Page 56 of Lost Room Lawyer
“You’re Rina Simeon’s son?”
“Yes,” I replied, shaking his hand. “Nico Simeon.”
“Dr. René Berger.”
“I came as quickly as I could. What happened?”
Dr. Berger glanced at the closed door where my mother lay, then turned back to me and cleared his throat. “I’ve just reviewed the results of your mother’s blood tests. Not all the tests are in yet, but it doesn’t look good.”
All the blood seemed to drain from my face, and I swallowed hard. “What? But … she’s okay, right?”
“I’m sorry to inform you,” the doctor said. “But your mother is quite ill. Her white blood cell count has increased significantly—by ten times the normal level.”
“Yes, she had dizzy spells, but what does that mean?”
Maya supported me from the side as if she already knew. “She also complained of fatigue and had red spots all over her body. Is that related?”
“Yes,” the doctor replied in a somber tone. “Your mother has been diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia.”
Maya sobbed next to me. I still didn’t understand. Of course, the man was talking about blood cancer, but not my mother. “And … um … what does that mean now?” The doctor’s words echoed back to me.
Your mother is very ill.
“We will start chemotherapy immediately.”
“Then she’ll get better?”
“The chances of recovery are estimated to be between 20 and 40 percent.”
Gradually, the information sank in, and I began to grasp how serious the situation was. My heart raced, and I felt hot. Something was tightening around my throat, and I could barely breathe. “Forty percent chance of recovery? And … um …”
“Your mother isn’t dying yet, but I recommend you prepare for anything.”
My skin burned as I stared into the man’s blue-gray eyes, desperately trying to find even a glimmer of hope. Yes, he was professional and undoubtedly compassionate, but you learn that with time.
Where the hell was the hope?
“Go see your mother. She’ll be happy you’re here. We’ll transfer her to the oncology department tomorrow and begin the treatment right away.”
I felt strangely out of sync, like I had wandered into someone else’s life as I knocked softly and entered the room with heavy steps. My muscles grew more tense with every stride toward the bed. My mother greeted me with tears and open arms, and I climbed onto the bed, holding her tightly.
“This can’t be happening,” I murmured, clinging to her.
“I know,” she said, gently stroking my head. “But we’ll get through this.”
“Do you need me to bring anything from home?” Maya offered. “A T-shirt or underwear?”
“Yes,” my mother said, wiping her tears. “That would be kind.”
I clung to her even tighter. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You don’t have to.”
I realized that I was behaving like a helpless little boy, but the conversation with the doctor still hadn’t fully sunk in, and I could almost feel it spreading inside me like thick sludge. I barely registered as Maya said her goodbyes.
“How was the dinner?” my mother asked earnestly.
“That doesn’t matter,” I replied, straightening up.
