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“That’s what I think it is, isn’t it?” I ask. I already know what she is going to say.
“Yes, baby. It’s a form of cancer,” she says. I can tell she’s crying.
The C word that actually sucks. I feel the walls closing in on me and I find it hard to take a deep breath. I wish I could see her face. I realize that I have taken my sight for granted. It was just always there, I never had to think about what my mom looks like before, she was just always there. My silent tears fall. I feel them hitting my lap. The nurse comes in and leaves after taking my vitals. The doctor comes in a few minutes later and I only hear about every other word he says.
My very short life flashes in my mind and I begin to get upset. I haven’t done anything of significance yet. There hasn’t been enough time and what time I did have; I have devoted to baseball.
Nothing could have prepared me for this news. It’s devastating, but there is nothing to do but move forward. Somehow, someway I am going to beat this and come out stronger than ever.
I have to.
I don’t know any other way to be.
Chapter 1
Cathleen
Six Months Later
The last six months have been hectic as fuck. I basically had to relearn how to do everything. Being blind isn’t easy. I wish I could say that my other senses are heightened now, but that’s either a myth or it hasn’t happened yet. First, I turned eighteen, then I graduated from high school. There has been nothing but obstacles in my way, but I knocked those bitches down. Thankfully, that’s behind me now. Eighteen years on this planet has taught me a lot about heartache and misery.
Currently, I am flying to Chicago for a consultation with Dr. Wayne Bryant. Both my regular eye doctor and my oncologist referred me to him. My mom is sitting next to me, holding my hand, tightly. She hates flying. Hates it with a capital H. She has been really great about helping me. I really don’t know what I’d do without her help. There are so many things I took for granted before. Shaving my legs is one of those things. I get them waxed now because I can’t be trusted with a razor. I don’t think this could get any worse for me.
Since our flight arrived late, we have less than thirty minutes to get to the doctor’s office after we check-in to our hotel. My mom fills out all the new patient paperwork for me while I listen to music on my phone. Music has really helped me through this. Right now, I am listening to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. I know that it is traditionally Christmas music, but who doesn’t love Christmas music? My mom nudges me, and I pull one of my earbuds out.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“What did you weigh last week? Do you remember?”
“One seventy-eight. It really asks that?”
“It asks all kinds of things that don’t have anything to do with your eyes. I am sure they just need to know in the eventuality of surgery.”
“Sounds legit.”
“I’ll be right back.” I feel her stand and move away from me. She comes back and we talk about the book she is currently reading. It seems like a good one, so she sets me up with the Audible version to listen to later.
“Cathleen Mulligan?” A female voice says pulling us from our conversation. My mom leads me back to a freezing cold room.
“I’m Jackie. Dr. Bryant will be in shortly.”
“Thank you,” I say. I hear the door open and close with a soft click.
We wait patiently for the doctor. When the door opens, I smell him before I hear him. I have no idea what kind of cologne he’s wearing but he smells like pine trees and vanilla and it wakes me up in a way I’ve never been woken before. He doesn’t say anything for a while, but I can feel him staring at me. After what seems an inordinate amount of time, eventually, he clears his throat.
“Hello. I am Doctor Bryant. I received your chart from Boston,” his voice is thick, and it goes all through me.
“Hi. I’m Cathleen. This is my mom, Rita.”
“Nice to meet you, ladies. I am going to examine you; I just need to wash up. Give me a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” I say. He must leave the room because my mom starts talking.
“I have such a good feeling about this, don’t -?”
“Mom, I need you to tell me something,” I say cutting her off.
“What’s that?”
“What does he look like?”
“What?”
“Ma come on. Tell me quickly.”
“Okay, okay. He’s average looking, I guess. Weird haircut. Like long, and a bit shaggy on the sides. He’s tall, average build. Nothing to write home about,” she says laughing.
