Holding onto Hope

by Nicki Edwards

  Hope grimaced. Was it that obvious? ‘I’m not bored. I just need a project.’

  ‘You need a run. When was the last time you went running?’

  Hope shrugged. ‘Months. It’s been too cold.’

  ‘The weather’s perfect today. Almost spring. Go for a run.’

  ‘I was thinking I might, but I’m worried I’m so unfit I’ll die.’

  Courtney laughed. ‘Honestly, Hope, you are so funny. You have no idea how to take things slowly do you? Can’t you just go for a gentle jog and not treat it like you’re training for the Great Ocean Road marathon?’

  ‘Now there’s a project.’

  Courtney held up a hand. ‘No. Stop. You don’t need a project. You need to learn how to “be”.’

  Hope rolled her eyes. ‘Very zen of you, Court. But fine, if it makes you feel better, I’ll go for a run. If I don’t come back in an hour, send a search party in case I’ve collapsed.’

  ‘You’ll be fine.’ Courtney gave Hope a tight hug. ‘You know Lachie and I really appreciate all your help.’

  Hope waved her off. ‘I told you. It’s nothing. You guys would have been fine without me.’

  ‘Don’t speak too soon.’

  Hope borrowed Margot’s car and drove into town. When she saw Mitchell out the front of the animal hospital carrying coffees and a brown paper bag, she almost pulled over to say hi. The tug towards him was hard, but she forced herself to turn the car in the opposite direction and keep going. She’d promised they were still friends, but right now she had nothing to say to him that wouldn’t come across sounding bitter and hurt.

  Reminding herself he was taken anyway, she kept driving and headed down to the Esplanade, angle-parking in front of a grassy strip of parkland running parallel to the beach. The run would be a good way to remove all things Mitchell from her head.

  A young girl bundled up in a pink coat and red beanie frolicked on the play equipment at the waterfront park. At first, Hope couldn’t see the girl’s parents but then she spotted a young woman a short distance away, resting against the bonnet of her car. The woman was holding a camera and taking snaps of the girl.

  ‘Look at me, Mummy,’ the little girl called out.

  ‘Go, you,’ the woman replied with a wave.

  Hope skirted around the edge of the park to a bench seat overlooking the water. She’d barely started her warmup stretches when the little girl approached. It was impossible to miss the nasogastric tube snaking out of her nose or her pale, puffy cheeks. No doubt the red beanie hid a smooth, bald head.

  ‘What’s wrong with your leg?’ the girl asked as she sidled up to Hope. She couldn’t have been much older than four or five, but it was hard to tell. The sickness had changed her appearance so much.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Hope saw the girl’s mother head over. Hope gave the woman a friendly wave to let her know she wasn’t bothered by the little girl.

  Hope lifted her leg and waved it around. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my leg,’ she said.

  The little girl giggled. ‘Not that one. The other one.’

  Hope put her prosthetic leg up onto the seat. She had a silicone cover which looked as real as her existing leg, but she didn’t use that when she was running.

  ‘Oh, you mean this one?’ She wiggled it around. ‘This is my special leg.’

  The girl’s mother put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, as if ready to steer her away. ‘I’m sorry, Zoe talks to everyone.’

  Hope held out her hand. ‘I don’t mind in the least. My name’s Hope Rossi.’

  The woman smiled as she shook Hope’s hand. ‘I’m Michelle. And this is my daughter, Zoe.’

  As soon as she introduced herself, Hope realised she knew who Michelle and Zoe were, although she hadn’t met them yet. Zoe had recently had surgery at RCH the week before Hope left her job. If Hope’s memory was correct, Zoe would have recently had her first round of chemotherapy.

  Hope smiled at Michelle. ‘I worked at the Children’s. In Oncology,’ she added. ‘I’m a nurse.’

  Michelle’s brows knitted together. ‘Have we met?’ She shook her head. ‘Sorry. It’s been a whirlwind the past month or so and I’ve been introduced to so many people.’

  ‘We haven’t met,’ Hope assured her. ‘I’m not working there at the moment.’ Hope glanced at Zoe who was clearly still fascinated by her prosthesis. ‘How’s her treatment going?’

  ‘Run off and play, Zo.’

  Zoe obediently trotted off.

  ‘She’s beautiful,’ Hope said.

  Michelle stubbed the ground with the toe of her sneaker. ‘I’m glad you can see it. It kills me watching her change like this. She used to be so pretty and now look at her.’

  ‘What type of cancer?’ Hope asked gently.

  ‘Giant cell glioblastoma.’

  Hope’s heart sank. Rare. Aggressive. Nearly always terminal. ‘When was she diagnosed?’

  ‘Four months ago.’

  ‘How old is she?’

  ‘Five. Not that you’d know. She’s changed so much.’ A tear ran down Michelle’s cheek and she quickly brushed it away. ‘My hubby and I are aware of the statistics. Ninety percent of children with leukaemia will survive. Less than five percent with Zoe’s type of brain cancer will. We’re taking each day as it comes and praying for a miracle.’

  ‘We need more research,’ Hope agreed.

  Michelle pulled out a scrunched-up tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. ‘Thank goodness for people like Carrie Bickmore and all she’s done to raise awareness about brain cancer, but the reality is, it’s too late for Zo-zo.’

  Hope stayed silent. There was nothing she could say that would come close to bringing any comfort to Michelle.

  Conversations with parents about their dying children were never easy, not even for nurses. People often presumed death was commonplace for oncology staff and they were used to it, but the truth was, the medical and nursing team never got used to it, they simply learned how to handle it as well as they could. Hope had started her nursing career wanting to cure everyone’s cancer and had learned the hard way it wasn’t always possible to fix. Sometimes the best thing to do was recognise when enough was enough and let the child go. It was excruciatingly difficult.

  ‘What’s her treatment plan?’ Hope asked.

  ‘We’re taking a break while we make decisions about palliation.’ Michelle’s voice cracked. She exhaled softly. ‘They couldn’t get all the tumour. She’s had radiation therapy and chemo but it’s making her sicker. We don’t want to be selfish. As hard as it is knowing she’s going to die, it’s more painful watching her suffer. That’s why we’re back home for a while. She wanted to watch the whales.’

  Hope smiled. Everyone in town had been talking about the whales which usually made an appearance this time of year. ‘Have you seen them?’

  ‘Not yet. Hopefully tomorrow.’

  ‘How are you doing?’ Hope asked gently.

  Michelle stared out at the water and it was a while before she replied. ‘Some days I barely manage to put one foot in front of the other. Other days, like today, I force myself to get outside, for Zoe’s sake. We want her to feel like a normal child for as long as possible.’

  ‘That’s a good thing.’

  ‘There’s no time for sadness. If I let my mind go down that slippery slope, I won’t have enough energy left to focus on Zoe. I’m telling everyone—all our family and friends—to leave the sadness to the end because there’s going to be a lot of that. For now, we have to enjoy what we have while we have it. I refuse to worry about tomorrow. Instead, I’ll deal with each challenge that comes our way, one day at a time. Tomorrow will take care of itself.’

  ‘That’s incredibly brave,’ Hope said.

  So many families found it hard to grasp that sometimes further intervention would cause more harm, more pain and more suffering. It sounded like Michelle and her partner and their families had already had the difficult conversations about the futur
e.

  ‘At the end of the day it’s not about me. It’s not my life. It’s Zoe’s. We need to do what’s good for her, not for us.’

  Silence stretched between them until Zoe bounded over, her cheeks flushed from the cold air.

  ‘You didn’t tell me what happened to your leg,’ she said.

  Hope patted the timber seat beside her, and Zoe jumped up and sat between Hope and her Michelle, snuggling in under her mother’s arm.

  ‘When I was a bit older than you are, I had cancer too.’

  Zoe’s eyes widened as she stared at Hope’s face then back at her leg. ‘Did the cancer eat your leg?’

  ‘Yeah, something like that. And now I have this special leg, so I can walk.’ Hope leaned in close. ‘Actually, I have other legs at home, all different shapes.’

  ‘Wow,’ Zoe breathed.

  Hope pulled out her phone and scrolled through her photos until she came to the ones of her wearing her special running blade. She handed the phone to Zoe. ‘This one makes me go super-fast like a cheetah.’

  Zoe looked up from the screen, eyes wide and filled with wonder. ‘Like Dash from The Incredibles.’

  Hope laughed. ‘Yeah, like Dash.’

  ‘Does it come off?’ Zoe asked.

  Hope smiled. She loved how children were curious and asked such honest questions. If only adults were as unabashed as kids, it would have saved her a lot of discomfort since her amputation. Adults invariably got all awkward whenever they saw her missing limb.

  ‘It does come off.’

  Zoe slid off the chair, planted herself in front of Hope and put her hands on her hips. ‘Show me,’

  ‘Zoe,’ Michelle warned. She glanced at Hope. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. It’s okay. I don’t mind at all.’ Hope pulled her lycra tights up higher to her mid-thigh, revealing the vacuum liner that connected to the piston with a magnet. That attached to the metal component that joined the socket to the foot and shoe.

  Zoe took it all in, wide eyed.

  ‘You can touch it,’ Hope said.

  Zoe gingerly ran her hand over the hard shell.

  Hope unclipped the leg and passed it to Zoe, watching her face for her reaction, but there was nothing other than a typical child’s wide-eyed wonder.

  ‘Wow, that’s cool,’ Zoe said. ‘Does it hurt?’

  ‘Nope.’ Hope bent her knee and moved her stump up and down a few times.

  Zoe touched it tentatively. ‘Do you still have the cancer?’

  Hope hesitated. She needed to answer Zoe carefully. ‘There are all different kinds of cancer. Mine was called a sarcoma—I had a tumour in the bone in my leg. The best way to cut out the cancer was to cut off my leg.’

  ‘My brain has cancer,’ Zoe said matter-of-factly. She turned to Michelle, head tilted. ‘Mummy, if they cut out my brain, will the cancer be gone too, like Hope’s?’

  Tears filled Michelle’s eyes and she hastily brushed them away. ‘It’s not that easy, sweetheart.’

  Hope took her prosthesis back from Zoe and went through the process of slipping the liner on and fitting the leg back in place. She stood and stomped her foot to make sure the socket was properly on.

  ‘Do you want to go for a walk on the beach?’ she asked Michelle.

  Michelle hesitated. ‘It’s pretty cold. I always worry about Zoe getting sick.’

  ‘She looks rugged up to me and anyway, the sun is shining. It feels like spring is almost here today.’ She smiled. ‘Come on, the walk will be good for both of you.’

  Zoe looked longingly from the beach to Michelle. ‘Can we, Mum? We might see the whales from the beach.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Zoe squealed and took off and Hope and Michelle followed her across the sandy grass, through the dunes and onto the wide beach. The air was heavy with the smell of brine and the noisy sound of seagulls. The air was cold, and the sun kept ducking behind clouds, but it didn’t bother Zoe who ran in front of them, searching for shells among the seaweed.

  ‘How old were you when you were diagnosed?’ Michelle asked after a minute or so of walking in silence.

  ‘Seventeen.’ The memories flooded in like it was yesterday. ‘I was living in Africa.’

  Michelle’s eyes widened in surprise.

  ‘My parents work for a not for profit as aid workers,’ she explained. ‘One day I tripped and sprained my ankle. When it didn’t get better after a month and the pain got worse, my parents took me to the hospital.’ That hadn’t been an easy feat. The nearest hospital was a day’s drive away from the village where they lived. ‘Long story short, the only way to save my life was to take my leg.’

  ‘How awful. For you. And for your parents.’

  ‘Yeah, it was a tough time.’

  ‘You don’t bother hiding it,’ Michelle said, pointing to her leg.

  Some days Hope wore long pants but when she was running, it was easier and more comfortable to wear below the knee lycra leggings which meant the entire prosthesis was on display.

  ‘I used to hide it,’ she said, ‘but not anymore.’

  They talked for a few more minutes about Hope’s cancer struggle and the difficulties she’d faced after her amputation.

  ‘You’re inspirational,’ Michelle said. ‘I’m glad there are people like you working at the hospital. It must give such hope to the patients when they see you’ve survived. We’ve met the most incredible doctors and nurses.’

  ‘They’re amazing,’ Hope agreed. As she’d been talking to Michelle and Zoe, she realised how much she missed her colleagues and her job. Maybe she’d made a too-hasty decision to resign.

  ‘When Zoe was first diagnosed and I knew she’d have to have chemo, I was worried what people would say when they saw her bald head. I was scared they’d treat her differently because she has cancer. I’m glad she’s not old enough for school yet. It’s hard enough walking down the streets to the shops. People stare at the tube in her nose and I’m sure they wonder why she’s so overweight. It would have been brutal for her school friends to see her like this.’

  ‘People might stare, but I think you’ll find its more out of concern than curiosity. These days people without any medical background can spot a kid like Zoe and work out she has a serious illness. A lot of people would know it’s the steroids and drugs causing her face to swell.’

  Michelle sighed.

  Hope continued. ‘Some people might treat her differently and you can’t stop that. But you can teach Zoe to be as brave and strong as possible. Look at her now.’ Hope pointed. Zoe stood on the rocks, seemingly undaunted, staring at the waves which were crashing quite close to her. ‘She’s a little warrior, your girl. I can tell she’s got an adventurous spirit.’

  ‘Thank you. I needed to hear that. ‘Michelle lifted her camera and took some photos before turning back to Hope. ‘I’m glad we met.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Will I see you up at the hospital?’

  It was too hard to explain she’d quit her job. ‘When I’m back at work if Zoe’s up there, I’ll make sure I come and say hi.’

  ‘We’d like that.’

  They sat on the sand in silence.

  Hope watched the waves. Michelle watched Zoe.

  ‘Can I ask you a favour?’ Michelle asked.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘You obviously like running.’

  Hope nodded.

  ‘We’re doing a fundraiser for Zoe later this year. All she wants for Christmas is to swim with the dolphins at SeaWorld on the Gold Coast. The fundraiser was my husband’s idea. He’s a runner too. He thought we could put on a fun run and ask people in town to get sponsored for each kilometre they run. He’s aiming to run a full marathon.’

  ‘What a great idea,’ Hope said. ‘Count me in. I could do a half marathon. Where can I sign up?’

  ‘We’ve set up a website called Zoe’s Fight.’

  ‘I’ll look it up.’

  They chatted for a few minutes about the logistics of t
he run and how to promote it around town before Michelle stood.

  ‘Before you go, why don’t you go and stand on the rocks with Zoe and I’ll take some photos of the two of you together.’

  ‘Would you?’

  ‘I’d love to,’ Hope replied.

  Michelle showed Hope how to use the camera before clambering over the rocks to join her daughter.

  For the next five minutes Hope shadowed them, snapping photos from different angles. She wasn’t sure whether she was taking good shots or not, but surely one of the hundreds of photos she took would turn out well and Michelle would be able to look back on this day with fond memories.

  Michelle and Zoe stepped from rock to rock while Hope followed, slightly more cautiously. She had to watch where she put her feet and walking on the uneven surface of wet, slippery rocks took a bit more concentration.

  At the highest point on the outermost formation of rocks, Michelle pulled Zoe into her lap. Michelle laughed at something Zoe said, and Hope clicked a photo. When Zoe rested her head back against Michelle’s chest at the exact moment the sun burst through the clouds, Hope snapped another photo. She knew without needing to check the image that she’d taken the best photo of the day.

  She lowered the camera, smiled sadly, and sent a prayer heavenward that Michelle would remember this moment forever. After handing the camera back to Michelle and exchanging a hug, she headed into town.

  Chapter 15

  The intercom buzzed. ‘Hey, Mitch,’ Stephanie said, ‘Phone for you. Line one. A woman called Hope.’

  Mitch’s heart sped and his hand shook as he picked up the phone. Why was Hope ringing? Had she somehow already heard he’d called things off with Anna?

  ‘Hey. How are—’

  He didn’t get to finish his question.

  ‘Sorry to bother you. Can you get down to the Esplanade now?’ She sounded breathless.

  ‘Why? What’s wrong?’

  ‘An animal welfare lobby group is staging a protest. They’re trying to get the carriage horses banned because they reckon it’s cruelty to animals. A guy called Clancy asked me to call you.’

  He frowned. ‘A protest. In Macarthur Point.’ Surely, she wasn’t serious.