—
We flew back to Jackson today, because Saylor has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. She told me this morning and she said it as if she didn’t care much either way. She then told me that she wasn’t planning on going, but now that things have changed, she needs to be there.
I know what changed, and the thought puts me back in my self-hating shitty mood, and that’s not a place I want to be. So I ignored her words and booked us on the first flight out.
I don’t want to hear the doctors remind her of what she already knows, but I’ll go because she asked me to, and every moment I’m with her counts. Even the bad ones.
I could tell she was nervous and when I asked her what was wrong, other than the obvious, she said this appointment would tell her how much the tumor had grown in the past thirty days. I could read between the lines. I knew that this would determine if the six-month mark would increase or decrease.
Saylor was devout in her faith, but she was also human. Knowing she was near death was good for me because I could make her life on earth whatever she wanted. But, for her, it was one step closer to the unknown. We could say we believe all day, but faith can only take us so far. At some point, our human brain tells us we are leaving the only thing we’ve ever known and it is up to a supernatural being to determine our afterlife. It’s not logical.
My best advice to Saylor when the time neared would be to not overthink it. It wasn’t original or inspiring, but it was the best I had.
—
I try to be in a good mood the next morning, but I fail. I do manage to make her smile when I bring her doughnuts, but even that isn’t enough to make this sick feeling in my gut go away.
Donnawayne and Jeffery wanted to go, but she asked them to stay behind. They respected her wishes and promised to be at her apartment when we got back, but Donnawayne’s hatred for me grew when he found out I was going. Oh well, he would have to get used to me or get the fuck over it. I wasn’t going anywhere.
When we are finally called into the doctor’s office, Saylor is placed into a CAT scan machine, and then we are ushered into a room to wait for the doctor. I thought it took days to get results back, but it seemed they didn’t want to waste any time. The thought was unsettling. But now, here we are, at the oncology clinic in a private room, and Saylor is performing her eye-closing, hand-touching, nose-sniffing ritual. When she is finished, she looks at me and smiles, and I smile back. I’ve gotten better at it and she likes it, so I’m sure I’ll be a professional at it in no time.
When the doctor knocks on the door, I stand next to Saylor and hold her hand, noticing the tension leave her shoulders at my touch.
“Miss Samson!” the doctor sings, and he is the happiest bastard I’ve ever met in my life. I wonder if he is putting on a good show or just a sick fuck who gets pleasure out of telling people they are dying. If it’s the latter, I’ll kill him.
“This must be Dirk.” He beams at me and sticks out his hand. Not wanting to be rude to the man that could potentially save the love of my life, I shake it. “Saylor has told me a lot about you over the years. I’m glad to finally see the two of you together.”
My eyes go to Saylor but she is avoiding my stare. Years? We’d been together weeks, not years. “I’m Dr. Beasley, the patient counselor.” His badge read clinic psychiatrist, but I guess that was more intimidating than counselor.
“I’ve known Saylor a long time.” He smiles fondly at Saylor, and I shift. I don’t like how he looks at her. Even though he is old enough to be her grandfather.
“What you got for me, Doc? I know they didn’t send you in here to say hello.” Saylor cuts right through the bullshit and I feel pride swell in my chest.
“No, they didn’t.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes and I know the news isn’t good. “Saylor, they want you to try chemo. Now, you know that won’t stop this, but they would like to see if it slows it down. It’s more advanced than what your mama had, but it still has some pretty intense side effects. The team is pretty sure you’re strong enough to handle it, but we understand if you don’t want to do it.”
“Why? How much more time would I actually get out of doing this?” Saylor seems almost angry at the thought of going through this, and I move my thumb over her hand. When she looks up at me, I smile. She returns it, but it’s weak.