“When can I go home, Mommy?”
Cathy felt a squeezing in her chest. She shut her eyes for a moment against the blinding stab of pain. Her daughter didn’t often ask the question anymore. She didn’t know which was worse—for Chloe to ask or not. Cathy forced her voice to be matter-of-fact. “The doctor isn’t here right now for me to ask him. I’ll talk to him tomorrow and see, okay?”
“Okay.” Chloe sighed. After a moment, she raised her head so that her earnest brown eyes could meet her mother’s gaze. “I really wasn’t sick today. So maybe he’ll say I can go home.”
Cathy nodded, almost afraid to trust her voice. She made herself smile for her daughter’s sake. “I’ll be sure to tell him. I see that you’ve been coloring pictures. May I see them?”
As she had hoped, Chloe was diverted. Her daughter happily showed off her coloring book, chattering away. Before long, lunch was brought in for them. Cathy had requested a tray for herself before she had come to the room so that she would be able to eat with her daughter. She watched closely while Chloe picked at her food. She was glad to see that her daughter managed to nibble more than a few bites.
The precious time with her daughter passed all too swiftly. Cathy glanced up at the black hands on the large, round utilitarian clock on the wall. Reluctantly, she eased off of the bed and bent to settle her daughter. “It’s time for me to go to work and for you to take a nap, pumpkin.”
Chloe nodded obediently. Showing off her colored pictures and eating lunch had tired her. She yawned and held up her toothpick-thin arms for a hug, and Cathy gathered her close. “You’ll talk to the doctor tomorrow?”
“I will talk to him.”
“Promise?”
“Pinky swear.” Cathy kissed her tenderly and smiled down at her. Satisfied, Chloe nodded. She closed her eyes and burrowed into her pillow. Cathy smoothed the blankets up over her small shoulders. The stuffed, nearly hairless kitten shared the pillow. Looking at it, Cathy shook her head.
Cathy left the hospital room. As she gently closed the door behind her, she was approached by the nurse who had checked her daughter’s vital signs.
“Ms. Somerset, if I may speak to you for a moment.”
Cathy gave a friendly nod. “You’re new, aren’t you? I haven’t seen you before. Please, call me Cathy.”
The nurse nodded acknowledgement. However, her expression remained cool. “Ms. Somerset, I noticed that you gave Chloe some candy. I’m afraid it will probably make her sick to her stomach.”
Cathy gave a small laugh, preserving her friendliness in the face of the nurse’s stiff manner. “It probably will,” she agreed. “But Chloe loves Skittles and—”
“Ms. Somerset, we can’t allow you to deliberately give Chloe something that will make her vomit,” said the nurse firmly. “Please do not bring any more candy to her.”
Cathy’s eyes widened with shock. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her thoughts vibrated with amazed anger. “Regular food makes Chloe vomit. Water makes her vomit. It’s the chemo that makes her vomit!” Her shaking voice had risen by degrees, loud enough to begin drawing attention from others on the floor.
The nurse tightened her lips. “I must insist that you do not give Chloe anything else that is not specifically authorized by her physician.”
“Chloe loves Skittles,” Cathy stated emphatically. There was a deepening, clawing pressure building in her chest. Suddenly, desperately, she was trying to breathe.
“I understand, ma’am, but—”