved to Massachusetts to live with her daughter’s family. Although Rose had protested, preferring to hire someone instead, financial constraints were an issue, and her mother had insisted. Within a week of her mother moving in, however, Rose was relieved and even grateful that she was there. The laundry was always done, and the dishes were always washed. And to Jamie’s credit, she was cautious to maintain a bit of distance from her daughter, sensing early on that Rose needed it.
A hospital bed was set up on the first floor in the den; climbing the stairs had become much too cumbersome, and Rose now used a wheelchair much of the time. Consequently, the children, Seamus and Jamie spent their evenings in the den, just wanting to be close to Rose. Many a night, Seamus would slip away downstairs through the darkness to Rose’s bed and lie next to her. In their twelve years of marriage, they had never slept more than a few nights apart, and even though it was too soon for Seamus to touch his wife, he very much wanted to be next to her.
Eventually, because Seamus wanted to be near his wife, he and a few friends—in the interest of saving money—converted the den into a master bedroom. He got rid of the bed upstairs that they had shared their entire marriage and returned th
e rented hospital bed, purchasing a Craftmatic adjustable bed so that Rose could prop herself up with greater ease. That first night in their new bedroom, lying next to his wife in a comfortably spacious king-sized bed, Seamus felt something akin to happiness for the first time in months.
ONE DAY WHILE Seamus was at work, Rose was walking slowly toward the kitchen and slipped and fell hard. Unable to discern the signals her brain was sending, her left leg just slipped right out from under her and down she went. Jamie ran to her side, struggling to help Rose up into her wheelchair.
Rose was so tired that the pain barely registered, but the look of concern on her mother’s face pierced her heart. “I’m okay, Mom—really. I’m okay.”
“Are you sure Rose? That was a nasty fall.”
Rose exhaled slowly. “Yes. Nothing hurts but my pride.”
Jamie was suddenly prickly. “Well, daughter, more than your pride is going to be damaged if you don’t ask for help the next time around. Your strong-headed ways are going to get the better of you one of these days.”
Rose’s fatigue ran deep, but she couldn’t allow her mother’s comment to go unchallenged. “What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, a look of daughterly disdain crossing her face.
Jamie didn’t want to argue with Rose, but in that moment, she couldn’t stop herself. “You made up your mind about me a long time ago, Rose Kearny, and once you made up your mind that I was the ogre, there wasn’t an ounce of forgiveness in that heart of yours for your mother.”
Rose broke into a half smile, incredulous over her mother’s words. “I never thought you were an ogre. I just didn’t understand how…” She stopped herself before a spew of words left her lips that she was certain to regret.
Jamie pushed the subject. “Go on—finish it, Rose. I know you have something weighin’ heavy on that chest of yours.”
“Okay, Mom. Since you’re pressing the point, here it is. I’ve never understood why you and Dad split up. He was a good man—he was.”
Jamie’s face turned pink in anger. “Don’t you think I knew he was a good man? He was my best friend in many ways. But we married as friends, Rose, not lovers. We enjoyed our time together, but after we married, we realized we just didn’t share the kind of love that a couple should have between them. So we agreed to split up but remain friends. We loved you so much, Rose, but we wanted a chance at personal happiness as well. We decided—together, mind you—that we deserved it.”
Rose sat staring up at her mother, considering this surprising admission. She had always loved Seamus so deeply and passionately. She could not imagine being stuck in a platonic marriage. Perhaps she had no right to judge someone else for their ruined relationship—not even her own mother.
A wave of regret moved over Rose’s face. “I’m sorry, Mom. I had no idea. Just because my relationship with Seamus has always been precious, it doesn’t mean you had a chance at the same. I just…didn’t know.”
Jamie’s demeanor toward her daughter softened. She smiled, shook her head and then said softly, “Darlin’, all you ever had to do was ask.”
A dam of plugged-up emotion let loose inside of Rose, and this time, her smile reached her eyes. It occurred to Jamie that it was the first genuine smile she had seen cross her daughter’s face in months. “Mom, I know I haven’t told you, but I’m so glad you’re here. I am so grateful for all you’ve done—what would I have ever done without you?”
Jamie paused only a second to take in what was happening between herself and her daughter. Then switching emotional gears, she nodded her head in agreement with herself and said tersely, “Oh please—it’s what mothers do. You’re my daughter, Rose, and you would do the same for your own children.”
“Yes,” she answered with absolute certainty. “I would indeed.” Rose could see that her mother appreciated her words even though she had brushed them off.
IN LATE FEBRUARY, Rose and Seamus sat side by side in Dr. Rubbick’s office, looking at her from across the desk, trying to read her demeanor. They had arrived hoping for good news, but in the ten minutes of waiting for the doctor’s arrival, fear had set in and they were fighting against a melancholy that had become a familiar foe in recent months. Seamus reached over and held his wife’s hand. He sat ready to support her, good news or bad.
Dr. Rubbick opened the file on the desk in front of her and looked directly across at her patient. “Rose?” she said kindly, barely a hint of an expression on her face.
Rose just looked back at the doctor—her face showed no emotion, no hint of anything she was feeling in the moment.
“Rose—your cancer is in remission.” Dr. Rubbick’s smile could not be contained. She held her hands out, palms up, and declared triumphantly, “You’re clean.”
Rose released a long breath that she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. “Sweet Jesus—Seamus!” She turned to her husband, who threw his arms around her as the two gave way to laughter from pure relief that had no words.
Even the doctor’s next comment had no restraining effect on their newfound joy. “Rose isn’t completely out of the woods yet, mind you. She still needs to return for follow-up tests in a few weeks and have regular checkups in the months ahead. But she is done with chemo, and her strength should start to return over the next few weeks.”
And with that, all three shared a laugh of relief and heart-filled joy over the wonderful news.
ONE FRESH SPRING day, Rose stood in the garden behind her home, trimming flowers from a vine growing on the trellis. Jamie walked up behind her daughter and sat down next to her on the sodden ground, picking up one of the cut roses in her hand. “Beautiful,” she said, holding the pink flower and looking fondly at her daughter.
Rose looked happy and healthy. “They are, aren’t they?” she said, turning to read her mother’s expression. Rose returned Jamie’s smile, realizing that it wasn’t the flowers her mother had been commenting on.
The two shared a quiet moment of understanding. Then Rose spoke softly. “To think that I might have died before I ever got to see these springtime roses I love so much.”
Briefly, Jamie considered what might have been. “Spring has always been a time for new life, Rose—a time for new beginnings…and in your case,” her mother said, smiling broadly, “I believe spring is a time of rebirth.”
And so it was.
Slivers of bright sun pierced the clouds in the sky above. Dominic was walking his usual path around the park located in the center of Orlando. He enjoyed getting away from work for a few minutes, and he liked the large fountain enclosed in glass that stood at the center of the park. Dominic’s mother had passed away when he was nineteen, and he had recently lost his father to cancer. This was his way of seeking solace and calming himself.
He was dressed in business-casual attire. His Marshalls’ dress shoes smacked the pavement with each step along the brick path, and his black Polo absorbed the sun’s heat, warming him. Dominic looked down at his shoes. They were polished and well maintained, but what most people didn’t know was that there was a small hole in the ball of each shoe. It was something that drove Dominic crazy, but the reality was, he just couldn’t afford to pay twenty-five dollars for another pair. He was scraping by at the moment and twenty-five dollars meant half a week’s groceries.
Since his wife had divorced him and taken full custody of their children, Dominic had more free time to get lost within his own thoughts—not always a good thing. He wanted so badly to see his two girls, but without a substantial income, he couldn’t afford to pay much in the way of child support. Dominic had been with Chase, Stanley and Rogers for twelve years, hired on with the Light Rail project that involved several airside terminal improvements at the Orlando Airport. Then unexpectedly, he and several other engineers were laid off, a sure sign that the economy was not improving as well as the Obama administration had planned. Economy on the rise? Right—show me the evidence.
Thinking that having seniority meant job security, Dominic had
purchased a beautiful house in Winter Park, north of downtown, with his wife and girls. It was a sprawling five-thousand-square-foot home with a pool, large den and four bedrooms—everything the couple wanted. Then came the word that he was being laid off without severance, and he was devastated.
Susan had encouraged him at first, telling him not to worry and that he would find another job soon. So Dominic had hit the pavement running. He distributed resumes at every opportunity and interviewed with any company that seemed interested.
The job search was actually a nice change of pace in some ways, but he had wished it had been under less dire circumstances. After eight months of searching, Dominic grew discouraged and looked for anything at all that would provide a steady income stream. He and his wife whittled through their savings at an alarming rate, trying to pay their extensive mortgage. Finally, they broke down and sold their house, moving into an apartment. That move had shattered his relationship with his wife.
Dominic felt like a failure all the way around—as an engineer, as a husband to his wife Susan, as a father and as a man. What kind of man can’t even provide for his family? It took great determination just to get out of bed every morning and go job hunting. His wife’s work as a nurse at Winter Park Hospital wasn’t enough to cover their expenses. Eventually, Susan ceased cheering him on, becoming as visibly frustrated as Dominic felt inside. She realized logically that the job loss wasn’t his fault but took out her frustrations on him, nonetheless. The couple continued on, arguing over too many issues to remember. This all culminated in a heated argument over losing their car. In the end, Susan determined that “for better or worse” was worse than she had bargained for and asked for a divorce.
So Dominic found a cheap studio apartment and moved out. As he had no visible means of paying for child support at the time, he regrettably relinquished full custody of his two daughters to his wife. After only three weeks at his new apartment, he received a callback interview from Griffin Engineering for an administrative assistant position. He couldn’t believe it had come to this. Administrative assistant. Four years of undergrad plus three years of graduate school to earn my master’s only to become an administrative assistant. Life couldn’t get much lower than this. That being his only choice, however, he had accepted the job, making thirty thousand a year—nearly fifty-five thousand less than he had made as a civil engineer.
Ruins of the Mind Page 15
