Chapter 11 #2
“Mira.” He sighed. “I’ve discouraged your mother from further treatment. I think it would be a waste of her remaining time to continue with chemo and radiation.” He paused, or maybe I just couldn’t hear over the rushing of blood in my ears.
“A waste?” Bile rose in my throat.
“It’s unlikely to make a difference, and with the limited time she has left, she’d be suffering unnecessarily.”
He’d gone on to explain quality and quantity, but he’d done it so many times in the past, I could probably recite his speech word for word.
“Oh.” It was all I could say when he finished. I’d known at some point they’d discourage her from continuing, but she’d proven them wrong so many times. I mean, she was still alive when they’d told me in no uncertain terms, she wouldn’t be.
“Mira, you should know she refused,” the doctor said pulling me from my thoughts.
“She did?” My brow tightened.
“She wants to continue throwing everything we’ve got at this. She’s a stubborn woman.”
I laughed at that even though there were tears streaming down my cheeks and there was absolutely nothing funny about the conversation.
“You don’t have to tell me that,” I croaked. “I’ve lived with her most of my life.”
“I’m so sorry, Mira.”
“Thanks, Dr. Baird.”
“I sent a referral for hospice, which surprisingly she agreed to, but only as long as I let her keep on with the treatments. The hospice normally wouldn’t take someone still doing treatments but since they’re unlikely to work, I sent the referral anyway.
Your mom wants to make things easier on you. ”
I huffed. “None of this is easy and it shouldn’t be. And easier for me would be not watching her suffer unnecessarily,” I choked out.
“I agree but…”
“She’s stubborn,” I finished.
“Anyway, I wasn’t sure what to expect from the hospice, let alone hear back so soon, but they agreed to take her, and they have a bed available right now.”
I glanced at the door to the house. It needed a coat of paint which reminded me the knob was also loose, and I needed to tighten it.
“Like now, now?”
“Tomorrow morning wouldn’t be too soon.”
“Does she know this?”
“The hospice contacted her before me.”
My knees went weak, and I plopped onto the deck stairs. “How long now? Until…” I swallowed hard. “You know.”
“Not too much longer. I know she’s proven us wrong a million times now, but I’m more confident than ever before we’re getting close.”
I broke down then. Sobbing like a child into the receiver, letting the doctor soothe me even though he probably had a million other better things to do.
“Mira, it’s okay to need help,” he said after I apologized for the tenth time.
And for the first time I believed he might be right. Standing on your own two feet, being a mature, fully functioning adult didn’t mean you had to do everything alone. Asking for help might even prove to be the most adult move I’d made in a long time.
The first thing I’d done was tell my favorite professor what was going on.
She’d scolded me for not telling her sooner, comforted me as I cried and then, Professor Stahlbaum helped me work within the parameters of my overcrowded schedule to keep up with my goal of graduating early.
And that helped make the load feel a little less overwhelming, at least until I noticed her exam was on the same day Mom was having the stent put in.
My leg bounced as I waited for the classroom to empty so I could talk to her privately.
Oh, I made myself look busy, collecting my things, packing them into my bag, checking my schedule, but really, I just didn’t want anyone to know I was staying back.
Not even my friends who knew what was going on in my life, which had been only Cleo until we’d ended up telling Silas after the schedule blunder.
As soon as the room was clear, I walked up to Professor Stahlbaum’s desk and fiddling with my hands, I said, “Excuse me, Professor?”
She’d looked up and smiled. “Hi, Mira, did you need something?”
I nodded shyly and asked if she still had my schedule on her tablet. She did and once she opened it, I pointed to the day of our exam.
“What’s this?” Professor Stahlbaum asked, glancing up at me.
“My mom’s having a stent procedure at the hospital,” I replied. “It falls on the day of our exam.” I gathered a breath as my professor took in my words, frowning.
“Can I do a make-up test?” I bit my lip, anxiety flooding my poor sleep-deprived brain. “I have to be there,” I said, tears starting to prickle behind my eyes. God, stress turned me into a toddler.
No one tells you how over-emotional you get when you consistently lack sleep and are put under prolonged pressure.
I’d almost cried earlier in the cafeteria when Cleo pointed out that my shoelace was untied.
I was carrying our food tray and was already crunched for time to eat because I had to finish a paper by end of day.
It seemed ridiculous now that the paper was done and I was in the calm assured presence of my professor, but at the time I’d been barely holding it together.
“Make up where?” Professor Stahlbaum asked looking way too empathetically at me. I was getting better at asking for help but sometimes it still felt like emotional charity.
“I’m free now, but we haven’t covered all the material in class yet.” I looked down, my eyes landing on my nails which at some point I’d chewed so much they’d bled.
“Okay, easy, hon. We’re going to work this out. I promise.”
I nodded and a pathetic tear dropped onto the tablet screen. “I’m so sorry this is making your life difficult.” I swiped away another tear. “You shouldn’t have to make accommodations for anyone. I’m nothing but a pain in the ass.”
“This is exactly the reason we allow accommodations in the first place, Mira. And did your mother tell you that?”
I didn’t answer because my mother had never said those words, but I’d felt them. I’d felt them every damn day knowing everything she’d sacrificed for me.
“It’s not true.” Her tone was stern. “You’ve never been a pain in the ass. You’ve never caused any trouble.” She released my arm and held up a hand to stop me before I could protest—even mentally.
“And I know you’re thinking I’m just saying that, or I just don’t know you well enough to know how much trouble you are, but trust me, it’s not true.
Your mind is messing with you, because I have no reason to lie and I have no obligation to help you, but I am.
” Putting her hand back on my arm, she squeezed.
“Because you deserve to be helped. You’re worth my time and effort. ”
I swallowed hard. How had she seen that I needed to hear that? That all the time my mother pushed, nagged and fussed had made me feel like I wasn’t worthy of her effort? That I had failed her so many times that I’d felt any help she offered was just wasted on me?
She looked at the calendar again, more determined than before. “Do you think you can concentrate during the surgery to do the exam?”
I nodded, feeling hopeful despite the tears streaming down my face. “I think so. I’ll be in the waiting room for a good portion of the day.”
“Can you video call me?”
“Yeah, I can do that. I’ll use earbuds and step outside if I need to. If I’m not too far, the nurses can grab me if they need me.”
“Okay I’ll give you a verbal exam…”
She went on to say more, but I didn’t really grasp much of it since the relief of solving the problem had me full-out bawling. I started rambling my appreciation next and somehow ended up in her arms being rocked.
“I haven’t really slept since the night you punished me.
I mean, a few fitful hours here and there, but that night was the only night I’d slept a full seven hours and woke feeling light and hopeful.
” There was that one other night, but that was my secret and my regret.
And it would remain buried inside me forever.
“A punishment can do that,” she said, and I nodded against her shoulder.
“I’ve considered doing scenes with Doms in the Dungeon for stress release, but I don’t want to explain what’s going on.
” I sniffed and hiccupped. “And if they don’t know and I freak out or break down, I won’t be able to explain myself, you know?
I need someone special who I can trust who can watch for physical cues, but I don’t have a significant other.
” I pulled back, my eyes swinging to hers, tears making her face more than a little blurry.
“Mira, are you asking me to give you a stress-relief scene?” She sat her hip on the desk.
I licked my bottom lip and looked away. Was that what I was asking?
I trusted Wes to know my body and it had worked perfectly, except scening with him came with too many other complications.
Complications that didn’t exist with my professor.
There was zero risk of falling in love with her that was for sure, and a good solid line I couldn’t cross becoming dependent on her as she was my professor.
She was also temporary—with a hard drawn line on the end date of our relationship—graduation.
And like the time she punished me for my late assignment, I could put this into a school necessity category—like tutoring, or a massage to relax me.
Yeah, this could work sans guilt.
“Would that be weird or inappropriate or whatever?” I asked, choking a little on my excitement. Grabbing a tissue off her desk, I wiped my face.
“No, it’s not like I haven’t punished you as my student. But we can talk to Master Derek, make sure he knows what’s going on and approves.” She tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, and it was such a motherly gesture, it cemented my decision to ask her for this.
“I don’t know where we’d fit it into your schedule though.”
“Can we talk to him now? I know I should be studying for the exam, but I can’t concentrate now anyway.”
She nodded, ran a hand through my hair and pulled me back for a hug.
“Let’s see if he’s available now.”