Page 24 of Lovesick
“Hello, Mr. LaFleur?”
“Yes… yes… I’m here.”
“You’ve been diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma - a treatable type of cancer.”
A treatable type of… I couldn’t even think the last word. That wasn’t possible, I had been fine until a few days ago. “No,” I found myself saying.
“We need you to come in as soon as possible to discuss treatment options,” the woman said, her voice radiating sympathy, but clearly determined to do her job. “Can we expect to see you today?”
“I - yeah - I g-guess. I’ll, uh…make a call. Then drive over…I guess.” If I could ever move from this spot.
“Okay. Dr. Willamon will be ready to talk to you,” she promised, then hung up.
I sat there with the phone in my hand for a long time. Then, I called another number.
“Hey!” Maggie answered cheerfully. “What’s up? Aren’t you working?”
“I - uh…” I cleared my throat. “I was.”
“Okay?” Now she sounded confused and a little concerned. “Is something wrong?”
“I…I went to the doctor. They say I have…” Realizing she probably couldn’t hear me, I spoke up. “They say I have… Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. It’s a…” I couldn’t tell what the noise was she just made. Was it a cough, a gasp or a little shriek? But I sensed she was aware of what Hodgkin’s Lymphoma was, so I didn’t have to explain. For what seemed like forever, I just sat there with the shovel leaning against my shoulder, surrounded by beds of flowers as I waited for her to say something. To tell me how sorry she was, to ask me how I felt, even to say “I told you so,”... anything.
“It’ll be okay.” Her voice came through strong, sure…almost bossy, and I nearly smiled as I realized that. “I know the best oncologist in New Orleans, and I’ve seen the level of care they give their patients here. It’ll be okay. You’re going to be fine, Marty.”
I didn’t wipe away the single tear that escaped the corner of my eye and trickled down my cheek. “Okay.”
“You’ll be okay. I promise.”
Chapter Eleven
Maggie
I liked to talk big. I liked to know things. I liked to be right.
Or, I used to. But then, I had been right in a way that I didn’t want - that nobody ever wanted. I had told Marty his habits weren’t healthy. I had asked him to see a doctor. And he had, and he had gotten some of the scariest news a person could ever receive: cancer.
If I could be wrong for the rest of my life, that would be best.
I sighed, sitting outside the Tulane University Cancer Center on a bench in the pleasant little arbor area. I didn’t mean that, and I knew that just because an ailment was undiscovered, that didn’t make it any less dangerous. Without my intuition and nursing knowledge…well, I didn’t want to think about that.
At least, of all the types of cancer, Hodgkin’s Lymphoma was one of the more treatable ones. Fresh in my mind from all my reading and research, I knew that of those diagnosed with Hodgkin’s disease, a large percentage survived and made a full recovery.
But statistics weren’t going to comfort me right now. I needed Marty to get here in ten minutes like he was supposed to, be admitted to the center and start getting the treatment he needed before I could feel even a little better about this situation.
I hugged myself tightly even though the late April afternoon was uncomfortably warm, wishing the feel of my own touch was Marty wrapping his arms around me. Whenever he touched me, I felt so safe - like nothing else could reach me around him. Nothing bad could get to me. Nothing that happened could hurt me.
Now, suddenly…nothing was safe. Neither of us was safe. I wanted… I needed Marty in my life, and I couldn’t take it if…
Stop it,I ordered myself sternly, standing up from the bench and heading back inside. I couldn’t start pitying myself, that was just ridiculous. This was about Marty and making sure he would be okay. This was about his parents, who had to be worried sick and scared for him, and their family. I just needed to trust in years of research and advancements in treatments and let the best oncologist in New Orleans - Dr. Haley Richards - do her job.
Something wet splashed onto the pristine floors. I swiped away tears, angrily trying to hide all traces that they had ever existed. Marty would be here in seconds, and I had no time for tears right now.
And then his truck pulled up in the patient drop-off lane, and his father was driving. I had no time for anything but running through the doors and throwing myself into Marty’s arms. “Hey,” I managed through where I had my face buried firmly in his neck.
“Hey.”
I could feel the heat of a fever radiating from his skin, he sounded a little hoarse, and he looked so, so tired - but the warm, comforting hug that was shared still made me feel safe, and that nearly broke me down. But I couldn’t cry, not right now. I was going to be a nurse. Nurses had a job to do. People to help.
