And then I see a body, a sick woman’s body.
My lackluster eyes travel over the gaunt image. I see translucent skin stretched thinly over my chest, every rib visible. I take in the skinny arms that hang by my sides, the wrist bones protruding grossly. I see breasts that are still full and round from pregnancy, although I wonder why I’m not engorged and hurting since I’m neither pumping nor breastfeeding. At least I don’t think I am. I can’t remember if I am.
Or maybe, considering my condition, I’m taking medicine that I don’t remember taking, to dry up my milk. Or maybe it’s a side effect of one of the other medications I’m on. At this point, I can’t keep anything straight.
Regardless, the one thing I do know is that I’m missing out on quite a few details of my life.
My gaze continues, on to the belly that is still swollen from pregnancy. I touch my stomach with trembling fingers, tracing the incision, pressing into the flesh above and below it. I feel the wave-like give of fluid just beneath the skin.
Ascites.
Despite the fact that my mind often swims with delirium these days, my years of nursing experience tell me what’s going on. Gathering of fluid in the abdomen is common in people with liver disease. And I have the ultimate liver disease—stomach cancer with liver metastases.
Warm tears leave wet tracks down my cheeks as I evaluate the rest of my body. Legs that I’ve always thought were a bit too thick are now thin, the skin hanging loosely around the insides of my thighs. I turn to one side and note the disappearing butt that I’d been self-conscious of once upon a time. Funny how that works, because now I’d give almost anything to have them back, to be that very healthy woman again. Not this…this…shadow.
I don’t know why Nate still looks at me as though I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. It’s far from true, and yet that’s what I see in his eyes. Every day.
Adoration.
Attraction.
Love.
Even through all of this, he’s my knight in shining armor. I always knew I had a good thing in him, but I might not have known just how good.
When I once again face the mirror straight on, I give myself one more head-to-toe glance. All in all, one thing is very clear. The aesthetics confirm the mental diagnosis that pops into my head. They’re as hard to think as they are to hear.
You’re dying, Lena Grant. And now you can see it.
A soft knock at the door causes me to jump. “You okay, baby?”
Nate.
I don’t know how to answer him.
With bitterness? No, Nate, I’m not okay. I’m dying, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it.
With pretense? I’m fine, babe. I’ll be out in just a minute.
Or with honesty? I’m not sure. I don’t even recognize myself anymore, and I’m afraid of what I see.
It turns out that I don’t have to answer him at all. When I don’t respond, Nate opens the door and pokes his head inside. I can tell by the look of alarm on his handsome face that he was half-expecting to find me dead on the floor.
The relief I see wash over his features tears at my heart.
“I’m okay,” I finally assure him, a wobbly smile tugging at my lips.
“What is it?” he asks, coming into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.
I start to cry. I can’t seem to stop the small mewling squeaks that wheeze past the tight knot in my throat. “I don’t even look like me anymore. When did this happen? How did I get here?”
“Oh, God, Lena!” he moans, dragging me against his chest to hold me close.
I know if he could, Nate would take it all away. That’s what his arms say every time they come around me. They say “I wish” and “If only” and “If there was a way.”
Only there is no way.
Not anymore.
“Where did the ‘blaze of glory’ go?” I whimper, losing the strength of will I’ve tried so hard to maintain.
Nate leans back and looks down at me with aching tenderness. “You did ‘blaze of glory’, baby. You’re still doing it.”
“N-no, I’m not. I failed.”
“You didn’t fail. You carried and delivered a baby while cancer ate away at your body. You’ve helped feed and care for her. You’ve given your husband hope every single day. You’ve laughed when you had every reason to cry, and you’ve gone out of your way to make sure the rest of us are okay when it’s you who you should be worried about. Lena, you’ve done ‘blaze of glory.’ No one could do it better.”
I’m distraught as I stare up into his eyes. “But look at me. I let it win, Nate,” I croak miserably. “I let cancer win!”
I can tell my words hit home. I can see the pain that he works so carefully to hide. Like the curved back of the Loch Ness Monster, it appears for just a few seconds before vanishing back into the murky depths from whence it came. To a place that only Nate can see.