Three
Lily
Sam: Where are you???
Before I can shoot her a response, she sends another text message.
Sam: I’m at your house.
Me: Why? Aren’t you supposed to be in class?
Sam: I’m done for the day... Mom. Besides you and I have a date with greasy food and Pride and Prejudice, back 2 back. I need my Mr. Darcy fix.
I laugh to myself.
I send Sam a quick text saying I’ll see her at the house soon. She replies with an emoji sticking its tongue out. I shake my head and chuckle, tucking my phone back in my purse.
“Hi, Lily. I’m Megan, Dr. Adeline Raynor’s nurse,” she says, stepping into the waiting room with a bright smile.
I rise and follow her down the hallway toward the exam rooms.
“You can set your purse on the bench,” she says, gesturing beside the scale. “Then step up so we can get your weight.”
I do as she asks. When Megan reads out the number, my stomach drops.
I’ve lost thirteen pounds.
She scribbles the number down and guides me into one of the empty private rooms. “Have a seat, and I’ll take your vitals,” Megan says.
After asking the assessment questions, she tells me that Doctor Raynor will be right in.
I pull out my phone and scroll through Pinterest while I wait, hoping the distraction will settle the uneasiness twisting in my stomach.
When that doesn’t work, I open my Kindle app and reread one of my favorite romance novels.
But even my favorite fiction romance can’t quiet the thought circling through my mind: something may be seriously wrong.
Thirteen pounds is a lot of weight to lose.
I glance at the clock as each tick echoes in the silence, amplifying my anxiety.
It has been weeks since I first noticed the changes in my body, weeks filled with uncertainty and a gnawing fear that something is wrong.
So, when I first called my doctor, she suggested I get my blood drawn.
Now that the results are in, she wanted to have me come back today to discuss the results, which only means one thing.
Bad news.
A few minutes later, there’s a knock at the door, and Dr. Raynor enters the room.
“Hi Lily,” she begins, her voice steady but gentle. “Thank you for coming in today. How have you been feeling since the last time we spoke?”
I nod, swallowing hard. “The same. My body just doesn’t feel like my own anymore.”
Dr. Raynor takes a seat, her eyes searching mine for a moment. “I understand. I asked you to come in because I wanted to discuss your results in person rather than over the phone.”
The air feels thick, and panic rises in my chest.
She takes a deep breath and says, “Lily, the biopsies showed that you have stage three breast cancer.”
The words hang in the air like a heavy mist, suffocating and cold. My breath catches in my throat, my mind racing to process the information. “Wh-what?” I can hear the tremor in my own voice, the fear that threatens to unravel me.
Dr. Raynor leans forward. “Stage three indicates that the cancer has spread beyond the breast to nearby lymph nodes. It’s more advanced than we would have hoped for, but we have treatment options available.”
A wave of nausea washes over me. “Treatment options? What kind of treatment are we talking about?”
“Typically, we would discuss a combination of chemotherapy and possibly radiation therapy,” she explains. “Surgery may also be necessary to remove the tumor unless the cancer has already spread to other organs.”
“Chemotherapy…” I repeat, the word tasting bitter on my tongue.
Tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision. “I don’t understand how this happened. I really thought I had a bad case of the flu or something.”
“It’s not uncommon to feel that way,” she says softly. “What’s important now is how we move forward.”
I wipe my tears with the back of my hand, trying to regain my composure.
Dr. Raynor reaches across, placing her hand over mine. “You’re facing a daunting challenge. But you are not alone in this.”
But I am alone.
I look down at our joined hands, the warmth of her touch grounding me, and I hate that it’s not Ethan who is sitting beside me.
“But I want you to know that many people go through this and come out the other side. We will work together to create a plan that is right for you,” Dr. Raynor adds.
I think about my three children and how much they need me.
I will fight this not just for me, but for them.
When I pull up to the house, I sit in the car and wonder how I am going to tell my children.
My sister. My parents. And finally, Ethan.
I grip the leather steering wheel, knuckles white, as a cold dread settles deep in my stomach.
And how am I going to manage everything on my own?
What about my bakery? I don’t have enough manpower to hold the fort down if things go downhill.
I need to make an appointment with my lawyer, update my will, and put a plan in place to make sure my family is taken care of.
What if the chemo doesn’t work?
What if my cancer comes back even after treatment?
What if I’m too sick to take care of my kids?
What if chemo takes away the good days I have with them?
The heartbreaking reality that there might be a possibility that my children will have to live without their mother strikes me like a bolt of lightning.
I rest my head on the steering wheel and cry. Tears stream down my cheeks, my shoulders shaking as the “what ifs” bury me. Suddenly, my door is whipped open, pulling me out of my despair. I slowly slide my face against the wheel until I’m looking into my sister’s worry-filled blue eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asks and kneels before me, pushing my hair out of my face.
I take a minute to compose myself and take a shaky breath. “I have some news I need to share with you.”
She nods and moves out of my way, allowing me to pull the keys out of the ignition, climb out of the car, and walk to the front door.
Once we’re inside, we settle in the living room. For once, I’m grateful the children aren’t home. I need a moment to fall apart before I have to gather myself enough to tell them the truth.
And then I let the words spill out, each syllable a painful release. Tears pool in her eyes, and soon we’re both engulfed in a storm of sorrow.
Without Ethan here to take care of me, to hold my hand and tell me I wasn’t allowed to fall apart alone, I had no choice but to lean on other people. Anyone but the one I should have always been able to count on.
The constant ache of his absence hurt for the longest time, but over time, I was forced to accept it without a fight.
I finally let him go, and the pain is less.
But now, sitting here with this diagnosis pressing down on my chest, I wanted him with a desperation that made me hate myself a little.
I wanted his arms around me. I wanted his voice in my ear, promising we would get through this together.
I wanted the old Ethan and Lily—a version of us that no longer existed.