Happy Ending
Happy Ending
It’s fourteen months since diagnosis— and the main point is, she’s still here. She’s had another “stable” scan: her fourth now. Four stable scans is good. Four feels substantial.
She’s finished chemo, she feels well, she has a lot more energy, she’s even started writing again. Is anything actually still wrong? It all seems unbelievable.
So energetic is she these days that Nick has booked the whole family on a charity walk. The T-shirts arrive through the post, each one bright red with THE brAIN TUMOUR CHARITY printed in white, and on the appointed day they all dress up in T-shirts, trainers, and joggers.
The sun is shining as they reach the London church where the walk will begin. There are crowds of people in red T-shirts, red balloons everywhere, and on a stage with a PA system, a man in a red T-shirt is mid-speech.
“I would like to thank each and every one of you for being here today,” he is saying. “You are supporting research and helping improve essential care and support for those with brain tumors. Together, we can make sure no one faces this diagnosis alone.”
As Eve looks around, she is bowled over by how many people are there—some in family groups, some alone, some holding up cards with names. Joanna. Simon. Mum . All these other families affected by the same piece of wretched bad luck.
It warms her, to think of herself as part of a community, even if it’s not a community she would have chosen to join. She takes a family selfie and hopes that this day will be a precious memory for her children. The day they put something back; the day they all came together for a good cause.
“So finally, thank you again for turning out,” says the man on the stage. “Enjoy the walk and see you at the finish line! Three, two, one—GO!”
The crowd surges off down the London streets to the sound of klaxons and cheering, and soon makes a stream of red T-shirts moving through Hyde Park. The pace is brisk and Eve feels exhilarated at being part ofit.
“I’m walking the red carpet again,” she says to Nick with a laugh, gesturing around at the sea of red T-shirts. “Do you remember when I was on a Zimmer frame? It seems ages ago now.”
“You’ve done amazingly.”
“I feel normal. I feel like there’s nothing wrong with me at all. Maybe it’s all been a big mistake.”
She’s taking cannabis oil now, as recommended by her oncologist, and that makes her feel uplifted too. Maybe her fictitious happy ending will come true, although probably without George Clooney.
As she strides along, faster and faster, she feels a sudden wave of optimism. Everything seems possible. Of course she’ll see the children grow up. Of course she’ll meet her grandchildren. Of course she’ll write more books. Of course she’ll get back on the tennis court.
If she can walk 10K, then why shouldn’t she beat the odds? She’s been super-lucky in life…then super-unlucky…so maybe the next swing will be toward luck.
“Keep going!” shouts a nearby walk marshal in a red T-shirt. “You’re doing really well! Keep going!”
“OK!” Eve shouts back happily. “I’ll keep going!”
And right at that moment, this is her only aim in life, the only happy ending she wants. Just to keep going.