CHAPTER 20
LUCY
I woke up unsure of where I was. My mouth was dry and I had blankets wrapped around my shaking body.
“Mom?” I saw a blurry woman with blond hair.
“You'll see your mom soon, Lucy. Your surgery went very well.”
“Dr Fallon?”
“Yes, you've had your surgery. Everything went well. I was able to keep your uterus so if you chose to have children you can. Dr Lynn will let you know the pathology report when she sees you in two weeks.”
“Okay.” I garbled. My mouth didn't feel like my own.
My eyes drooped and my body was pulled under. The world went black again.
◆◆◆
“Christ, when is she going to wake up already?”
“Sarah, don't fucking blaspheme we are in a religious hospital.”
“You only go to church during the holidays, Mom. What do you care?”
“Stop talking so fucking loud. I'm trying to sleep.” I mumbled. Voices around me so fucking loud I wanted to shout, but my mouth felt like lead. My lips stuck together, my tongue like sandpaper.
“There she is!” Sarah started to rub my shoulder.
“Am I dead?” I felt stiff as a board.
“Almost girl, you've been asleep for hours. I guess you're not handling the drugs that well.”
“Oh.”
“Go back to bed, Honey. We'll be here.”
“I'm not staying. She is going to sleep all freaking night now.”
◆◆◆
The sun peaked through the blinds in my room directly into my eyes. I took a deep breath and covered my face with my arms.
I felt like I got run over by a truck. I vaguely remember people checking in on me throughout the night.
Changing the bedding when there was too much blood, rolling me on my side when I had no control of my own body.
Uncle Buck playing on a loop on the television.
But after that, it was a blur. I took a mental note of how I was feeling.
Stiff, druggy, exhausted, groggy. But not bad.
Not bad. I smiled. Not bad at all, truck aside. I made it just fine. I wanted to shout.
“Good morning, Sunshine.” Sarah was sitting in a corner chair by the head of my hospital bed reading on her kindle and sipping a hot coffee. The smell permeated the room.
“Sarah? How long have you been here?” The coffee smelled disgusting.
“I relieved your mother at seven a.m. thank you very much.”
“Did she watch me all night?”
“Like a mamma bear.”
“I told you guys you didn't have to do that.”
“Lucifer, you lost so much blood they had to call the surgeon back just to make sure your shit wasn't tearing apart.”
“They did?” I couldn't believe I slept through it, but maybe it wasn't voluntary.
Sarah nodded and kept reading her book. “They changed your diaper like twenty times, big nasty clots. Even then men nurses saw your hoo ha.” I'm sure she was worried, but I'm also sure that the few hours she has had alone were probably her first since Paulie was born.
She was reveling in the fact that no one was asking for a snack or trying to burn down the house, her mood was good.
“Well, I feel...not dead. I guess that's good. Was the male nurse at least hot?”
“Your mother clutched her pearls at the sight of him. He was probably the most gentle she said. Those women are rough, rolling you from side to side like a bleeding burrito.”
I stretched, but then felt like it wasn't the best idea. The girdle they had on me was so tight I felt the pull in my skin.
“Oh, thank you for the flowers.” A beautiful bouquet shined in the corner. Bright pinks and oranges and purple looked so cheerful.
“Mmm hmm.” She didn't look at me.
“It's huge, how much did you spend on it?”
“Oh, don't worry about that, just rest.” She went back to reading.
“Sarah.” I knew she was full of shit by her lack of eye contact and refusal to say something sarcastic like “much more than you're worth.” about the price.
“Hmm?” She smirked.
“These are from him, aren't they? I told you not to tell him anything other than I was OK and now you let him know what room I'm in?” I was pissed.
“Oh, get over yourself. How dare you be upset that a beautiful man bought you flowers.”
“You don't get it.” I couldn't look at her.
“I will never get it! But I'm not getting into it with you right now.”
“And why is that?” I found some water on the nightstand and sipped it.
“Because Mommy told me I couldn't.”
◆◆◆
The Surgeons office waiting room was packed. A little girl was mashing her potato chips into the carpet as her mother was listening to a book. I was standing so an old woman could sit and there were hockey highlights on the TV. Of course.
I thought of something else and tried not to listen.
I made it a point to not watch Sasha's games.
I couldn't bare the thought of him being aggressive on the ice because of me.
It was too much, even though I knew it was selfish.
I loved him and he loved me and yet I forced us apart.
I just couldn't deal with the continued pressure of his career.
What would he have done if I told him I was scared and hurting?
Was he supposed to hop on a plane every other day and miss games left and right?
And what was the alternative to that, him feeling guilty for not doing those things?
This was the best solution. Even if I felt guilty for being so relieved. The pressure of hockey was off my back. My privacy was my own again, my life was my own again.
It left me all the time I needed to concentrate on my front. I was walking and going to the bathroom just fine, but the incision wasn't a walk in the park. I used a girdle for support and wasn't even allowed to drive.
“Lucy Walton?” The triage nurse escorted me into the office.
“Step on the scale please.”
I didn't look because the scale and I never seemed to be on the same side. I could feel my best but weigh my most, so it just didn't matter to me.
“You've lost seven pounds since your last visit.” The nurse informed me.
“I did?” That seemed like a lot.
“Well, she took a lot out of you. The Doctor will be right in. Your gown is there.” She took her clipboard and left.
I changed and waited.
Then waited.
Then waited again.
“Lucy? Hi, sorry for the wait we are swamped today.
Oh, you're looking great. You're wearing pants!
That's a good sign.” Dr Lynn was a beautiful brunette with a cheery disposition.
And without her can-do attitude I would have probably gone on suffering.
She was the first gynecologist that made me feel my heavy flow wasn't normal. I repeat, not normal.
“Thanks.”
“Let me take a look at you here.” She sat on her rolling chair and lifted up the gown to see my incision.
There were no visible stitches, but apparently nylon chord used on the inside that would dissolve over time.
I didn't have the stomach to look at it, but I did cringe a little when Sarah showed me a picture of it.
My skin looked like it was folded in on itself, something I was assured would flatten out over time.
“That looks great. How does it feel?” Her eyes brightened.
“Just tight, but I'm not complaining.”
She took some iodine and wiped it clean. That part felt weird as I still had some numbness, but not bad.
"I think you're on the road to recovery. I have the pathology reports and they came back fine. No cancer. The big fibroid weighed a pound and a half and they took out thirteen all together.” She handed me a piece of paper with the information on it.
“Wow, that is a relief.” I took a long deep breath I didn't realize I was holding.
No Cancer. Everything was out. I got to keep my uterus. All was going to be OK.
“You can drive. I want you to start really walking. No sex or work until the six-week mark.” She gave me a look that told me she was serious.
“OK, great. Thanks so much.” I ripped the paper gown off with such relief after she left the room, slowly put my pants back on, squared my shoulders and was ready to get my life back.
My mom was waiting in the parking lot and I was thankful I could tell her that I was driving. She was the worst. Literally swerving from side to side.
“No cancer.” I giggled, euphoric once it finally hit.
“YAY!” She giggled and clapped and I even saw moisture gather in her eyes.
I was lucky, grateful, ecstatic and all the other words in the thesaurus that meant happy.
I was happy. But at my happiest moment all I wanted to do was text Sasha.
The thought hit me straight in the chest. I wanted to tell him so badly, but I couldn't. It would open up Pandora's box.
A box I needed closed for a while. I could only handle one crisis at a time.
“You feel up to driving?”
“Yup.” I smiled and turned over the engine and drove back to her house.
“I made egg salad for sandwiches for lunch.”
“Thanks, Mommy.”
I walked slowly, tenderly, up the stairs and into my childhood home.
Pictures of my father hung on the walls like the house was a giant shrine to him.
My mother and father were the definition of love, she never moved on from him.
It was both beautiful and tragic. His coat was still in the closet, his ash tray in the middle of the table filled with Wurther's caramels.
I unwrapped one and placed it in my mouth. “How old are these? Am I going to get sick?” I was about to spit it out.
“Oh, I don't know, you'll be fine.” She pushed a strand of hair out of my eyes and placed a sandwich in front of me.
I was ravenous after being unable to eat with fear.
“Are you going to Paulie's game tonight?”
“Of course. I missed the last two, I'm not going to disappoint him further.” I sipped at the hot chocolate she made for me without even asking.
“I'm glad you're enjoying hockey again. It seems good for you. Really brings out the best in you.” She sat down next to me.
Brings out the best in me? She was talking about anything but hockey. She was talking about Sasha. She was just trying to be slick when she sucked at it.
“No mom, I'm not talking about him.” I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Well, why not?” She folded like a cheap umbrella.
“You and Sarah are the worst! I'm an adult and you need to stay out of it.”