Page 120 of We Were Something
His face falls.
“I know it’s hard to hear, but it’s a reality. So I just want to know…if we get back together, is that something you’re prepared for?”
Logan shakes his head and my heart falls.
“No,” he tells me. “It’s not something I’m prepared for. It’s not somethinganyonecouldeverbe prepared for.”
One hand reaches up and strokes through my hair.
“But if you’re asking if I’ll be here for you if you get sick, if you need chemo and lose this beautiful hair, if you need surgery again? Of course I will. I’ll be there for that, and for a million other possible things that could happen. My love for you is not contingent on your health.”
“I just…I know you don’t want kids because you don’t want to risk them being sick or…”
But I trail off when Logan shakes his head at me again.
“It’s not the same,” he tells me. “I don’t want to have kids because I face the realities of pediatric illness every day at work. And I don’t want kids because I’d rather spend some of my time at work, finding solutions that will give them longer lives. But that doesn’t mean I want a life without a partner. Without love.Existingin this world comes with risks, and as a doctor, I’m hyperaware of far too many of them.”
His hand continues to stroke through my hair, then drops down rests over my heart. The space that has never truly felt alive until him.
“But some risks are worth it,” he tells me. “And I’d rather face the idea that I could lose you someday than live the rest of my life without you.”
EPILOGUE
REMMY
Ivy’s eyes blink a few times as she wakes, and then she groans, closing her eyes again.
“Let’s bump up the pain meds,” I say to the nurse.
I place my hand on Ivy’s, tapping her lightly to get her to open her eyes again. It takes a few seconds, but eventually she does, and I give her a cheesy smile, hoping to make her laugh.
It works, and I enjoy the sound.
“Good morning,” I say, making sure she’s watching me. “How are you feeling today?”
She shakes her head and taps her tummy.
“Nausea is normal,” I tell her. “So is diarrhea.”
At that, she giggles again but groans, clutching her stomach. Her mother crosses the room and signs to her for a few seconds before turning to me.
“She’s wondering how long the nausea will last.”
I grimace and look back at Ivy.
“It could come and go, but it’s completely normal after a bone marrow transplant. My best estimate is about two weeks, though it will hopefully be less.”
Ivy lets out a sigh and nods her head then rolls over and clutches her pillow to her stomach.
It has been eleven days since her transplant. Eleven days of extensive blood testing, addressing some of the side effects of transplant and chemo, like the nausea, but also mouth sores and decreased urination.
But today…today I have good news.
I smile at Mrs. Calloway then round the bed, squatting down in front of where Ivy is turned. Placing my hand on her arm, I gently tap her again.
Her eyes peek open just a little.
“I have some news for you,” I tell her, causing her eyes to widen. “We ran the sucrose lysis test again today, and guess what we saw? Your red blood cells are completely stable.”
