Chapter 12
Today’s the day.
I feel like everyone I know has come with me to the hospital. Even if that’s not actually true, the fact that Errol flew in to be by Farrah’s side makes it seem like it is.
I know they think being here is bringing comfort to me, but it’s honestly the type of attention I don’t like. I just want to walk in by myself and call a cab after. If I honestly see one more person cry, I’m going to scream.
“How are you feeling?” Farrah comes to stand next to me while we wait to be admitted into a room.
“Stop asking me that.”
“Okay, fair. What do you want to order when you get out of surgery?”
“Mmm, hot wings and garlic bread. Or maybe a big ass bag of hot Cheetos. Both with some New York cheesecake.”
“Done,” she says, squeezing my shoulder.
The promise of good food is the first thing to perk me up today. She knows just what to say to make me smile.
“Monty Pierce?” The nurse calls out.
I raise my hand like I’m in school and then lower it, embarrassed. Walking in her direction, everyone trails me. Charlie and my dad both make it clear that they’re coming with me, making the nurse stop short.
“Oh, only one person can be in the room with her.”
The choice is obvious enough that my dad and I just start walking again.
Making him stand outside while I change, he comes in after and instantly holds my hand.
“It’s going to be okay, baby girl.”
“I know that.”
“Okay, good.”
My phone keeps buzzing with well wishes, so I turn it off. I press my head against the pillow and close my eyes.
Before today, I tried not to allow myself to think about the surgery, but sitting in a hospital room in a gown, I don’t have a choice.
I expected fear to be bubbling in my gut, but instead, everything feels settled with a finality.
No matter what I want, this is the end of my ability to carry a child.
I’ll never be able to be pregnant after this.
I bite my bottom lip and breathe out through my nose.
I don’t know if I’ll ever come to terms with that.
Some part of me will always ache for that lost chance.
But this ending is the beginning of my journey to healing.
After today, I’ll be one step closer to beating this.
I have to hold on to that silver lining and hope the weight of this storm doesn’t drown me, because what other choice do I have?
I chose none of this, but I get to decide how I move forward, and I refuse to let this define me, even if it has already shaped how I feel as a woman. That’s the last line I will let it draw.
So instead of dwelling any further, I shift to daydreaming about all the good things that will come after this.
I guess at some point it turns into actual dreams, because the next thing I know, a nurse is waking me up to ask a bunch of questions. For most of them, I have to look to my dad for help, feeling like not enough of an adult to do this. Which is why I put him in charge of my directives.
Once finished with the admin stuff, they let me know they will be back soon to get me.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for you to have a husband in here instead of me.”
“Well, I don’t think you have to worry about that for a while.”
“Still no progress with Charlie?” He rubs the scruff on his chin, his head tilted.
“No.”
“You would think this type of thing would be a clarifying moment.” He sits down in the chair next to the bed, still holding my hand.
I wonder if he has been holding it even when I was asleep.
“Clarifying how?” I ask, squeezing it harder.
“Well, when you’re faced with your mortality and an uncertain future, you really start to think about the things you want and need.”
I didn’t know what I wanted before this, but have my needs changed?
“I don’t think I have been faced with my mortality. I think I’m the only one who hasn’t thought of this as a death sentence.”
“Well, maybe that’s why nothing has changed.”
Is that it? Or am I so dense that I can’t even come to a conclusion when facing down a life-altering event? If I really thought I should be with Charlie, wouldn’t this have prompted me to take the next step? I mean, what if I do die in this surgery? Is this how I want to go out?
I suddenly have the strong urge to call him into this room and end things. The idea of dying in this in-between is unsettling.
I shake my head and rub my face.
“What?” My dad removes my hand and turns my chin so that I’m facing him.
“Nothing, just nothing.”
Saved by someone knocking on the door, I don’t have to answer whatever that was.
They are ready to bring me to pre-op, and this is the point where he can’t come. He follows me to the door, kissing my forehead before they start to roll me away. I look back to see his arms crossed with tears in his eyes.
I’m so checked out that I don’t even pay attention to everything they are doing. All I can do is try to remind myself that this won’t be the last time my loved ones see me. This won’t be my last chance to make choices for myself. I have to believe this isn’t the end of my story.
“Are you ready?” They ask, rolling me into the operating room.
“Do I have a choice?”
This gets a chuckle out of them, but I’m just stating the obvious.
The anesthesiologist introduces himself and then explains what is going to happen next.
I don’t care, I just want to be knocked out already.
My wish comes true, and soon my eyes are closing.
I try to go back to that dream about a brighter future, but all I can think about are the mistakes I might have made.
When I woke up, only my dad was there. He stayed with me the whole three days I was in the hospital. It wasn’t until he had to go get the house ready that he left me alone with Farrah.
“You can’t have sex for six weeks?” she asks while she lounges on the chair, eating my Jell-O.
I’m elbow deep in my bag of Cheetos, trying to erase the taste of hospital steak.
“I know, right, just when there is no chance of me getting pregnant.”
“How do you feel about that?” Finished, she tosses the empty packet onto the tray and picks up the tea she brought. Having gotten me a coffee, I gulped it down like it was water in a desert.
How do I describe the fact that the thing that bothers me most is that getting pregnant is no longer my choice?
Before this, I was unsure if I even wanted kids, and if I did, I thought I might adopt like Farrah’s parents.
I knew that at some point I would likely have them with a partner, and that seemed fine.
But with the option off the table, it’s like my life and my value have been limited by something outside my control.
I shrug, and she leaves it alone, but I can see the tears in her eyes that she is holding back.
When she sees that I’m full, she helps me get dressed and get into the wheelchair.
Just as we get downstairs, my dad pulls up.
It still looks like he hasn’t showered and barely slept, so Farrah promises to sit with me when we get to the house.
“I froze my eggs. It took half my savings, but I did it,” I tell her once we are alone.
“You know I meant it when I said I would be a surrogate for you.” Eyes still watery, she tries for a smile that doesn’t quite work.
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“Why not? I would love another reason to have Errol wait on me hand and foot.” Trying to make light of the situation, she finally gets her grin to stick.
“First, you don’t need a reason for that, and second, it wouldn’t be his kid, so why would he?”
“Because I’m his wife and it would be my godchild, and nephew.”
She pats my leg and gets up to refill my water.
For the first time in weeks, I feel myself getting ready to cry.
I don’t know if I tell her enough how grateful I am for her.
I don’t know what I would do if I had to rely on the men who can’t keep it together.
Even when she is fighting to stay composed, she doesn’t make it about her.
Speaking of one, Charlie knocks before promptly letting himself in.
“We really need to start locking the door,” I say.
He doesn’t seem to think that’s funny, not even lifting a corner of his lips as he comes to sit. Picking up my legs, he puts them on his lap and begins to massage my calf. It’s in that moment that Farrah walks back into the room.
She mouths, Do you want me to go? I shake my head, letting her know I would prefer if she would stay. Still not over my life-or-death revelation, a part of me hopes that it was just the panic that made me no longer want to be with him. Even still, I don’t want to be alone with him just yet.
“So Charlie, are you ready to focus on Monty?” Sitting on the ottoman, she crosses her arms. He looks between us to see if she is being serious. When neither one of us smiles, I can see the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.
“I have been.”
“No, you have been making this experience about you, when she needs you to be comforting her,” she continues.
I swear, Farrah would fight with a wall if it looked at her funny, but I can tell she is really fired up right now.
“I guess I’ll have to change that.” He looks at me, and I don’t give him an escape from the conversation.
“Yes, you will, or I will revoke your access to this house,” she says.
“I thought I could only do that,” my dad says, walking into the room more put together.
Charlie instantly stops touching me, like we’re in high school. Clearly, having overheard the conversation, my dad still looks less than impressed.
“I’m going to go get that cheesecake and hot wings,” Farrah says, standing. She motions with two fingers between her eyes and Charlie’s, making me laugh.
After giving me a kiss on the forehead, my dad leaves us alone again.
“What was that?” Charlie asks.
“What was what?” I ask, sitting up a little.
“What did you tell Farrah?”
“The truth.”
This seems to get him going, and I wonder why he is only showing this side now that they both are gone.
“And what’s the truth?”