Chapter 6 Antonia
Antonia
Nothing about what I’d heard, about what the doctor had said, made any sense to me. Miri was sick, and in my heart of hearts, I knew there would be no magical cure for what she had. My brain said otherwise while also screaming, Why and how?
Why was this happening to her? She was the kindest, nicest, loveliest person I knew.
She didn’t wish harm on anyone, even if they’d scorned her.
Miri never said a bad thing about those types to anyone, except to me, but I was her best friend, her confidant.
I’d never betray her, and people should be allowed to vent their frustrations.
How was this happening to her? How had her system gotten so horribly bad, without her or her doctors noticing?
Cutter’s voice rang out in my mind . . . The last couple of months, she hasn’t been feeling well. She had a cough and said it was nothing, but she seemed very tired.
Was it only the last couple of months that she hadn’t been feeling well? Did she not prioritize her health? Of course she had. Miri would never do anything to put her babies in harm’s way or to not be with them. They were her life.
Miri quieted in my arms. I was afraid to move out of fear she would start up again, and rightly so. She had the right to cry, to sob, to scream if she wanted. I suspected the anger would come next, and then the denial.
I held Miri tighter, wishing like hell I had the right words.
Everything failed to make sense in my mind except my need to fight.
To fight for Miri, for Cutter, for Nova.
Even for myself. I had to be the one to step up and make sure Miri got the care she deserved.
And believe me, she deserved the best there was.
I needed to call Brendan—there was no way I was leaving Miri—and he’d have to accept that I was going to be working from home. Regardless of whether it was from Grove Hill or Boston, I wasn’t leaving her side.
After a knock at the door, a nurse entered Miri’s cubicle. “Hi, Miriam. I’m going to run an IV and take some blood.”
“What’s the IV for?” I asked as Miri sat up and gave her arm willingly.
“Pain meds, if needed. And fluids. We want to keep her as hydrated as possible. Over the next hour or so, others will come in to talk about your options. Dr. Frederick will be here shortly to meet with you and go over a treatment plan.”
“Are you in pain?” I asked Miri.
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Wouldn’t her illness cause her a lot of pain?” I asked the nurse.
“Yes, but sometimes the brain blocks the pain receptors. It’s not uncommon or unheard of, but now that she knows . . .” The nurse trailed off.
This wasn’t happening.
“I need to go call work,” I told Miri. “Be back in a minute.” I excused myself while the nurse inserted the IV, then walked out of the room and went to the end of the hallway, barely able to keep my tears at bay.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I pressed my mom’s name on my phone and held it to my ear.
“Hey, honey.”
“Mama . . .” It dawned on me that I only ever called her “mama” when something was wrong.
“It’s cancer, isn’t it?”
I couldn’t keep it in and let the gut-wrenching, heartbreaking sob loose. I couldn’t inhale enough air to keep from hyperventilating. My howls were loud and matched my mother yelling my name on the other end. Finally, I rested against the wall and slid to the ground.
“She has cancer.” I finally said the word through a barrage of hiccups.
“Okay,” she said. “Cancer is treatable, Antonia. I know it’s hard to hear, but it’s something people can and do survive these days. They’ll take her into surgery and remove the cells, and then she’ll start treatment. Miriam is a fighter. She’ll come out on top.”
If only it were this easy.
“It’s all over, Mama. Everywhere. In her colon, breasts, and pancreas.”
“Wh-what? How?”
“I don’t know. Most of this is a blur . . .”
“The kids.”
“They don’t know. I . . .” I cleared my throat, not that it did much to remove the rock that had formed there. “I drove up yesterday when she called to tell me she was sick, and stayed with the kids last night. Cutter knows something’s up, though.”
“Wait, did she know?”
Did she?
“No, I don’t think so. I don’t know.”
Now, I didn’t know what to believe. Would Miri lie to me? To the kids?
I couldn’t fathom it.
“I can’t lose her, Mom.”
“I know. You won’t. I’m on my way. I was going to wait until after rush hour to leave, but I’ll leave now.”
“We’re at the hospital. Fifth floor.”
“Where are the kids?”
“At school. I’ll be here until Nova’s out of school. Cutter has basketball practice, so I have a little time there.”
“Call your sister.”
I closed my eyes and nodded. “I am. I know oncology isn’t her department, but she’ll know what to do. I want to bring Miri to Boston for treatment.”
“That’s smart. I’ll have your dad reach out to some friends too. He must know someone at Dana-Farber.”
My father was a retired firefighter and was well known among most of the emergency services in Boston. He had friends everywhere, and it was likely someone owed him a favor or two.
“Call Isabella. Make sure I’m on Miriam’s visitor list. I’ll be there shortly.” Mom hung up, and I sat there, as if I expected her to call back immediately, which was silly. I knew she’d be leaving as soon as she spoke to my dad.
I pulled my phone away from my ear and sent a text to my sister, who was a nurse: I need you to call me when you have a chance. It’s not urgent, but it is. Miri’s sick, and I need advice.
My next call went to Brendan.
“Hey, please tell me you’re on your way back.”
“Miri has cancer, Brendan.”
I was met with silence.
“Brendan?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I’m just . . . ‘sorry’ doesn’t seem like the right thing to say. What can I do?”
“I’m going to need time off,” I told him. “At least until I can figure out how we’re going to proceed.”
“Well, it’s obvious she’ll start treatment right away.”
“It’s all over, Brendan. Her blood work showed metastatic cancer in multiple organs.”
“How the fuck? How did we not know this? Wouldn’t she have been in pain? Sick for months?”
“I don’t know.”
Brendan groaned, and I imagined him running his hand over his face. “I’ll cancel dinner with my parents this weekend and come up.”
“Thank you, but hold off. My mom’s on her way, and we need to tell the kids and figure out our next steps.”
“You don’t want me there?”
His tone caught me off guard. I frowned and closed my eyes. “It’s not that, I just need a couple days, Brendan. Thank you for offering.”
Brendan sighed deeply before replying. “Yeah, okay. Let me know.”
“I will—”
Brendan hung up before I had a chance to finish my sentence. I chalked his dismissive attitude up to being busy and feeling unwanted. His love language was . . . well, I wasn’t sure. It could be he didn’t have just one and genuinely embodied all five of them.
On my way back to Miri’s room, I stopped at the nurses’ station and gave them my mom’s name: Carmela Bernardi. Once she arrived, she would take over. That was her nature.
I stood outside Miri’s door and battled my inner turmoil. I needed to go in there and be her happy-go-lucky best friend who grabbed life by the horns and didn’t back down from anything, instead of the best friend who was dying on the inside at the thought of losing her.
Miri needed me to be strong, to be her rock.
Before I crossed the threshold, Dr. Frederick walked toward me. “Can we speak for a moment?” I asked him as he neared. He nodded, and I motioned for him to cross the hall, away from Miri’s room.
“Give it to me straight,” I said bluntly. “Is she going to survive this?”
His expression told me everything I needed to know. He couldn’t mask the inevitable.
“How long?”
“It’s impossible to predict exact timings,” he said. “It could be weeks or months. It all depends on the treatment plan. I’ve given her the options. Aggressive is the way to go, and we’ll monitor the response.”
I nodded and wiped my fallen tears. “I want to take her to Boston. It’s where I live, and the hospital there—”
“I remember,” he said. “There isn’t a doubt it’s the best in the world. I had my staff send her records to my colleague there for a second opinion, per your earlier request. As soon as she calls, I’ll let you know.”
“Oh. Okay, thank you.” His statement caught me off guard.
“You’re welcome.”
“She’s my life,” I told him before he could walk away. “We’ve been friends since we were three, so almost our entire lives.”
“She’s lucky to have you.”
I shook my head. “You don’t get it. I’m lucky to have her, and I can’t lose her. Miri’s my constant. I can’t tell you the last time I bought something, like shoes or a suit, that she didn’t approve of. Everything I do has her stamp of approval.”
“I do understand and know this is going to be a challenging hill to climb. She or you should probably call her family.”
“Wait, why? Can’t she go home?”
He looked over his shoulder. “The chemotherapy protocol we’re recommending is extremely aggressive. It will compromise her immune system significantly, and we need to monitor her closely.”
“She can’t stay here!” I snapped. “Miri has two kids. They need her.”
I need her.
“I understand. Once we see how she responds and establish her baseline, she can receive treatments as an outpatient and be home with her children between sessions.”
“How long would she need to stay here?” I asked.
“Initially, a week to ten days. Then treatments every two weeks as an outpatient, assuming no complications.”
“Right. I’m sorry for snapping. I’m frustrated and—”
“I get it. Go be with your friend,” he said. “As soon as I hear from my colleague, I’ll be in to talk with Miriam.”
“Thanks.”
Dr. Frederick nodded and continued down the hall. I supposed it was best he didn’t tell me what the fifth floor was for when I asked. But Miri had to have known.
I went into her room without knocking. She was on her side, staring out the window.
“Did you know?”
“What?” she asked as she looked at me.
“Did you know you were sick?”
She shook her head and closed her eyes.
“Cutter said you hadn’t been feeling good and were tired a lot. Did you know you were sick, Miriam?” I hadn’t meant to raise my voice, but the anger, hurt, and fear I felt came out in a rush.
“I didn’t know, but I thought something was wrong.”
“Why didn’t you go to the doctor sooner?” I asked as I sat down by her bed. I reached for her hand and held it tightly in mine.
“I had the appointment scheduled and didn’t think . . .” She trailed off. “I didn’t know I had a lump in my breast,” Miri said quietly. “I checked all the time and didn’t know.”
“It’s not your fault. This isn’t something you could have prevented or caught earlier,” I said, nodding.
“We’ll figure it out. We need to talk about your treatment.
Dr. Frederick says it’s going to be an aggressive plan, and you’ll likely have to stay in the hospital.
I’ll take as much time off as I have to, and my mom is on her way.
He also sent your paperwork to Boston for a second opinion.
Miri,” I said softly, “we have to tell the kids. This isn’t something we can hide from them. ”
Miri nodded as tears filled her eyes.
My own tears flowed.
“I think you should start your treatment now, even while we wait for the second opinion. The faster we fight, the better the chance, right?” I hated suggesting she stay in the hospital, but there wasn’t another choice.
“Okay,” she said weakly, almost like she’d already given up.
I looked around her room. “We need to get you a private room. Somewhere where Nova can hang her artwork, and the kids won’t worry about interrupting anyone else if they put another patient in here.”
“I don’t know how to tell them.”
I smiled softly. “I don’t think there’s an easy way. Cutter’s smart; he’s going to know something’s up when he comes home from practice and you’re not there. When my mom gets here, I’ll leave her with you, and I’ll go get the kids.”
Miri nodded.
“We’ve got this,” I whispered to her. “We’re the strongest team out there, right?”
She nodded again, but her eyes looked empty. I prayed Miri hadn’t given up the fight before she had even started.