“Celeste, your mom, it’s your mom. She’s in an ambulance going to the hospital. She just collapsed, I-I’m so sorry.”
It’s your mom.
It’s your mom.
It’s your mom.
I suck in a shaky breath but begin sobbing again as Delaney tears down the side streets of her neighbourhood while following directions on my phone. I can see that the call is still going with Dominic in the background and I faintly hear him talking to anurse or doctor about something. I don’t have it in me to ask. I just need to get there. There’s only one local hospital and I know it all too well.
We pull into the lot beside the emergency bay in less than fifteen minutes thanks to Delaney’s Formula 1 reenactment. The call with Dominic continues in silence as it has the entire drive. As soon as the car is in park I unbuckle, grab my phone, and race through the hospital doors.
I’m running so fast down the halls I almost knock over a nurse. I’m vaguely aware of Delaney trying to keep up and apologizing on my behalf somewhere behind me. I stop at the elevator bank unsure of what floor she’s on. Either oncology or the ICU.
Which one would she be sent to?
“Dom, where is she? Floor? Room?” I snap quickly into the phone.
“They’re moving her t-to…oncology? I think that’s on?—”
“Four. I know. Does she have a room yet?”Not ICU, that’s more reassuring.
“Hoot, why is she moving to the oncology floor? Does she…Celeste, does she have cancer?”
“I’ll be there in two.” I hang up. The sadness and worry in his voice for my mother, a woman he has now met in person, echoes so loudly in my ear.
I know that worry. I feel that worry in my bones. I heard that worry from my mom when they diagnosed her. I heard that fear in my dad’s voice when he had the doctors go over and over the timeline of what would be the next decade in and out of the hospital.
I exit the elevator on the fourth floor and make my way to the nurses’ station. I know this route by heart. I’ve walked it hundreds of times. My mom had spent years, the majority ofmy childhood, in and out of this very floor of the hospital. I was seven when she was first diagnosed with ovarian cancer.
After her miscarriage and removal of her one ovary the doctors thought that chemotherapy would work and it did, for a while. Then the cancer returned a year later. Then came the second surgery to remove her other ovary, her entire uterus, and some surrounding tissue to hopefully prevent any further spread. It calmed down then, with a bit more chemotherapy and frequent check ups. My dad was already in the dust by then. He had wanted more children so he left his wife and child to lead a less complicated life.
At the time, I was outrageously angry. At him, at my friends at school that couldn’t understand. Hell, even the teachers had no idea what to say to me. I was at my mom’s bedside more than I was in school at first. My mom was such a bright spark, she became friends with her nurses who would help me with school work or studying when she was too unwell. She did everythingandfought cancer. She is quite literally the strongest and bravest soul I have ever and will ever know.
I breathlessly slam into the nurses’ station on the oncology floor, quickly getting her room number. When I get there, it’s empty. I cross my arms over my chest and pace. Delaney hovers just outside in the hallway leaving me in nervous solitude. I see her move to hug a taller figure through the small window in the door, it must be Dominic. The door clicks open and I freeze, my eyes shooting to my mother in her hospital bed, smiling at me.
“Mom!” I race to her, clutching her outstretched arm as I look over her, trying to decipher what could be wrong.
“Sweetheart? Oh, Celeste, honey, I’m okay.” She pulls me in for a hug and holds me close, comforting me as if I were the one wearing the hospital bracelet. I can’t help the tears welling in my eyes at my mothers embrace. A wretched sob I’d been holding in,from fear of the worst, loosens and I can’t hold back the wave of relief at seeing her, feeling her, alive. Here and alive.
“Celeste! My sweet girl, I’m okay, look at me.” She pulls me and holds me at arms length, “Honey, I was dehydrated. I’m fine.”
I blink back my surprise as one of the doctors comes in with my mothers chart, reading it over and hovering.
“What? Dehydrated?” I ask, not letting go of my mom’s hand.
“Yes.” The tall man in the white coat smiles at me reassuringly, “I know you qualify as cancer-free, June, but you still have to be careful. In this heat, make sure to drink plenty of extra water and take lots of breaks.”
I turn my head slowly toward him, stunned and silent. Then to my mother.
“Did he just saycancer-free?” I whisper, barely getting the words out.
My mom smiles at me with the warmth of a thousand suns, “Well I guess the cancer’s out of the bag!” She throws her arms up. “Yes, sweetheart. I wanted to wait until graduation—” she says coyly, shooting a glare at the doctor. “—but yes. It’s now been five years and no recurring cancer has been detected. I’m officially cancer free!”
My body is in full blown shock. Stunned, really. It’s notbadshock like after a trauma, it’s just…odd.It’s the shock of no longer being in fight or flight mode after years of it. It’s the shock of associating the word “healthy”with my mother. Who, for most of my life, has been unhealthy,in a very poignant way. Suddenly it’s evaporated, completely drained away, like the cancer was all smoke and mirrors in a horror house and someone just flicked the lights on. Except this was real. We lived through the pain. The endless nights. The chemotherapy. The surgeries. The recoveries. The lost appetites and weight loss and hair loss, fuckingallof it. And now? Now I feel like a massive rock hasbeen lifted from my chest, leaving me reeling with a dizziness of finally being able to take a deep breath. Now, Mom is cancer free. Now she’sfree.
Tears flow down my cheeks in rivers. I begin sobbing into my mother’s embrace, my body shaking at the immense and overwhelming relief that swallows me like a blanket. The icy spot in my heart where the fear of cancer resided has melted. It’s moved out, packed its bags and left me with this heap of emotions to deal with.
Mom and I hold each other for what feels like hours. I’m sure it wasn’t that long in reality, but I don’t even feel like I’minthe same reality anymore. I pull back from Mom first knowing that, since I was born, she has never let go of a hug first. She never wanted to. Her love for me and strength in her battle is unmatched. I look into her beautiful cool grey eyes and see a new light there.
