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"Dad, no. I don't want them to know. They’d make me change my training schedule again. I've come too far for that."
Dad was quiet for a long minute. "They need to know you're starting dialysis."
I gasped, my jaw hung open. "No, I'm not. I'm not doing dialysis right now." Anger dried up my tears. "The trials are right around the corner, and the Olympics only last like two months from start to finish after that. I'll begin treatment once it's over."
His voice hardened. "Use your brain, Adrianna. You don't have the time to wait to start treatment. I've already made the appointment for you. You're going."
My nostrils flared. "Dad!"
"Adrianna." He said my name with frustration. "I will not lose you. You'll be at that appointment whether you want to or not. How are you going to enjoy being a gymnast if you're dead?"
I slammed my mouth shut, my teeth grinding together.
That was heartless.
"Dad, please." My voice was low, broken, and the stupid tears were back. "It's only a few months. I can handle a few more months. After everything I read online, if I start now, I won't be able to compete. I'll lose everything I've worked for because I won't have the strength to continue. I'll be even sicker. Please, I'm begging you to just give me more time."
"Sweetie, you simply don't have the time."
I swallowed hard and clenched my eyes shut. I hated that he was right.
"Please." I cried softly. "I'll do anything you want as soon as I know about the Olympics." We were both quiet for a long moment. "Please, Dad, please give me a little more time."
His voice was low, grim. "Adrianna, I just can't allow you to wait."
Tears were streaming down my cheeks. "Dad, a few more months won't hurt. I'll go to the doctor every week if you want me to instead of every three weeks just for a checkup. I'll bring a doctor to meets with me. Please don't take my gymnastics dream away from me. In a couple of months I'll have to say goodbye forever. Don't make me say it now, because that's what you'd be doing if I start dialysis."
I was crying uncontrollably. All I needed was a few more months and then I would give myself up to the diseases and do whatever my dad and my new team of doctors wanted me to do. Until then, this was all that I was asking for. I would be fine until then. I knew I would.
Dad let out a heavy breath while I held mine. "I don't think this is a good idea."
"If I feel like I've taken a turn for the worse, I'll call you and tell you. I'll go to the doctor. Anything, just don't make me start treatment now." I paused when I thought about when the Olympic Trials were. "I just need a few more months, that's all I'm
asking for. It won't make that big of a deal if I take my medicine and go to my checkups. Plus, by then, I'll know if I made the team or not. Just give me a little more time."
"Adrianna, sweetheart…" I could tell he was caving. "So much can happen in two months."
"Nothing is going to happen. We wouldn't even be having this conversation if I hadn't gone to the doctor."
"But you did go and it changes everything. Your health is at risk." I heard the sound of ice clinking against a glass like he was taking a sip of his drink—drifted across the line. "I know what gymnastics means to you and I don't want to take it away, but as your parent, I'm responsible for your well-being."
"Dad, please, I'm begging you."
He groaned like he was torn. "If anything changes, or you need to talk, you better call me. I don't care if it's the middle of the night or if you already called fifteen times, just call me."
Hope surged through me. I sniffled. "Does this mean you'll let me wait to start treatment?"
He hesitated. I could tell he wasn't happy about this. "I don't like this idea, but I'd do anything for you, Adrianna. I hope you know that. You have a long road ahead of you. I just want to see you get well and keep you happy." I smiled sadly to myself. "Keep your head held high," he said, but he didn't seem too sure of himself.
My head was a messy configuration of emotions that I couldn't compartmentalize like I typically was able to. It was too much at once, but he was right. I needed to keep my head held high and focused. I'd gotten my way but needed a subject change before he changed his mind.
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Dad!" He chuckled and it loosened the tightness in my chest. "So, um, not to change the subject, but I have a question about Mom."
"Your mother isn't—"
"No. I mean my real mom. Sophia."
Clearing his throat, he seemed caught off guard. "Oh? What did you want to know?"
