Thirty-six
Ethan
My palms are slick, and I can feel the frantic beat of my pulse drumming against my ribs. Waiting for Lily to be called in to hear the chest CT scan results after her last chemo treatment, this waiting room feels too quiet.
God, I’ve been a wreck all week. The anticipation of this day has been a dark cloud hanging over everything, a relentless countdown. My stomach is doing flip-flops, and a cold dread creeps up my spine. I keep clenching and unclenching my jaw, trying to release some of the tension, but it is no use.
I steal a glance at Lily. She is staring at her phone, probably scrolling through her Pinterest account. When things get tough, when emotions threaten to overwhelm her, she buries herself in tasks. It is her way of coping, or rather, not coping.
It has been affecting her, this endless waiting, this uncertainty.
She even started going back to the bakery, working up to four hours a day.
I wasn’t thrilled about it, not by a long shot.
Every fiber of my being screamed for her to slow down, to rest. But she was adamant.
Said it made her feel normal, productive.
And what could I do? As long as she wasn’t there all day, pushing herself too hard, I had to compromise.
Had to pick my battles. And right now, the biggest battle is just getting through the next few minutes.
Just breathe, Ethan. Just breathe.
The door whooshes open, and a nurse steps out. She scans the room, her gaze settling on Lily.
“Hi, Lily. The doctor is ready for you,” she says.
The nurse smiles. Okay, that’s a good sign, right? You don’t smile when there’s bad news. A tiny, desperate spark of hope flickers in my chest. Maybe she read the results, and Lily is all in the clear.
I reach for Lily’s hand, lacing my fingers through hers, and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Her grip is surprisingly firm as she squeezes back, a silent exchange that could be meant to steady me, or perhaps herself.
We rise to our feet and follow the nurse through the open doorway.
“How are you feeling, Lily?” the nurse asks as we trail behind her down the brightly lit hallway.
“I’m good,” she murmurs.
“Go ahead and step on the scale to get your weight,” the nurse instructs Lily when we reach a digital scale tucked into an alcove.
I release Lily’s hand, my fingers tingling from the sudden absence of her warmth, as she steps onto the cold metal plate. The numbers flash, then settle.
100 pounds.
My stomach clenches.
I run my hands down my face, dragging them over my head. Nerves coil and burn inside me that make me want to crawl out of my own skin.
“You okay?” Lily asks. I glance down, meeting her gaze. Her brow furrows with concern, her eyes searching mine.
I force a smile. “Yeah. You?” I ask, rubbing her back gently, trying to convey a steadiness I do not feel.
She manages a small, tight smile in return.
Yep. She’s freaking out, too. The thought sends a fresh wave of unease through me.
“Follow me,” the nurse prompts, and we resume our silent procession, turning a corner and heading into room number four.
The nurse takes Lily’s vitals—blood pressure, temperature, and pulse. She asks a few basic questions about how Lily has been feeling, her sleep, and her appetite, then offers a polite smile and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
Lily sinks into one of the two chairs, and I pull the other close, settling beside her. I take her hand again, holding on tight. “Positive thoughts only, Lily,” I whisper, leaning closer. “Whatever happens, I’ll never leave your side, okay?”
She nods and offers me a warm, fragile smile. I lean in and kiss her on the lips.
My mouth lingers for a moment, savoring the softness, before pulling away.
A knock echoes on the door. The door opens, and the doctor steps into the room, her expression unreadable.
“Hi, Lily.” Her gaze shifts to me. “Hi Ethan. It’s good to see you here.”
“Hello, doctor,” I reply.
She walks in, closing the door with a quiet click, and moves toward the sink.
She washes her hands, the sound of the running water filling the sudden silence, then pulls a paper towel from the dispenser.
She tosses it into the small trash can and walks over to the rolling chair.
My eyes are fixed on the file clutched in her hands.
She sits down, the file resting on her lap.
“How have you been feeling, Lily?” she asks, her voice gentle, but with an underlying gravity that makes my stomach drop.
“Fine,” Lily replies. “I haven’t been sick much since the last treatment.”
“That’s good,” the doctor says. She crosses her legs, her gaze sweeping between us, then settling on Lily. “After running the latest tests, I’m afraid I don’t have better news.”
And just like that, the ground opens up and swallows me whole. My breath hitches. The air in the room suddenly feels thick, suffocating.
“What does that mean?” Lily asks, her voice trembling, mirroring the tremor now running through my body.
The doctor’s face turns solemn, her lips pressing into a thin, downward curve. “I’m so sorry, Lily, but the cancer is still present, and it’s progressing.”
Lily
Still present. Progressing.
Those words run through my end with the speed of a bullet.
“Wh-what does that mean?” I ask.
“You have metastatic breast cancer,” she adds.
“English, please,” Ethan says in a hoarse voice.
She offers him a comforting smile. “It is also known as stage IV breast cancer. In other words, an advanced form of the disease where cancer cells have spread from the breast to other parts of the body.”
Her gaze shifts back to me and she says, “In your case, Lily, it has spread to your lungs.”
My heart drops. “But…but I don’t have any symptoms that would make me think I have lung cancer.”
She nods in understanding. “Unfortunately, when breast cancer spreads to the lungs, it often doesn’t show any immediate symptoms. We only found a small tumor during your imaging scan.”
I swallow hard and try to process what she’s telling me. Ethan reaches for my hand and holds it close to him, offering me comfort and support through his touch.
I close my eyes and hold back the tears from falling. How the hell has this become my life? I have children who need me. An ex-husband I found my way back to and who I have learned to love even more. And my sister? Oh, God. How will she be able to move forward? And my parents?
“Is there something you can do?” Ethan pleads, causing me to open my eyes. “I mean, money is not an issue. I want her to have the best care in the world.”
The doctor keeps her eyes on me, and without having to say it, I know this is where it ends for me. That there is no going back from this.
“How long?” I ask.
Ethan’s head whips in my direction. “Lily.”
I steel my spine and exhale. “How long?” I repeat.
The doctor nods respectfully. “I cannot predict how long a person with final-stage breast cancer will have because the disease progresses differently for everyone. But in my experience, I can provide a prognosis based on survival statistics for people with similar cases. Patients can live up to five years, but please understand how long that final stage of life is different for everyone. But five years isn’t a guarantee. ”
“And symptoms?” I ask.
“You will experience pain or discomfort in the lungs, shortness of breath, wheezing, a persistent cough, and coughing up blood. In some cases, it can feel like having a common cold.”
“Are there other treatment options available?” Ethan asks quietly.
She turns to him and responds, “There are alternatives to slow down the spread of the cancer, relieve symptoms, and give Lily the best quality of life for as long as possible.”
“Like what?” Ethan asks.
“Hormone therapy, for one. It can take two to three months before any benefits are seen. Another option is radiotherapy. It uses high-energy X-rays to destroy cancer cells. And—”
I raise my hand to stop her. “I don’t want further treatment.”
“What?” Ethan gasps in horror. “What are you talking about? Think about this, Lily.”
I turn to him and offer a small smile. “I have thought about it. Since the moment I was diagnosed.”
“But there are options, Lily,” he argues.
“I understand my options, Ethan.”
“I’m going to give you two a moment,” the doctor says as she walks out the door.
Ethan and I continue to stare at one another. “It’s like you’re giving up,” he accuses.
“I’m not giving up.”
“Yes, you are!” he snaps. He rises to his feet and paces the small space, running his hands over his head. “You can fight this, Lily.”
“Fight for what?” I whisper, exhausted.
“For your children! For me!” he nearly shouts, hitting his fist to his chest.
“Ethan. You heard the doctor. There is no cure. The cancer cells are growing and spreading further. It has already spread to my lungs. Further treatment will be ineffective since the tumor isn’t shrinking.
I choose to prioritize comfort, which means less time in hospitals, fewer side effects, and more time at home with my family. ”
His face crumbles. The reaction is like a spear lodging its way into my chest. I hate to see him in so much pain, especially since we recently started to make things work between us. And now we’re ending before we’ve barely begun.
I hold out my hand. “Please come here.”
He watches me for a moment but does not move.
“Ethan,” I say in a softer tone, trying hard not to break down.
That snaps him out of his trance, and he slowly makes his way to me and kneels in front of me.
I take his handsome face in my hands and brush the pads of my thumbs against his soft skin. He closes his eyes as if he is soaking in my touch. A tear escapes, landing on my thumb, and I swallow a lump of regret.
“I know this is difficult, but I don’t want to suffer anymore.”
He opens his eyes, and the light in them has dimmed.
“I want to spend whatever time I have left with you, my children, my family, and my friends. Let’s make new memories.”
With a firm nod, he smiles in acceptance. “New memories,” he repeats.