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Chapter 1
Byron
“Terminal.” My A-momand I exchanged glances, not sure that we heard the doctor right.
“Can you repeat that, please?” I asked, feeling like I was hearing my voice from someplace far away, almost like someone else was speaking.
“I’m so sorry to have to tell you this. Both of you. I know this was the last thing you wanted to hear.”
“You’re tellin’ me, Doc,” Mom said, chuckling dryly. She sat back in her chair, tilting her head back against the wall. She closed her eyes and looked so defeated. For an alpha woman that was usually so strong and stubborn it was a terrible sight to see, and it crushed me to see the fight vanish from her expression.
The oncologist continued. “Unfortunately, there’s more.”
“More?” I asked incredulously. “More like what? Is a carcinoangi- a carcino...”
“Cholangiocarcinoma?”
“Yes, that.”
“No, it’s not, and in the midst of a bunch of bad news, that’s something we can look at as a positive.”
I let out a sigh. “I read that it’s aggressive and basically inoperable, and that you don’t know you have it until it’s too late.”
The doctor nodded slowly. “You know how to do your research.”
I laughed humorlessly. “Doctor Google. I haven’t been sleeping much lately.”
“You were looking in the right spot, you missed by just a little bit. cholangiocarcinoma is a rare bile duct cancer. What your mom has is something different. It's called hepatocellular carcinoma. It’s much more common, and the tumors form in the ‘meat’ of liver, to put it in simple terms.”
“You said this one was better.”
The doctor pressed their lips together. “Not by much. With the other we have very few options for treatment, and the diagnosis is typically bleak. With this one we have some methods that are proven effective.”
I nodded slowly. “So we at least have options.”
“We do. However, the timeline is not very generous.”
“How much time are we looking at?” I asked, tensing all over for the answer.
“It could be as little as three months.”
“No.” I wasn’t hearing that. I refused to hear that.
Our doctor pressed on. “There are a few types of treatment for hepatocellular carcinoma, but most are ineffective for this placement and stage of the disease.”
“What you’re telling us is that there’s no hope? That can’t be possible.” My voice rose, and so did I, standing up higher from my chair with every word I uttered. “How do you know for sure that it’s cancer, and that it’s this bad? What if you’re wrong?” I knew the doc wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t in my right mind.
Mom patted my arm, trying to calm me down. Ironic, since she was usually the rowdy one.
“Bye,” she said, using my childhood nickname. “It’s okay.”
“It’snotokay,” I said, frantic. I whipped back around to the oncologist. “Are you sure it’s not, like, some kind of uterine fibroids causing the abdominal pain? Or endometriosis? Or some type of neurological issue causing her to get dizzy? Something that...” Won’t kill her in three months. Something that wasn’tliver cancer. I hated that, at a time like this, I thought abouthim.
The doc sighed, empathy in their eyes. They were clearly used to seeing families go through this, and later, when I had the time to sort my feelings out, I’d be grateful for how kind and gentle they were.
“I’m afraid not. There is, however-”
“What?” I jumped in. “Whatever it is, we’ll do it.”
