So Much to Live For (8 page)

W
HEN Rob brought Katie to the house for dinner two nights later, Dawn asked her about Marlee’s treatment. She, Katie, and Rob were in the backyard gazebo eating watermelon, after Mrs. Rochelle had insisted that she and Mr. Rochelle could clean up the kitchen. As the three of them watched the sunset, Dawn broached the subject. “I’m just not clear on why a doctor wouldn’t operate on a tumor,” she said.

Katie didn’t answer right away. Dawn studied her for some hint of what she was thinking, but her expression was impassive. Finally Katie said, “Honey, I really can’t discuss the specifics of any case with you. It isn’t ethical.”

“Well, forget it’s Marlee. Let’s just say it’s anybody. Why not operate?”

Katie sighed. “There are lots of reasons doctors make the choices they do. Surgery is always risky. No doctor should put a patient through it unnecessarily.”

“But she—I mean, suppose a patient— has already been through it twice. Why not again?” Dawn asked.

“Sometimes chemo and radiation can do the trick.”

“Marlee’s had both before. Now, a tumor’s back. I remember when I had a relapse, the doctors suggested a bone marrow transplant.”

“You had a different type of cancer. A marrow transplant is effective in treating leukemia, but not others.”

Dawn felt she wasn’t getting any real answers. Exasperated, she blurted, “Is Marlee going to get well?”

Katie set her slice of watermelon onto the wooden steps and wiped her hands on her napkin. “I thought this was supposed to be a general conversation and not about Marlee’s case in particular?”

“You two aren’t arguing, are you?” Rob asked, glancing from one to the other. “I couldn’t stand having my two favorite women fighting with each other.”

Instantly, Dawn felt ashamed. “I’m sorry, Katie.”

“Oh, Dawn, I’m sorry, too—sorry that I can’t tell you what you want to hear.”

Even though it was difficult to make out Katie’s features in the gathering twilight, Dawn could sense the tension and uneasiness in her voice and posture. “I shouldn’t have pressed you. But how can I find out? Who will talk to me?”

Katie sighed. “Marlee’s grandmother is the only one, really, at liberty to discuss Marlee. It’s up to her.”

“But I hardly know her.”

Katie reached over and flipped Dawn’s hair on her shoulder in a gesture of tenderness. “I wish I could be more of a help to you, honey, but I can’t. I just can’t.”

* * * *

“Dawn? Is that you? What’s up?”

She’d spent an hour deciding whether or not to call Brent. Now that she heard his voice on the phone, she felt a rush of relief. “I–I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Never. I was under my car trying to fix something that’s leaking.” He paused. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, sure. I’m fine.” She sat on her bed. The lamp on her bedside table cast a warm yellow glow over the new bedspread she’d bought for herself.

“So you just called to hear my voice?” His familiar Southern drawl made her feel relaxed and calmer.

“It’s not me—it’s Marlee.”

“I got your letter saying she was in the hospital. Has something happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Dawn twisted the phone cord around her finger. “She’s still in the hospital, but I’m not sure what’s going on.” She let her frustration and concern spill out in a flood of words. “I just wish I had been able to sit in on the consultation with the specialist, then maybe I could understand things better.”

“Why?” He asked. “Why do you want to know?”

For a moment, she couldn’t answer. Why
did
she want to know? What business
was
it of hers? “I guess because she’s my friend.”

“You were her camp counselor, and you felt sorry for her, and you showed her a good time in spite of herself. But I never remember you telling me Marlee was your friend. Have you two gotten real close since she’s been in the hospital?”

Brent was asking a hard question, and she was at a loss to answer it. Rhonda was her friend and there were others from school. Where did Marlee fit into her life?

“I have lots of friends,” Dawn blurted. “Can’t I have lots of friends?”

“There’s nothing wrong with having friends,” Brent said cheerfully. “I was just asking if something had changed between you and Marlee.”

“I understand her better now.” She told him some of Marlee’s background. “I mean, can you imagine being the only kid in a house with a really sick grandmother all your life? She grew up awfully lonesome. She’s never made friends easily. And now . . . well now, it doesn’t seem like a whole lot’s being done about her cancer.”

Dawn felt her voice grow quivery, but she continued, “When I found out about my relapse, I got to be a part of deciding about the bone marrow transplant. All they’re doing for Marlee is some radiation and pumping her full of morphine.”

“Is that bad?” Brent wanted to know.

“It just seems weird to me. If all they’re going to do is radiate her, she could do it on an outpatient basis. Why does she have to stay in the hospital?”

“If her grandmother’s old and sick, maybe she can’t take care of her at home.”

Brent’s simple observation made sense and she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it. “Could that be all there is to it?”

“You can’t second-guess her doctors,” Brent said. “If you really want to know, you’ll have to talk to her grandmother.”

“Maybe I’ll have to.” They talked a few more minutes, and Dawn hung up with a promise to keep him informed. She paced the floor of her room. It was late, but she wasn’t sleepy. Questions and emotions kept whirling through her like a summer storm.

Why was she so entangled in Marlee’s illness? Especially when she’d once told Rob that she didn’t want friends who had cancer. But Brent was right. Marlee and she weren’t really and truly friends. Sandy had been her friend. Her
best
friend. The unbidden memory of Brent’s sister sneaked into her mind.
Go away!
she told the image. She didn’t want to think about Sandy now. She wanted to figure out what to do about Marlee.

Dawn finally fell into an exhausted slumber without one of her questions answered and without any of her ragged emotions settled.

* * * * *

Dawn got her chance to talk to Marlee’s grandmother the very next afternoon. She got off the elevator on the oncology floor and was walking past the activity room when she saw the elderly woman sitting in a lounge chair inside the empty room.

With her heart thudding, Dawn entered. Grandmother Hodges was lying back in the chair, her feet elevated, her eyes closed. Unsure if she were asleep. Dawn softly cleared her throat. The older woman’s eyes opened, and Dawn could tell she’d been crying. “I–I hope I didn’t disturb you,” she said.

Grandmother Hodges studied Dawn as if trying to bring her into focus. “Oh, yes,” she said. “You’re Marlee’s friend.”

“Yes, ma’am. I was on my way to visit her. How is she today?”

“Sleeping. It’s the pain medication, you know. It makes her comfortable enough to sleep.”

Dawn felt her mouth go dry. There was so much she wanted to ask, but didn’t know how. “Umm, she told me the specialist wasn’t going to operate.”

“No. They won’t be operating again,” answered the woman.

Dawn felt her knees tremble and her fingertips turn icy cold. “Mrs. Hodges, will you please tell me something? I’ve tried to get the answer from other people, but no one will tell me the truth.”

Grandmother Hodges’s face became a solemn mask. “You want to know if Marlee’s going to get well, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am. She really wants to go home.”

Grandmother Hodges sighed. Then she answered softly, “No, my dear. She won’t be going home. My poor baby is dying. She’s dying.”

D
AWN felt numb all over. She thought about screaming. She thought about running away. She thought about collapsing. But all she was able to do was stand, rock solid still, rooted to the floor. She wasn’t surprised about Marlee, not really. She realized that deep down she’d known the truth all along.

“Does Marlee know?” she asked Grandmother Hodges, who had begun to cry softly.

“No.” The old woman grabbed Dawn’s hand. “You won’t tell her, will you?” she begged. “Please say you’ll keep it a secret.”

“She’ll be able to figure it out. I know she will.”

“I want her to have her illusions as long as possible.”

Dawn thought Marlee should be told. She’d want to know if it were her. Dawn shuddered as she thought back to how sick she’d been after her transplant and how tired she’d felt. Even the act of breathing had been a chore. If it hadn’t been for Rob urging her on, she didn’t think she would have made it.

“Do Marlee’s doctors have any idea how long she has?”

“Evidently, there are tumors all inside her body pressing against her vital organs.” Grandmother Hodges’ voice caught. “It won’t be long.”

Knowing
the truth and
hearing
the truth were two separate things, Dawn decided. “I was on my way to see her.” Her lips felt wooden as she said the words.

“She loves having you visit her. Every evening she tells me about what the two of you did, and she tells me how she can’t wait to see you the next day.”

“Doesn’t anybody else come visit her?”

The elderly woman shook her head. “There’s no one else. I’m all she has, and she’s all I have.” Her eyes filled with tears and she fished a linen handkerchief from her lap. “Please excuse me.”

Dawn watched her weep softly. “I should go in and see her now.” Still overcome, Grandmother Hodges nodded. Dawn slipped out of the room and headed down the hall. She forced herself not to cry. It wouldn’t be good to go into Marlee’s room crying. As she passed the nurses’ station, Katie caught her eye.

Quickly, Katie came around the desk and took Dawn’s arm. “You’re pale as a ghost. Are you all right?”

“I just talked with Marlee’s grandmother.” Katie nodded, and Dawn added, “She told me everything.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything the other night.”

“It’s okay—really.”

Katie gave her a quick hug. “You’re a very special person, Dawn. I’m so glad I know you.”

Dawn hugged her back. “You, too.”

Dawn put a smile on her face and swung into Marlee’s room. “Ready for a game of Monopoly? This time,
I
get to be the banker.”

Marlee was propped up. Her skin had a yellowish cast, and her face looked pinched with pain. “It’s about time you came,” she said crossly.

Ignoring her tone of voice. Dawn asked, “Are you okay?”

“I hurt.”

Dawn motioned toward the morphine pump. “Isn’t it working?”

“I’m trying not to use it so much.”

“Why not? You should—it helps you.”

“It makes me groggy and sleepy. I hate sleeping so much.” Marlee shifted in bed and grimaced. “Will you open my blinds? I want to see the sunlight. Grams always closes them, and I hate lying here in the dark.”

Dawn opened them and immediately the room was filled with a wash of summer morning light. “Is that better?”

“Yes.” Marlee did appear more relaxed, so Dawn brought her favorite chair over to the bed. “I don’t feel like playing a game,” Marlee confessed.

“What do you want to do?”

“I hate it here. I want to go home.”

“But you can’t leave today.”

Marlee turned her body toward Dawn and winced. Dawn clenched her fists, but otherwise tried not to react to the pain. “I don’t like the way they treat me here.”

“How’s that?”

“They’re keeping secrets from me.”

Dawn’s heart gave a little lurch. “Oh, I don’t think—”

“Yes, they are. I can tell. Grams is always whispering to the nurses. And my doctors hardly visit anymore. They’ve even stopped taking me down to radiology.”

“Marlee, after you first got admitted, you were complaining about
too
much medicine and
too
many visits.”

“It’s different now.”

Agitated, Dawn got up and walked to the window. Staring out at the bright blue sky, the memory of Sandy stole over her. Sandy who always knew what to say. Who always knew how to be kind and understanding. If only Sandy were here now.

Silently Dawn pleaded,
Let me say the right things to Marlee. Please let me say the right things
. She turned back toward the bed, resting her weight against the sill. “This is a big hospital, Marlee,” she said. “You’re not the only sick person here, you know.”

“You think I’m terrible for complaining, don’t you?”

Marlee’s voice sounded so small and miserable that Dawn hurried to her bedside and took her hand. “Of course, I don’t.”

“Do you like me, Dawn?”

“Like you?”

“Are we friends? I–I want you to be my friend.”

“Why would I come here all the time if we weren’t friends?”

“I guess you wouldn’t.” Evidently, another spasm of pain went through Marlee, because she gave a slight cry.

“Don’t try to be brave,” Dawn urged, her insides feeling like twisted knots. “Friends can’t stand to see their friends hurting.”

Marlee reached over and adjusted a knob on the morphine pump. Moments later, the look of pain eased on her face. Her ragged breathing became more even, and her body relaxed on the bed. With eyes closed, she said, “I’m such a loser.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I never fit in anyplace. Not at school, not at camp, not at home.”

“But your grandmother loves you very much. I can tell.”

“I know she does. I hardly remember my parents. Mostly in the pictures Grams has of them. Sometimes I wish I had a mother to be with me. Grams and I did all right together, but still . . .” Marlee’s eye closed, and for a moment Dawn wondered if she’d drifted off to sleep. “Poor Grams. If only I hadn’t gotten sick. Why’d I have to get sick, Dawn?” Marlee asked in a whisper.

Unshed tears clogged Dawn’s throat. Why didn’t she have any answers? “It’s not your fault, Marlee. Nobody gets to pick what happens to them in life. Things just
happen
. We have to keep going on, no matter what happens.”

“This stuff is making me tired,” Marlee said, motioning toward the pump. “Will you stay with me until I go to sleep?”

“I’ll stay,” Dawn told her.

“I will get to go home, won’t I, Dawn?” Marlee’s voice faded off and she fell asleep.

Dawn slowly extracted her hand from Marlee’s fragile grasp. She was grateful that she hadn’t had to answer. Dawn knew she couldn’t have lied to the girl about her going home. She sat for a long time beside Marlee’s bed and watched her sleep. Later, when she was certain Marlee wouldn’t awaken, Dawn left the room to call Rob to come and take her home.