by Lisa Mills
“Miss Jordan, are you all right? Miss Jordan?”
Danielle looked up and found Doris staring at her, a worried frown adding lines to her wrinkled face.
“I … I’m fine.” She swallowed hard and wiped a hand over her brow. “I’ll be fine.” She said it more to assure herself than the clerk. The attempt to calm her own nerves wasn’t effective, and Doris still looked skeptical.
Doris came around the desk and laid a warm hand on Danielle’s shoulder. “This situation can be very stressful for parents. I could arrange for you to talk with someone … the chaplain maybe.”
“No!” The word came out with too much force, but Danielle couldn’t help it. She didn’t want anything to do with ministers. She’d had enough of them to last her a lifetime. “I mean, I appreciate the offer, but it’s not that. I just realized I forgot to do something important. I’ll make a phone call later and take care of it.”
Doris nodded, accepting the explanation. “All right. I’ll walk you to your first destination if you’re ready.”
Ready? Ready to battle leukemia? Ready to watch her child suffer? Ready to have her life turned upside down? The thoughts crashed over her like a tidal wave, smothering, overwhelming. If she dwelled on them she’d drown in her despair.
So she did what she did best. She buried them deep inside where she could ignore them.
“Sure. Lead the way.”
Chapter Seven
Danielle slipped away from the OR recovery room, assured by the nurses that Trevor would sleep another half-hour at least. The doctors had sedated him to perform a spinal tap and to thread a tube up his arm and into the larger veins near his heart to deliver the chemotherapy drugs. He looked so small in the hospital bed, so weak and helpless, that she hated to leave him. But her phone call couldn’t wait any longer.
Hoping Trevor would not miss her, she roamed the halls in search of a pay phone. She couldn’t afford to keep a cell, so she’d learned to make do with just her home line. But at times like this, a mobile phone would save her a lot of headaches. A hospital worker directed her to an alcove off the cafeteria where phone cubicles were available for public use. With trembling fingers, she dialed the operator and applied the charges for the long-distance call to her credit card.
“Economy Printing.”
“I need to speak with Dave Horvath, please,” she said, her voice thick.
He picked up a few minutes later, the noisy whir of the presses sounding in the background behind him.
“Dave, this is Danielle Jordan, Seaside Advertising and Design.”
“Where are you?” he asked, not kindly. “I’ve been trying to call you all morning.”
He must have been calling her home number and getting her machine.
She decided to be honest with him and hope he would understand and help find a solution. “I’m really sorry. I had to check my son into the hospital. I completely forgot about dropping off the CD.”
“Your kid’s in the hospital?” he asked, softening.
“Yes, he has leukemia.” She wasn’t trying to gain sympathy with the excuse, but what was wrong with telling the truth? Mr. Hartog had made it clear he couldn’t care less about her personal life, but not everyone was as cold-hearted.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He drew a deep breath. “How old is he?”
“Seven.” She choked back her tears and pressed forward. “Look, I realize that my problems have created scheduling inconveniences for you. What can I do to make it up to you and get back on your schedule? I really need this job printed as soon as possible.”
He sighed. “I already had the print files for the next job in line, so when I couldn’t reach you, I went ahead and put that one on the press. I only lost about forty-five minutes of work, so it’s not a huge deal, especially given your circumstances.”
A wave of relief washed over her. He wasn’t going to bully or demean her. And he seemed willing to help despite her blunder.
“We should wrap this job up Tuesday morning. If you can get your print files to me by tonight, I’ll start on them right after we complete the current job. It’ll take a day and a half to print your brochures. I think we could still deliver them by Thursday.”
Relief flooded over her. “That would be great.”
“Can you e-mail the files to me?”
“I don’t have access to my computer from here. I’ll have to deliver the disk.”
“Then can you get the disk here today? I’ll be here until eight or so.”
Could she? The better part of the day was already gone, but the doctors seemed nearly done with their tests. Once Trevor was settled in a room, she could probably slip away. The thought of leaving him in an unfamiliar, intimidating place all alone made her chest ache. She hated to leave his side at all, but was there any choice?
Her head began to pound. She needed to wrap up this job and invoice the client so that she’d have the check before the medical bills came. The hospital had made it clear that they would work with her, setting up a payment system by which she could pay the deductible and the twenty percent that was not covered by her insurance company. But she would be expected to pay something each month. She had to have the income, so she’d have to trust the nurses and hospital staff to look after him while she made the trip.
“I’ll find a way to get it to you,” she promised.
She thanked him and hung up, hands shaking as she replaced the receiver. The wall felt cool against her back as she leaned there, trying to gather the frayed ends of her wits and pull herself together. Things would work out. She’d messed up big time, but with a little quick thinking and some juggling, they’d get the project back on track and off the presses in time to salvage the situation.
She nodded her head and drew a deep breath, waiting for a feeling of relief or reassurance to come. It didn’t.
“Don’t think about it,” she muttered. She only had so much to give, and she had to carefully parcel out her time and energy. If she let it all bear down on her at once, she’d break. She couldn’t do anything about the disk until later. Right now, Trevor needed her by his side to comfort and reassure him when his sedatives wore off. That had to be her focus.
Shaking off her weariness, she headed for the recovery room where her little angel waited for her.
~ ~ ~
Trevor’s room was nice by hospital standards. The walls were painted a soft yellow with a deep gray-green stripe running the perimeter of the room at waist height. The curtains were the same pleasing shade of gray-green, and on the floor, accent tiles of the same color tied the scheme together nicely. The place was clean and well kept, showing little wear and tear, as if the room had been remodeled recently. A television mounted on the wall opposite the bed was tuned to one of Trevor’s favorite cartoons.
Despite the pleasant décor of the room, the place still felt sterile to Danielle. It lacked the personal touches of home—pictures, throws, toys, and clutter left by busy boys at play. She decided to get some of Trevor’s favorite toys and bring them to the room to make it cozier for him. And maybe a blanket and pillow for herself. The nurses had told her she could sleep in the recliner chair by his bed if she wanted. She didn’t see much choice. The drive home was too far, and a hotel room wasn’t in her budget.
The meal cart squeaked down the hallway and stopped outside the door. A smiling cafeteria worker wearing a hair net and latex gloves carried a tray into the room. “Dinner time. Anyone hungry?”
“Me!” Trevor leaned forward, reaching for the food.
She laughed. “I’m always popular on mashed potatoes and chicken day.” After rolling the portable tray table into position over the bed, she set his meal down.
Trevor smiled and reached for the fork.
“Guess we won’t have to beg you to eat, huh?”
With his mouth already full of food, he didn’t answer.
Danielle thanked the woman. “Trevor didn’t eat lunch. He was sedated for a procedure.”
She shrugged as if to say it was just part of the job. “If he’s still hungry when the meal is through, there are gelatin cups in a small refrigerator at the nurse’s station. Just press your call button and ask for some.”
Humming a cheery tune, the woman left them to eat.
Trevor glanced away from the cartoon show long enough to shovel a bite of mashed potatoes into his mouth. He seemed content, as if the day’s unusual events hadn’t bothered him too much. He’d always been a resilient child. She hoped his ability to cope would aid him now.
Danielle glanced at the clock for the tenth time in as many minutes. She couldn’t put it off any longer. If she hoped to make the two-hour drive and arrive at the print shop before eight, she had to go. But she hated to leave him. What if he needed her?
He needs you to pay for his treatment, she reminded herself. She was his mother, but she was also his provider. No one was going to pay the rent, buy groceries, and take care of the hospital bills but her. And she had to deliver the CD tonight.
“Trevor, I have to leave for a little while. Is that okay?”
He looked away from the television, his brown eyes questioning, but showing no fear. “What for?”
“I need to take care of a work project and get a few things from home that I forgot. Would you like to have your matchbox cars to play with here?”
He nodded. “And my puzzles?”
“The puzzles would be fun. We could do them on the tray table.”
Noise from the television drew his gaze away from her. The cartoon characters launched into silly antics, and Trevor’s giggles filled the room with sweet innocence. She bent and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll be back later,” she whispered.
She gathered her purse and slipped from the room before her willpower failed.
On her way out, she stopped at the nurse’s station and explained that she had to leave for a while. “Will you check on him and make sure he’s doing all right without me?”
They assured her they would look after him and take care of any needs that arose. The doctors and nursing staff had all been very kind to her and Trevor, and she knew he’d be well cared for. Still, each step she took away from him caused her physical pain.
Critical thoughts nipped her heels all the way to the parking lot. What kind of a mother leaves her child alone the first day in the hospital? If only there were two of her, one to be a mother and one to go and take care of the details of life. The thought opened the door to the voices of the past full of accusation and derision.
“A child needs two parents!” She could still hear her mother’s scornful words, see the self-righteous disgust in her eyes as she watched a pregnant teen laughing with her friends at one of Danielle’s high school functions. “What has this world come to?”
And the louder, angrier voice. “You’ll suffer for your sins and so will your bastard child. The way of the transgressor is hard!” Her father’s parting jab had haunted her for years. It twisted inside her now, digging sharp edges into old wounds and leaving her bleeding again. Anger swelled up, forcing back the hurt. You don’t need them, she told herself. Not their help, not their approval, and certainly not their self-righteous attitudes.
She did now as she’d done then. She slammed the door on the past and everything they stood for and moved on with her life.
The trip home was uneventful. Traveling at the close of business hours, she ran into some evening traffic. Still, she made good time. Dropping the CD at the printer took only a few minutes and was almost anti-climactic after all the stress and chaos that had preceded the event. Pulling into the driveway of her home, a sense of relief swallowed away her worries and concerns. They’d been gone less than a day and already she missed their happy hide-away. Here she’d found the peaceful home that she’d craved all her life. Here she’d known love, Trevor’s love, the abiding, unconditional love that she’d been denied in her own childhood. There really was no place like home—a real, loving home, at least.
A rank blast of air hit her when she walked through the door. What is that? she thought, putting a hand over her nose and breathing through her mouth. As she neared the kitchen, the odor intensified. Flipping up the lid of the trash can, she located the source of the smell. Meat wrappers from the burgers she’d cooked for dinner Sunday night. She’d forgotten to take out the garbage before they left. With the thermostat set on eighty degrees so the air conditioner wouldn’t run as much while they were away, the trash had ripened overnight.
“Phew!” She pulled her shirt up over her nose and fought back a gag as she hauled the stinky bag outside and put it in the trash bin.
Taking deep breaths of the salty breeze to clear the smell from her nostrils, she went back inside and turned on the air conditioning so the fan would circulate and disperse the smell. Thank goodness she’d come home so soon. If that had been allowed to sit for a few more days, how bad would the smell have become?
With the odor dispersing, she reviewed her mental checklist of things she needed to do during this stopover.
She turned to her desk and pressed the power button on her computer. Opening her e-mail program, she sent Janna an e-mail, asking her to wheel the trash bin out to the curb on Thursday. Her smelly house had reminded her that she’d forgotten to ask for help with that task. A second message went to Trevor’s guidance counselor, asking her to collect his homework assignments for two weeks. She planned to come home over the weekend to retrieve the mail from Janna and pay bills. She could get Trevor’s homework at the same time.
Her tumbling thoughts came to a sudden stop as she ran out of things to do. Was that it? Had she taken care of everything?
Yes. For now.
She leaned back in her desk chair and let the quiet of the house wrap around her. The silence was so loud. So absolute. It seemed strange not to hear video games bleeping or feet pounding through the house. Water running somewhere or cartoons blaring from the television. She missed him, his noise, his energy. Their home didn’t feel like a home without Trevor there.
A realization struck like a thunderclap. This is what her life would be like if she lost him. She’d been feeling sorry for herself all day. Worried about her business dealings, her obligations, her fears. In the process she was losing sight of what was truly important. What did it matter … what did any of it matter without Trevor?
Rising, she walked to his bedroom and gathered up some of his toys. After grabbing a few things for herself, she got back in her car and drove straight to the hospital.
She slipped into his room just before midnight.
He was asleep, a nightlight washing him in its soft glow. His creamy skin looked pale in the dim lighting, dark lashes fanning his smooth cheeks. The nurses said he’d been an angel all evening. He looked like an angel, but heaven couldn’t have him yet. Danielle wanted him here in her arms.
She bent and kissed him, then pulled the covers up to his neck and gently tucked him in. Tomorrow promised to be a long day as the battle against cancer began.
Chapter Eight
“Chemo is essentially a poison.” Sympathy laced Dr. Shanglin’s voice and compassion softened her eyes. “But in the end it’s the lesser of two evils. The trauma he’s experiencing now will hopefully produce good health later.”
Danielle blinked back a swell of tears. She had moved to the hall outside Trevor’s room to speak with the doctor about his severe nausea. “I’ve never seen anyone so sick. He’s miserable.”
Dr. Shanglin reached out and squeezed Danielle’s arm. “And watching him suffer is one of the hardest things you’ll ever have to do. You’re a good mother, Danielle.”
The words of affirmation warmed her, but they didn’t drive away the worry that swirled in her stomach.
“I’ll prescribe a different anti-nausea medication. Perhaps another one will alleviate some of his discomfort, but don’t get your hopes too high. The vomiting and misery are part of the process. I’m hopeful that in a few more days, we can take a break
from the chemo. It’ll get better.”
Danielle thanked the doctor for her time and watched her walk down the hall, into the room next door where another child lay sick and miserable. The hospital, which had once seemed a place of hope, now felt like a prison. Every child here was sentenced to suffer. Some would die. Desperate parents walked the halls and sat in the family lounges, worry and grief lining their faces. Each one had a story to share, some with less hope than a heart could bear.
Danielle had encountered a woman sobbing at the vending machines the day before. She’d reached out to the woman, asking if she needed help.
“There’s nothing more they can do for us,” she wept. “We just have to wait for the end to come.” She looked at Danielle, eyes wild with despair. “I’m going to lose my baby girl.”
Danielle held her hand and cried with her, all the while selfishly hoping that she would not be facing this same scenario a few months down the road. Even considering the possibility left her feeling fractured, disjointed, like her nerves were unraveling and the frayed pieces wouldn’t hold together much longer.
With a heavy heart, she returned to the room to check on Trevor.
The sour stench of stomach acids had replaced the clean antiseptic smell that had scented the room when they’d first arrived. Though Trevor tried to give fair warning when his stomach was about to expel its contents, she didn’t always get there in time. They changed his gown frequently and the bedding daily, but the smell had permeated the room anyway.
Trevor lay quietly on the bed, his eyes half closed.
“You doing okay, bud?”
His nod was barely perceptible.
Danielle collapsed into the chair by his bed, weariness crying out from every cell in her body. She was glad she’d slept well the first night of their hospital stay. After the chemotherapy had begun—and the vomiting along with it—she’d been on call twenty-four hours. The demands were taking a toll, lack of sleep being the least of her complaints. Trying to comfort Trevor in his misery and keep up with his needs drained her energy more quickly than running a marathon. Watching a child suffer and being helpless to do anything about it was pure torture.
