On A Cold Winter's Night

by Leanne Burroughs

  The few sips of coffee and bagel bites he had taken suddenly churned in his stomach, making him so nauseated and lightheaded he struggled to stand against the blustery wind.

  "Take a breath, Philip,” Elle told him. The verge of tears soon forgotten and replaced with a calm, stoic expression. “I wonder if I looked that awful when I got the news."

  "Are they sure it's cancer?” He instantly felt moronic for asking such an elementary question prompted by his heart and not his mind.

  She unwound her thick black scarf and bared her neck. “Positive."

  Instinctively, Philip reached out and ran a finger gently over the red line left behind from a recent biopsy. “When did you have this done?"

  "Last week. CT, PET scans and blood work, too."

  "So, they know the type and the stage you're in?"

  "Hodgkin stage II B."

  "It's just in the lymph nodes, then? Your organs are clear?"

  "Yes, it's in the lymph nodes on the right side of my neck and beneath my arm."

  "Which line of treatment are you following? Which oncologist have you been assigned to? Are you pursuing treatment here or back in Indianapol—"

  "Calm down. Let's tackle one question at a time. Although, if I'm being completely truthful, I don't really have concrete answers for any right now."

  "What?! Elle, you've got to start treatment immediately before this has a chance to worsen!"

  "I know that, but I'm just not sure what I want to do. I don't know if I'd be better off staying here or going back to Indy."

  "There are great oncologists in both cities that will be covered by your insurance now that the sister hospital is open. But I don't really understand why you'd consider getting treated in Indy, though. Surely, your family must want you to stay here so they can help you."

  Elle turned away from him and returned her gaze to the skyline. “They don't know yet."

  "You can't keep them in the dark about something like this!"

  "They'll know soon enough. I know I can't keep dawdling. Fainting yesterday is vehement proof of that. But Christmas is so close, I don't see the point in ruining it. If you could have seen my mother's face last night when we were decorating the tree, you'd understand. She just kept saying how happy she was to finally have all of us together and was over the moon when Archie and Kimmy announced she's pregnant with their first child. Just because I can't enjoy the holiday doesn't mean I should wreck it for everyone else."

  "We both know you wouldn't be wrecking anything, Elle."

  "That doesn't stop it from feeling that way. All I wanted when I found out was to savor Christmas and try to hold on to one last bit of normalcy before everything changes. But it's too late. I'll manage to forget and feel like myself again, like just another person who is looking for a tree, deciding which branch to hang an ornament on or how many marshmallows to add to their cocoa. But then I have a spell with unavoidable symptoms and reality sets back in."

  Philip glimpsed down at her still shaking hands that revealed the fear her poise and even tone couldn't disguise. “How many spells have you had?"

  "Yesterday was the first fainting episode, the cold sweats at night and fevers have been happening on and off for weeks, but they're starting to become consistent now. I've got to start thinking of some other excuse besides spilled water to explain soaked bed sheets to my mother. But at least she's already convinced I'm catching a cold, which could buy me a little time."

  He placed his hands over hers, rubbing her fingers and palms in a futile attempt to end the trembling. “Do you really think you're capable of keeping up this facade?"

  "Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, it's only two more days. I can make it. It's not like I'm an invalid."

  "I didn't mean to suggest—"

  "I know you didn't. I think I'm reminding myself more than you, anyway."

  "May I ask what first caused you to get an exam?"

  She pulled her hands away. “Not if you're asking to do what I think you plan to do."

  "And just what is that?"

  "Dissect the last few weeks we were together before calling off the engagement for symptoms."

  A weak smirk surfaced on his lips. “Am I that transparent?"

  "I expected it because that's what I did. We always thought alike as physicians when we were searching for a diagnosis. And, please, don't even think of blaming yourself for missing something."

  "How can I not? I just keep thinking there must have been some hint I didn't notice that I should have.” Philip sighed heavily and hung his head. “I knew whatever you told me today wouldn't be something mild, but I never could have imagined this."

  "Me either,” she muttered. “I was blindsided when I got the news, I just felt so stupid! After all, I am in the right age bracket and had a few of the symptoms. I'd been very tired for weeks and I noticed swelling in my glands, but I thought nothing of it. I blamed being rundown on the stress from everything that had just happened between us and a busy schedule until—” She paused and locked her eyes with his, the horror of the memory etched into her delicate features. “When the night sweats started, I couldn't ignore it anymore. And even then, I woke up terrified I was developing tuberculosis and that I had put other people at risk. I never thought there would be a day when I wound up wishing it was TB."

  Philip stared back at her silently while he uselessly searched his brain for the right thing to say, layered with guilt for not being there to help her when she needed it most. “You made a very logical assumption and should take pride in the fact that you first thought of others instead of yourself. TB is treatable, but far from a walk in the park."

  "It certainly beats the truth,” Elle replied matter-of-factly.

  He shook his head in sudden disbelief. “To think I was griping at you about stupid transfers and insipid wedding details when you were sick. Looking back, I did notice you were barely eating when we would manage to have dinner together, but I thought it was just because you were annoyed with me due to the bickering and eager to get back to work for easy avoidance. And you were tired—"

  "Like there's a resident at St. Anne's who isn't tired? Philip, I didn't tell you to try to make you feel guilty or win your sympathy. I just . . . Heck, I don't even know why I told you."

  "All the same, I'm glad you did.” He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer.

  She took a step back. “You don't have to do this."

  "I know that, Ellie,” he said, pleased to feel her nickname leave his lips again. “I want to. We were together three years and in love. Is a broken engagement really enough to just make all of that vanish overnight? Being apart for a couple of months hasn't stopped me from thinking about you and it surely can't make me stop caring about you, especially now. Let me help you."

  Philip stood behind her and felt her tense shoulders gradually ease and tight breaths become more regular when he encircled his arms around her waist. She reclined back against him, her head resting on his shoulder, and her forehead, warm with fever, grazing his cheek.

  Several moments of silence passed while he held her and drew in the familiar scent of roses and lavender that always lingered on her skin and hair that he'd missed. He tightened his grip, wishing he could somehow transfer the cancer cells invading her body into his.

  "For the first time in over a week, I feel like I can actually breathe,” Elle whispered into his ear. “I guess that's why I told you. I was desperate to tell someone and be able to have time when I'm not thinking about how to keep this a secret. You're right, a broken engagement doesn't automatically make everything disappear. Even though we'd gone our separate ways when I found out, you were still the first person I instinctively wanted to confide in."

  She spun around and faced him. “Do you remember the first time I saw you?"

  "Well, I guess it was the first time we were assigned to work together during our internships. We were assisting that cantankerous old man who said I looked like I belonged on a surfboard and you looked
too young to be a high school graduate, let alone a doctor."

  "No. I saw you on my first day. I was walking to the elevator and spotted you in the waiting room with a little Russian girl whose mother was in surgery after an MVA. She was confused and crying, and no one had been able to calm her, while we waited for a translator to show up. But you found a way to break the language barrier and made her a little balloon out of a latex glove with a silly face scribbled on it that actually made her laugh."

  With his fingertips he brushed away a few of the silky red and gold tresses that covered her eyes and slid them behind her ear. “But that still didn't solve the biggest problem of finding a translator."

  "Maybe not, but at least for that moment a little girl wasn't quite as afraid and overwhelmed."

  Philip kept his hands cupped gently on her neck, drawn back to the thin scar resting beneath his thumb. “I can't fix this with a balloon.” He choked on the words.

  "No, you can't.” Elle embraced him. “But for right now, I'm not quite as overwhelmed."

  He returned her hug, unable to allow his own overwhelming combination of fear and anger welling up inside of him to relent. For several hours every day his hands administered life-saving intubations that could return air to failing lungs and shocks from a defibrillator that could restart a dying heart. But for the sick woman in his arms, whom he still deeply cared for, he could do nothing more than hold her.

  "There has to be something more I can do, Ellie."

  "You're an ER doc, Philip, just like I am, not an oncologist."

  "No, but I've gotten to know a few local oncologists recently. Let me make a call to Dr. Greene. He's one of the best in the state. Maybe I could call in a favor and he'd be able to squeeze you in toward the end of the day before his holiday break starts."

  "I already told you, I just want to try to make the most out of the next couple of days with my family before everything changes."

  "I know and I get that. But it would only be an appointment, not a treatment session that could potentially make you sick. And you said yourself that you still haven't decided whether to see an oncologist here or in Indy yet. If you decide to stay in Evansville, you're going to need a specialist. And if you like Greene this will give you a jumpstart."

  "I don't deserve special treatment."

  "If a patient came into the ER today with suspicious, specific symptoms they'd get a consult with a specialist, too."

  "With one of the best in the state?” she challenged.

  "Fine, maybe there is a bit of special treatment. But I'm not going to apologize for giving it to someone who is special to me."

  "It's not fair."

  "What if it were me? What would you want me to do?"

  Elle lifted her head and stared directly into his eyes. “I'd want you to make the appointment."

  "I just wish I were calling for me instead of you."

  "Don't say that,” she said, her voice soft, yet firm as she placed a hand to his cheek. “The last week has been hellacious for me. But if it were you on the other side of things, it would be far worse."

  Philip rested his hand over hers. In that moment, it was clear he wasn't the only one harboring a love in his heart that had yet to vanish. And it was exceedingly tempting to whisper a genuine ‘I love you’ into her ear and ask her to forget the stupidity they had allowed to pull them apart and start over to fight her battle together as a couple. But he couldn't risk putting her in an awkward position and adding to her daunting problems.

  "So, you'll go see him?"

  She swallowed roughly. “Yes."

  "I'll make the call right now.” He reached into his coat pocket.

  "Could it wait?” Her teeth chattered. “The cold air is getting the better of me."

  Philip rubbed her back when she shivered in the strengthening wind. “Of course. I probably wouldn't get service out here anyhow. Come on, let's get you back inside."

  Elle allowed him to guide her away from the railing, her arms linked around his waist. “Philip,"—she squinted up at a mangled piece of sparkling red ribbon surrounded by green leaves above the door—"what is that?"

  "I believe it's a really bad attempt at makeshift mistletoe. One of the interns has been trying to woo a nurse and apparently is starting to get desperate."

  "Authentic or not, it seems a shame to let it go to waste."

  "You want to—"

  Rising on her tiptoes, Elle pressed her lips to his before he could finish speaking. The warmth of her breath and tender lips tickled his mouth, forcing him to use all of his willpower to pull away before he gave in to raw desire.

  "Elle,” he panted, “what are we doing?"

  "We've both asked and answered enough questions for now. I'm so tired of thinking and being logical. Let's just live in the moment and enjoy it. Please."

  He gazed down into her pleading silver eyes and fell under her spell, determined to turn their moment into a lasting memory. All hesitancy faded as he ran his fingers through her hair and succumbed to the renewed passion resonating between them. He placed a trail of light, flirtatious pecks over her neck and jaw, then claimed her lips with a warm kiss that even the frosty air couldn't chill.

  * * * *

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Three

  * * * *

  "So, we'll see you back here next week on the 29th at nine a.m. and get things started."

  Elle stared blankly at the appointment card the nurse slipped into her fingers, the fresh ink already smeared by the cold sweat covering her palm.

  "Do you have any other questions?"

  "N-No,” she stammered. “Dr. Greene was very detailed."

  "Would you like me to show you the way out, hon?” The professional tone of the older woman's voice was replaced with motherly worry. “These hallways can be a bit like a labyrinth and pretty confusing your first time here."

  "I can manage, thank you."

  Desperate to get away from the oncology clinic, Elle shoved the card into her jeans pocket and hurried away from the nurse's looks of pity. The smell of talcum powder and rubbing alcohol drifted into the hallways from the small, cubicle-sized lab where nurses had struggled to draw her blood and left her queasy and craving fresh air.

  She weaved her way through the twists and turns, feeling a brief moment of solace when she saw the door to the waiting room only ten or eleven feet away. But suddenly she stood frozen, distracted by the sound of someone gagging. Turning her head, she gazed through a tiny window embedded in the closed door into the room where patients sat on either side, arms extended limply beside the IVs dripping chemotherapy into their veins. One woman bent over a bowl held by a nurse, the few strands of blonde hair left on her head blocking her face from view while she vomited.

  The sight and sound that Elle had seen and heard so many times before in the ER now intensified, echoing loudly in her ears and leaving her vision blurred while she glimpsed at the patient, knowing she was no longer looking through a window but to a mirror to her future.

  Walking at a near jog, she threw open the door and hurried into the waiting room.

  "Elle?"

  In the corner of her eye, Philip sat with a magazine spread over his lap, but she couldn't bring herself to walk over to him. Rushing along, she burst into a full run once she was out of the waiting room and sped through the empty hall. The cold air fiercely blasted against her face when she ran outside and she took gulping breaths of it, calmed by the ironic burn that filled her lungs and the near silence only broken by the faint sound of giggling children in the park across the street.

  "Elle!"

  She kept her gaze forward when Philip called her name, his footsteps coming closer, too embarrassed to turn around and face him.

  "Elle,” he panted once he reached her side, “what happened back there? Are you okay?"

  "I-I just needed to get out of there.” Her voice so timid she barely recognized it. “I needed some fresh air."

  "Well, at l
east put your coat on."

  She glanced down at the black corduroy jacket he held out and then at her empty hands, unaware she'd dropped it in her haste.

  "Looks like they really did a number on you in the lab.” Gently, he pulled down the sleeves of her bulky blue sweatshirt over the cotton swabs taped to her arms and hands. “You must have some temperamental veins."

  "I felt like a human pincushion,” she replied numbly, allowing him to slide the coat over her shoulders and pull the zipper up as if she were a child. “Thank you."

  "You're welcome. You still look pretty shaken. Do you want me to drive you home?"

  "No, I'll be fine.” Elle said more for her own reassurance than his. “I think I'll just sit in the park for a few minutes."

  He extended his hand. “Would you mind a little company?"

  "No, I'd like that.” She laced her fingers through his. “But you didn't have to burden yourself with coming here. You should be catching up on sleep."

  "I got a good six hours of zz's earlier. And this wasn't a burden. I wanted to be here for you. I'm sorry I didn't get here before they called you back."

  "Don't be."

  "How did the appointment go?"

  They crossed the street and found an empty bench to sit on.

  "As expected, Dr. Greene looked at the recent records I brought with me from Indianapolis and the rapid results from my blood work today and concurred with the original recommendations to begin chemotherapy and then combine a few sessions of mantle field radiation. And if the trouble with my veins continues, he suggested considering a central venous catheter."

  "Did you like him?"

  "Yes. I like his attitude. He treated me like a person, which is far better than some doctors you and I have worked with treat their patients. I went ahead and made my first appointment for treatment next week."

  "You're staying here?"

  "Yeah, I think it would be better for my family if I did."

  Philip gave her fingers a light squeeze. “This is a good thing, Elle. You'll have your family here fighting in your corner with you and you're taking the first step toward recovery."

  "Then why does it feel more like a stumble?” she blurted out, unable to contain her mounting frustration.