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Chapter 11
Four weeks of treatment down and only one to go, at least in this first round. Hopefully, it is also the only round if I achieve remission.
“I want to admit you,” says Dr. Ramirez.
“No, I’m fine,” I say. “I don’t need any extra help.”
“It’s not about help. I don’t like the amount of weight you’ve lost. It’s getting harder and harder for you to keep anything down.”
“How long will this hospital stay be?”
“That depends. I want to run some tests.”
I wince at the prospect of a long exploratory admission. Between the apartment, treatment, and the dehydration admission, I’m getting dangerously close to needing to ask Pilar for more money. She’d give it right away, but it would make her suspicious. Her life is hard enough in her marriage; I can’t add to her troubles.
After extensive testing,Dr. Ramirez walks into my room with Dr. Medina, both their faces grim.
I sit up and look between them expectantly. Dr. Ramirez stands a few feet behind Dr. Medina, and it is he who speaks first.
“Hello, Miss Almonte,” Dr. Medina says.
“Valentina, or Vale, please,” I say with a half-hearted smile as I wait for the bad news.
“That’s right. I’m sorry. Valentina, I’m afraid the tests we ran today confirmed what Dr. Ramirez feared. The radiation is damaging your small intestine. That’s what’s been exacerbating your GI issues more than normal.”
I suck in a breath and shut my eyes. No. This can’t be happening. My body is shutting down, and I’ve lost all control of it. The blow is devastating. I have always controlled my body one hundred percent. But this? There is nothing I can do to make this better. I don’t know how I manage to not cry—maybe because anger is vying for first place in my mind, but I keep it together in front of my two favorite doctors.
“Okay,” I say as it sinks in. “So what do we do now?”
Dr. Ramirez sits in front of me and squeezes my forearm. “We have to do surgery to repair your intestine,” she says.
I exhale. “So there is something we can do about it, then?” Can I dare hope I will get through this? Hope is dangerous, but I want it so bad. “Is this common?” I ask.
“It can be, for cervical cancer patients who receive extended radiation,” Dr. Medina says.
“And the surgery?”
“I have scheduled it for tomorrow,” Dr. Ramirez says.
What follows is Dr. Ramirez explaining the surgical procedure briefly and answering some of my questions. However, both she and Dr. Medina reassure me the surgeon will stop by before the procedure to answer anything more specific. Both my doctors are confident this is the only path forward, and I have to get over the fear of major surgery because I have no other choice.
“Can I go home today?” I ask.
“I’d rather you stay,” she says.
“But do I have to?”
“I really think it’s best,” Dr. Medina interjects before Dr. Ramirez can respond.
I’mbored out of my mind and wonder if I packed a book or at least a magazine. I stand to grab my duffle bag and plop it onto my mattress so I can rummage through it.Please tell me I at least packed my tablet, I’m thinking, but I must have said it out loud because someone clears their throat inside my room. I spin around and smile when I see that Dr. Ramirez is back. “Dr. Ramirez!” My excitement dwindles when my eyes land on Rory standing behind her.
“Hello, Miss Almonte,” says Rory. I cock my head to study him. He’s never before called me that in our few interactions together at the hospital.
We never discussed it, but now I’m wondering if I could get him into trouble at work. Surely there are rules against dating patients. But we met before either of us knew . . . I doubt his superiors would see it that way. I decide to play along for now, and I’ll be sure to ask him about it later.
“Valentina. Please,” I correct and do my best to reassure him with my eyes that I won’t give him away.
Most of what Dr. Ramirez says doesn’t register. Something about consent forms that I’ve heard a million times, but I’m so nervous about giving him away, I’m afraid to speak.
