Chapter Twenty Breaking Point #2
“Did you drop her off at the apartment or at the church?” Evie glanced at her watch. It was almost dinner time, and she was planning to stop and grab takeout on the way home.
“She wanted to go home and lie down.” Tommy’s amusement faded as he saw how annoyed Evie was.
“We dropped her off a little over two hours ago.” He draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a brief hug.
“Come on, I’ve got some homemade tomato basil soup warming up on the stove, and I was about to make some grilled cheese sandwiches for supper.
Let’s get something warm in your belly, and you can bring some home to your mom. ”
Evie hesitated. She had been keeping up with her coursework for the most part, but she still had a lot of work to do. Still, homemade tomato basil soup and grilled cheese sandwiches were very tempting.
“Yeah, that sounds great.”
**********
Riding up in the elevator to her apartment, Evie checked her phone again, wondering why her mother hadn’t responded to her texts or returned her calls.
She had been sleeping more than usual lately, eating less, and had lost some weight, but Evie had chalked it up to depression.
She’d suggested a doctor’s visit a couple of times, but Della had brushed her off.
Opening the door to the apartment, Evie looked around but didn’t see her mother anywhere. “Hey, Mom!” she called, setting the Tupperware bowl on the small table next to the door as she took off her jacket and hung it up. “I brought food if you haven’t eaten yet.”
There was no response, and Evie sighed. Her mother’s jacket and boots were in the closet, so she was home, either choosing not to answer, which, given the day’s events, was possible, or still sleeping, which meant she’d been asleep for close to five hours if she’d lain down right after Tommy dropped her off.
Walking down the hall, she paused outside her mother’s room and listened for a second before she knocked. “Mom?”
There was no answer, so Evie opened the door just enough to look in and make sure Della was asleep and not simply ignoring her while praying. She wasn’t in bed, but Evie almost staggered back as the stench of alcohol and vomit hit her.
“Mom?” Gagging, Evie walked in slowly, afraid of what she might find. Peering over the side of the bed, she found Della lying on the floor in a pool of vomit, a large bottle of vodka practically empty beside her. “Oh God - Mom!”
Running around the bed, she dropped to her knees and hesitantly reached out, picking up Della’s hand and feeling her wrist for a pulse. Finding one, she breathed a shaky sigh of relief and reached up, shaking her shoulder. “Mom? Mom, wake up.”
There was no response. Evie pulled out her cell phone with trembling hands and dialed 911.
The dispatcher walked her through placing Della in the recovery position and stayed on the line until the ambulance arrived.
The EMTs told her they would take her mother to Mount Sinai Morningside to have her stomach pumped and get her stabilized.
As Evie followed them out of the apartment, she called Tommy, who told her he and Thorn would meet her at the hospital as quickly as possible.
Evie rode in the ambulance with her mother to the hospital, watching anxiously as the EMTs monitored her vitals and answering their questions about her drinking and general health as best she could. Upon arrival, Della was taken away, and a man approached her.
“Miss Stanley? My name is Giles Booth; I’m a Patient Relations Manager for the hospital. Would you follow me, please?”
“Where are we going?” Evie fell in step with him automatically. “Is my mom okay?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t have that information.” He gave her a practiced, sympathetic look. “Tommy Sloane called and asked that we look after you until he arrives. We’ve prepared Consultation Room Three for you.”
“Oh.” Evie swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, affection and gratitude for Tommy welling up inside her. “Of course.”
He led her past the emergency room, down a short hall to a door, which he opened for her. She walked in and found herself in a small, dim room with a loveseat and a table covered in old magazines.
“Mr. Sloane said he would be here within an hour. Can I bring you anything?” he asked as Evie made her way over to the sofa and sat down.
“No, thank you.” She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“If you need anything, just let the nurse at the reception desk know.” He inclined his head slightly and left, closing the door with a gentle click.
**********
Evie sat in the room, staring at her hands, wondering how she had missed the signs that her mother was spiralling so badly, and why she hadn’t thought to check in sooner when Della didn’t respond to her texts or calls earlier.
She wanted to excuse it, to say that her mother had been so consistent in her delusions and day-to-day life, and that she herself had been busy with her final year of university and her project, but she knew she had been distancing herself because she was struggling to accept this new version of her mother.
The door opened, and Tommy rushed in, closely followed by Thorn, both of them looking extremely worried.
“Evie!” Tommy crouched in front of her, cupping her cheeks in his warm hands. “Are you okay?”
“No.” The tears that hadn’t come all day finally spilled over, and she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Tommy’s neck and pressing her face into his shoulder.
“Oh, Princess.” Tommy wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back soothingly. “I’m so sorry. I should have stayed with her.”
Evie shook her head, tightening her arms around him. “No, you couldn’t have known. She’s been sober for a year. I haven’t seen any signs she was drinking again, no hidden bottles, no smell of alcohol. And she was terrified of going through detox again. Apparently it was very painful.”
Tommy let her sob quietly on his shoulder until the tears ran out and when she let him go he sat next to her on the loveseat. A tissue appeared in front of her, and she looked up to see Thorn standing beside her, a sad look in his eyes.
“Thanks.” She took the tissue from him as he sat beside her on the armrest and blew her nose, leaning her head against his arm. “She must have gone to the liquor store a few blocks away after you dropped her off.”
Seeing the guilt cross Tommy’s face again, she reached out and squeezed his arm.
“Tommy, seriously, don’t blame yourself.
You said it yourself: she seemed like she was handling everything.
She was making petty, passive-aggressive jokes, which is apparently on brand for her now.
” Evie rolled her eyes, feeling anger swoop through her stomach.
“I can’t believe she would be so selfish!
” The words burst out of her as she got to her feet and began pacing the small room.
“We just finished Dad’s memorial! I wasn’t happy to meet his new wife either, but here we are!
” Evie threw her hands up in frustration.
“Why not finish this stellar day by spending the night at the hospital so my mom can get her stomach pumped?”
A large hand wrapped around her upper arm, halting her pacing. She swallowed, guilt crashing through her as she realized she was angry at her mother when she was lying in a hospital bed. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Thorn’s eyes.
“You are right, Mali?a, it was very selfish.” Thorn’s voice was quiet.
“But your mother is a selfish, attention-seeking woman. Maybe not by nature, but by the circumstances of her life. She has been in the background, married to a man who did not see her as a separate person, yet replaced her the first chance he got. Her daughter is beautiful, resilient, capable, and brilliant. You love her, but you do not need her. You will thrive and be successful, with or without her.”
He pulled her gently against him and hugged her. “Have you ever heard the saying ‘once a man, twice a child’?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Evie shook her head, Thorn’s agreement making the anger drain from her body.
“It means that, as we age, we revert to being children. Our physical and mental capabilities decline; we need caretakers again, and our bodies and egos become fragile.” He leaned back and gently tilted her face up so she would look at him.
“She had a temper tantrum, Mali?a. And the best and easiest way to prevent future tantrums is to ignore the actions and focus on the emotions behind them.”
“Okay.” Evie took a deep breath and reluctantly stepped back from Thorn. “I can do that. She was acting out like a child, so I’ll treat her like a child.” She looked at Tommy.
“What happens now?”
“We let the doctors do their job and wait,” Tommy said quietly. “Then, when we have answers, we make a plan.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when there was a soft knock on the door and a young man in scrubs entered. “Evelyn Stanley?”
“Yes.” Evie turned around immediately, and he opened the folder in his hand.
“I’m Dr. Grunwald, the ER physician in charge of your mother’s case. We were able to successfully pump her stomach and stabilize her. She’s currently sedated and resting comfortably in the ICU. You can see her in the morning.”
“Thank you.” Evie breathed a sigh of relief.
“Were you aware that your mother has colorectal cancer?” He closed the folder and held it in both hands in front of him, his eyes flicking between them.
“Excuse me?” Evie stared at the doctor and felt her legs give way. Thorn quickly caught her and helped her to the loveseat while Tommy took over the conversation.
“What does that mean exactly?”
“According to her medical records, the mass was discovered during her detox admission last year. They advised her to follow up with an oncologist, but there’s no record of her doing so. Since it wasn’t mentioned when she was admitted tonight, I assumed you were unaware.”
He looked down at the floor, rocking on the balls of his feet for a moment.
“While it didn’t directly cause the cancer, your mother’s alcohol use helped create the conditions that made it more likely to occur.
Long-term use affects the body’s ability to absorb nutrients, especially folate, which helps repair DNA.
Alcohol inflames the intestines, damages the lining, and alters the balance of bacteria that protect the colon.
Together, these raise the risk of mutations that lead to cancer. ”
Evie swallowed, the anger at her mother flaring to life again. “Because why the hell not? Of course, she has cancer and hid it from me. Why would I need to know, right?” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and holding her head in her hands. “Jesus Christ, what a mess.”
“Evie…” Tommy murmured, placing his hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. “I’m sorry. It’s been a … trying day.”
“Honestly, if this was the reaction I got every time I deliver this type of news, I’d be thrilled.” Dr. Grunwald waved off Tommy’s apology and moved over to the table, sitting on the edge. “I know this isn’t what you expected to hear, but there’s more we need to go over. Is now a good time?”
Evie huffed out a short, dry laugh and looked up at him. “Might as well. If she’s unconscious, I can agree to whatever course of treatment’s needed.” She sighed. “How long has she had it?”
“Because she hasn’t seen an oncologist, I don’t have an exact idea,” the doctor explained.
“I’ve ordered tests and arranged for our oncologist to review the results to determine the timeline and how much it’s spread but based on what the detox physician noted last year, I’d estimate two to three years. ”
“Two to three years?” Evie looked at Tommy and Thorn in disbelief before turning back to the doctor. “How could we have missed it for that long?”
“Colorectal-cancer symptoms are easy to miss. They’re often dismissed as food intolerance, a stomach virus, or hemorrhoids,” he said. “Her sobriety would have made many of the issues fade. And if she didn’t want you to know, she would have hidden it all.”
That made her feel slightly better, knowing it wasn’t something she should have noticed, and she nodded. “So, what are her treatment options?”
“I won’t have an exact answer until I get the test results, but if the detox center was correct that she was in stage III last year, she’s likely late stage III or early stage IV now.
” He gave her an apologetic look. “Normally the treatment would be surgery to remove the tumor and surrounding tissue, followed by several months of chemotherapy. Your mother’s health make those options extremely unsafe.
She may not survive the surgery, and her liver is too damaged to handle chemotherapy.
To be blunt, treatment wouldn’t save her life, it would only extend it by a few months, and she’d be very sick the entire time. ”
“And without treatment?” Tommy’s hand tightened on Evie’s shoulder almost to the point of pain as he asked the question she was dreading.
“If my estimates are correct and she’s at the end of stage III, she has twelve to twenty-four months.” He looked at Evie, and she could see genuine regret in his eyes. “The remaining options are palliative care: medication to manage symptoms and pain and making end-of-life plans.”