Chapter 12. When It Rains, It Pours, and Sometimes All You Can Do Is Dance in the Rain
When It Rains, It Pours, and Sometimes All You Can Do Is Dance in the Rain
The next Monday, I donned a new sterile mask as I walked into the dialysis center. I signed my name on the guest register, greeted the nurses on duty, then went to find my grandfather.
A dark-haired, brown-eyed woman dressed in a white coat stopped me in my tracks. “Are you Thomas Halim’s granddaughter?”
“Yes.” I shook her hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before.”
“I’m the new nephrologist here, Dr. Nguyen. Can we have a word in private?” She held up her palm at seeing the crease in my forehead. “Nothing serious, don’t worry, but I do need to discuss something with you.”
I followed her into a small office at the back. Taking a seat in one of the metal chairs in front of her desk, I folded my arms in my lap, trying not to show my nerves. “Is he okay?”
“He is. Thomas had his blood and urine tests last week, which is something we regularly do for all our patients to monitor their kidney function.” At my nod, she continued, “The results came back fine, so we know his dialysis sessions are working well to remove waste from his body. But his hemoglobin levels aren’t where they should ideally be, which means your grandfather has anemia.
It’s one of the most common complications for people receiving hemodialysis. ”
I tensed a little. Anything with the word “complication” in it couldn’t be good.
“At this stage, his numbers are borderline, so it’s nothing to worry too much about.
But if left untreated, it can develop into severe anemia, and with dialysis patients, it can increase the risk of developing heart problems. I’ll prescribe some iron tablets, but he needs to pay closer attention to his diet.
Make sure he eats more iron-rich foods to help boost his hemoglobin levels.
Until then, you might notice him getting tired easier and having very low energy. ”
My heart dropped as fear—and guilt—slammed into me. Was there something I could have done? I was the one helping him with grocery shopping and meal planning, but maybe I should have taken extra steps to make sure he was eating healthier.
My grandfather had been the picture of perfect health when I was growing up. He wasn’t a smoker, nor a drinker, he exercised a few times a week, and his idea of a snack was an apple or a bowl of edamame. On paper, he was the last person you’d imagine being diagnosed with chronic kidney disease.
But he did have high blood pressure running in his family.
His parents had it, so did his two brothers, and Opa himself was diagnosed in his thirties.
The solution would have been straightforward enough: He’d been prescribed some tablets to keep his blood pressure under control.
But—as I’d learned later—he’d been too busy focusing on working and raising his young family, especially being a first-generation immigrant in a foreign country, that he had neglected taking his medication regularly like he was supposed to.
It had taken a toll on his kidneys, which had finally given up not too long ago, necessitating the thrice-weekly dialysis sessions to keep him alive.
“One last thing. I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but it was recently announced that the insurance co-pay is projected to go up by at least six percent next year. I thought I’d flag it for your attention so you can prepare your finances accordingly.”
Fantastic. What was that saying again? When it rains, it pours?
I thanked her, then walked out to find Opa. Ann, one of his regular nurses, was chatting with him as she helped him stand up from his chair.
“There she is!” She beamed at me. “Thomas is ready to go. Just letting you know, his blood pressure is a tad low, and he says he feels a bit dizzy. Make sure you keep an eye on him for an hour or so until he feels better.”
“Will do.” I held one of Opa’s arms to support him. “See you on Wednesday.”
Opa shook my hand off and slowly ambled toward the front door. “I can walk by myself,” he grumbled. “How far is the car?”
“Parked right outside. You sure you don’t want my help?”
I received a grunt in response, but I knew better and let it go.
The fact that my affable grandfather was often grumpy on dialysis days hadn’t escaped my notice.
He never said anything, but I knew he still hadn’t fully accepted how his survival now depended on a machine taking on the role of his artificial kidney.
He’d complained once that it had felt like a prison sentence, because his previously active life had been reduced to sitting in a chair for five hours, three times a week, for him to be able to continue living.
I’d heard stories from Ann. About other patients in the center who’d had enough and decided to stop the treatment, then sadly passed within a few weeks.
Because the heartbreaking fact of the matter was Opa’s life—and those patients’ lives in the center—depended on these sessions.
Forgoing them would be akin to choosing to end their lives.
And one of my biggest fears was for Opa to one day realize that he didn’t want to keep on doing this anymore and decide to give up altogether.
Dr. Nguyen’s words rang in my ears as I started the car.
Opa was the only family I had left, and I couldn’t bear the thought of a world without him.
I knew he wouldn’t be here forever, but while he was still here, I had to do everything in my power to make sure his medical needs were being met, including making sure that he was safe financially, enough to be able to keep doing his dialysis treatments.
And if I needed any reasons to fight for the store, this would be at the top of the list.
“Thanks for taking the time to be here, everyone.”
“Appreciate you organizing this, Kim,” Melly said. “I nearly had a heart attack when I got the letter.”
“I’m not selling to Goodwin,” Anahita immediately said. “Fucking greedy developers. They’re not taking my store away from me. Not even when hell freezes over.”
I’d gotten in touch with other business owners in the precinct, and some of them had agreed to meet tonight.
Ellie, who had offered to host the meeting at her bakery, walked out of the kitchen and placed a tray of freshly baked goodies on the table.
“I made some low-carb chocolate brownies and cupcakes. Help yourselves.”
“Oh! I nearly forgot.” Quinn, who had just opened their artisanal coffee shop a few months ago, reached for a large paper bag at their feet and took out two six-pack cases of retro-looking glass bottles. “I brought some banana-flavored lattes, our café’s specialty.”
Melly raised her eyebrows. “Banana and coffee? What does that even taste like?”
“Trust me, they’re good.” Melody, the owner of a K-pop album and merchandise store next to Quinn’s coffee shop, grabbed one and twisted the cap open with more enthusiasm than necessary.
“I had my doubts when Quinn first told me about it. But they convinced me to take one sip, and the rest is history. It’s now one of my favorite drinks. ”
“This would be perfect for the Knotty Tea Society,” I said. “They’re always looking at trying new drinks, so if you want, Quinn, I can recommend this to the members.”
They beamed at me. “That would be awesome.”
“Hey, Anahita. I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Melly said. “How’s your daughter doing? I hope she’s still not upset because of your dickhead partner leaving.”
The other woman blew out a long breath. “She was miserable the first couple of weeks, but we got through it. Nicole gave me a knitting kit for kids, and it was wonderful, because my daughter really got into it, and it helped us to bond and take her mind off things. I can’t thank you all enough for your support. ”
“Sorry I’m late, sorry!” Selma rushed into the store, her long hair wildly flying as she took the last seat next to Nicole. “Did I miss anything?”
“Got here just in time.” I smiled at her. “Now that everyone’s here, shall we get started?”
Seven pairs of eyes focused on me.
“As you all know, Goodwin Property Group is offering to buy the buildings on the strip with the plan to demolish them all and build a new high-rise. The antique shop owner next to Selma’s bookshop has already said yes, and since Goodwin already owns some of the shop fronts, the renters of those stores will have no choice but to vacate and move their businesses elsewhere. ”
“My boss said he’s also thinking of selling,” Selma said. “He said there’s no profit in selling secondhand books and he’s better off taking the money from Goodwin. And if he’s selling, then I’ll be unemployed, and the job market is tough as shit these days.”
“Same. My landlord told me yesterday that they’re thinking of selling, too.” Quinn made a face. “I’ve only just moved in a few months ago, and now I’ll have to find another place.”
“I took the liberty of reaching out to Jacqui Goodwin.” Ellie swiped open her phone and scrolled through her email.
“This is her reply: ‘I understand that the proposal concerns the livelihood of many business owners, and that the precinct holds sentimental value for a lot of people, but the project isn’t entirely within our control. It’s a collaboration between Goodwin and the local government, and the city is investing a substantial amount of capital in the development. ’”
“I’m still on the fence whether to sell or not, to be honest.” Melody gave us a sheepish smile.
“The demand for K-pop things isn’t as high as it used to be.
I could take the money and start something new elsewhere.
Maybe even find a spot at the Plaza, if there’s any availability, since it’s gotten very busy since the renovation. ”
“You won’t be the only one thinking that,” Selma said. “The Plaza is the main draw. The rent here might be cheaper, but if people were given the option between leasing a space here and at the Plaza, most would choose the latter.”