“Why aren’t you working?” was how she answered the phone, “what’s wrong?”
“Why does there have to be something wrong?” I asked, trying not to sound freaked out.
“Cause you don’t call me during work hours. You call me after for cocktails or to come and chill with you, so this is something. What is it?” She didn’t have much patience at times. She wasn’t rude, just over protective.
“Gran’s in the hospital, and they aren’t saying much. She’s been spaced out all day, and I can’t get her to talk to me. Doctors are doing tests and stuff, but it doesn’t sound good.” I tried to hide the fear in my voice, but she knew. She always knew.
“I’m coming over right now. What hospital?” As soon as I answered, click. The phone went dead.
She got there in record time, panting and sweating when she reached the lobby. I loved her. I knew she adored my grandmother as much as I did. Ambling in a few paces behind her was Ricky, my next-door neighbor. He moved in a few years ago with his husband. While his hubby spent most of the day at his job, Ricky worked from home, which meant he was always available for a cup of tea and lively conversation.
“Hey, Cat, cavalry’s here,” he said with a big hug.
“Alright girl, where are these no-good doctors who can’t tell you shit about Gran? I’ll get them doing their jobs, no good, overpaid…” She was pretty fired up.
I tried to calm her down. “I think they’re doing their best, Tam.”
“Ain’t good enough.” She was ready to march down the hall when Gran’s doctor, Dr. Pushkin, walked into the lobby.
My heart sank. This was gonna be very bad if they’d had to call him in. Mondays were his day off. Dr. Pushkin had been Gran’s doctor for as long as I could remember. She had high blood pressure, and had been diagnosed with breast cancer seven years ago. They caught the cancer in time, cut it out, chemo’d the shit out of it, and it was officially gone nineteen months later.
Gran had gone in for scans every year after that, with nothing showing up. Since she was a stubborn little lady, she stopped the scans last year, saying she was too old to know, good or bad, she just wanted to enjoy her life. Somehow, she had convinced me that was okay. Now, I regretted not tying her up and dragging her ass to the appointments.
A middle-aged man in his late fifties, Dr. Pushkin always struck me as being mousy and small. It seemed strange that he was such an authority on medical matters when he was so light and wispy looking. While I should never judge anyone’s abilities based on their looks, the painter in me just saw him as an odd character. His temperament was always gray, regardless of the circumstance. He delivered news — whether good or bad — in the same monotonic manner. This time, his usually bland expression had a darker, more foreboding, quality. One I knew held the worst of all possible news.
I stood up to greet him, and he breathed a heavy sigh, another sign that danger lurked ahead. He waved for us to sit down as he pulled up a chair next to me.
“Caitlyn,” he started, “please be seated.”
I sat down silently.
He cleared his throat as if he were about to deliver a death sentence.
“I’ve had the chance to look over your grandmother’s preliminary tests, and I’m waiting to hear back from the oncology lab, but based on the MRI and CT results, it looks like your grandmother’s cancer has returned. I believe that it has possibly metastasized into the lungs and brain. She’s showing overall body weakness at the moment, diminished mental capacity, and limited lung function. The scans are indicating that there are several dark masses in both her brain and lungs, as well as other areas of her body. As I said before, nothing is definitive until I am able to see the oncology report.” He paused, waiting for this news to hit me like a freight train to hell.
“Oh,” was all I could muster.
Luckily, Tammy had more of her wits about her than I did.
“So, what are our next steps? Does she need chemo again? And when can we bring her home? I’m sure she would prefer to have her treatments at home.” Tammy had her iPhone out and was ready to tap out notes or anything Dr. Pushkin said that I definitely would never remember.
“I can’t say too much at the moment, only that we will be keeping her overnight and monitoring her progress. I’m sorry, but we can’t release her until I feel she is well enough to be at home on her own. Caitlyn, I know you live with her, but she might need twenty-four-hour care at this point.” His grave expression casted a dark shadow over the entire room.
Ricky sensed what the doctor was saying — he had seen this kind of transition happen with all four of his grandparents. First, they started to show signs of age and illness, then the slow slide into eternity.
“Can she have a home nurse when you’re ready to release her?” he asked kindly, trying to brighten the mood.
“Based on what we’ve seen in the past from patients and the fact that Eula is a breast cancer survivor with possible metathesis in both the lungs and brain, I may be inclined to recommend out-of-home hospice care for her,” he said matter-of-factly — like he was reading ingredients in a recipe.
I gasped for air as tears pressed against my eyes, the corners of my vision growing dim. I stared at Dr. Pushkin’s face, the tiny withered features that constructed his countenance all seemed wizardly to me, like a dark magician who had cast a horrible spell on the one person I loved most on Earth. My heart felt like it was gripped in his claws, pierced by the talons protruding from them as he watched me bleed out on the lobby floor. I could barely breathe, and what felt like hot lava burned down my face. I wanted to be strong but had no strength.
Tammy put her hand on my knee, giving me a sad smile.
“Thank you, Dr. Pushkin,” Tammy said for me, keeping herself calm and polite in contrast to the mess I was beside her. “We appreciate any updates you might be able to give us, as soon as you know. If for some reason, we are at the hospice stage of Ms. Darning’s life, she will have it at home. We won’t be considering any out-of-home care, now or anytime in the future. I hope this is perfectly clear. Is there any way we can see her now?”
“She’s still resting, but I don’t see why you can’t visit with her for a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” I rasped.
“I’ll be in touch with you tomorrow, Caitlyn, to give you my update.” I dreaded anymore news, so I just nodded as Tammy and Ricky shuffled me down the hall toward Gran’s room.