Shady Bay (16 page)

“Damn it all, Mercy! Go to a doctor. Get a medical card. Do what you have to, but go!”

“Daddy, listen. I’m telling you what else happened. Just shush and listen.”

“Fine.”

“Look, you know Jaxon that I’ve told you about?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we sort of...got married. And now I’m on his insurance plan. I went to the doctor and they want to do surgery and remove the lump. They have to biopsy it and see if it’s cancer.”

“You’re married? You’re having surgery? You’re married.”

“Yeah. I’m married. I’m having Cha-Cha removed in a couple of hours and then we’ll take it from there.”

“When did you get married?”

“A few days ago?”

“You got married on your birthday?”

“Yep. And he’s wonderful, Daddy. I think I really love him. I know it’s stupid and sudden and you probably think I’m nuts, but I do.”

“I’m really happy for you, Mercy-girl.” His voice broke. “But are they cutting your Cha-Cha off?”

“No, silly. Cha-Cha is what I named my lump. They’re gonna cut her out. A lumpectomy. Then they’ll test her and see if she’s a cancerous bitch.”

“Shit, Mercy.” He paused. “I’m the silly one?” he muttered.

Jaxon sidled up next to me and pulled me back against him and started kissing my neck. “Daddy, I...need to go. I’ve gotta get ready for surgery.”

“I wish I could be there for you, but I’m glad you have Jaxon.”

“Me, too. I love you.”

“Love you more, Mercy-girl.”

The phone cut off and Jaxon looked at me with a smirk. Oh, no. How long had he been out of the shower and what had he heard? His damp hair glistened in the morning sunrise. It was glittering off of the waves and sand below, the blue sky getting paler by the moment, illuminated happily by the sun.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He kissed the corner of my mouth and I melted.

Soon, he was maneuvering me toward the bed. We were wrapped up in another moment of passion before I even knew what had hit me. Tangled in each other’s arms and legs, Jax stroked my hair languidly.

“So much for that walk,” I teased.

“I’d much rather make love to you than walk on the beach.”

I almost choked on my tongue. Make love? I was somehow certain that those words had never passed through those beautiful lips of his before. “Mercy?”

“Hmmm?”

“I think I love you, too.”

My heart turned to mush. I smiled and kissed him again.

I was able
to stay with Mercy until the moment before she was wheeled into the operating room. Watching her wave to me, looking so small on that gurney was the worst feeling in the world. I wanted to run after her, protect her. But whatever this was, it was bigger than me. I couldn’t do anything but support her. Love her.

My cell buzzed in my pocket.

Brody: Did they take her back yet?

Me: Yep.

Brody: You ok
ay?

Me: I don’t know.

Fifteen minutes later, Brody and June walked into the waiting room holding hands. I damn near cried when I saw him. June was crying. I had to hold it together for Mercy. If she knew I’d been upset, she would get upset.

An hour and a half later, Dr. Golden stepped into the room, untying his surgical mask from behind his head. He shook my hand, then Brody and June’s. “Mr. Harrison. We were able to remove the entire tumor. I’m sending it to the lab so that we’ll know exactly what we’re dealing with. To me it looked like a phyllodes tumor of the breast.”

“What exactly is that?”

He blew out a breath. “It’s extremely rare and complicated. The fact is that it could be a blessing. A lot of the time phyllodes tumors are benign. But you get the rare ones that are malignant or seem to be somewhat borderline malignant. If it’s benign, we’re good. If it shows any indication of malignancy, I’ll have to recommend further treatment, possibly chemotherapy or radiation. Some people need a combination of the two. But first we need to identify the culprit, so to speak. Then we can make an action plan. I’ll call Mercy with the results if I get them sooner, but she needs to follow-up with me on Tuesday. Linda left a message on her phone with the appointment details. She also put an appointment card in the stack of discharge paperwork.”

I nodded and shook his hand again. “Thanks for taking care of her, Doc.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

June slammed into Brody and shook with sobs and I pinched the bridge of my nose, hard. I wasn’t much of a praying man, but right then and there, I thanked God for bringing her out of this and prayed for a benign test result.

Mercy was kept in the recovery area for another hour and then I was allowed to take her home. She was still groggy from the anesthesia. Brody and June went to my place ahead of us to get things settled at our place. We’d been at the hotel.

June was going to get her bed turned down and make some chicken soup we could eat for dinner later. I wheeled Mercy out of the automatic doors in a wheelchair that the outpatient facility provided. She’d started to protest the ride, saying that she was perfectly capable of walking on her own. I didn’t even have to argue with her. The nurse interjected, saying it was policy and she couldn’t leave without being wheeled to the car.

Her torso was bandaged underneath a hospital shirt that tied at the side. I offered her a button-up, but she refused, saying it would make a dress on her. It probably would have, but I’d like to see her wear it anyway.

Her head lolled to the side and finally came to rest on the window beside her. I drove home, letting the warmth from the sun-warmed car soak into my skin. Waiting rooms and hospitals in general were cold. I parked in front of my condo and went around to help her out. She stood up and I guided her to the steps. “I need to sit down.”

“Are you okay?”

She shook her head. A moment later, she vomited every ounce of the Sprite the nurse had given her to
make sure she could ‘keep things down’ before she left. So much for that. It wasn’t a little spew either. It was as if someone had shaken her up like a soda pop and then popped the top. Projectile at its best. Luckily, she’d only had fluid.

I grabbed her hair off her back and rubbed her back. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she sobbed. “I’m not okay, Jax.”

“Shhh. I’m here. Let’s get you inside.” She nodded and let me help her to her feet and then up the stairs. I would have carried her, but didn’t want to mess up her incision or hurt her.

Celeste ran across the street toward us. “She’s okay?”

I shrugged. “You tell me.”

“Don’t get smart with me. I’ll tan your hide.”

I just laughed at her as
she climbed the steps behind me. Her jewelry jingled with each step she took.

Celeste and June helped Mercy get settled. When they finally let me into the bedroom, she had been changed, her teeth brushed and her hair combed and pulled back into a long braid. She was sitting up in the bed, leaning into a pile of pillows behind her. Smiling at me, she motioned me in. I’d never seen her look so pale, or so small. She was tiny in my bed. Fragile and delicate.

I stood beside her and bent down for a kiss. She patted the bed next to her. “No. I don’t want to hurt you, baby.”

Celeste and June left the room quietly. “You won’t. I want you beside me. Please?”

I walked around to the empty side of the bed and climbed in next to her as slowly and gently as I could. She never let on that it had hurt or bothered her, just snuggled into my outstretched arm and was asleep less than a minute later. The sounds of her rhythmic breathing were all I could hear. Before long, I was asleep, too.

June and Brody
had stayed all afternoon and had made the most delicious-smelling chicken noodle soup while Jax and I napped. Well, he napped. I was pretty much catatonic. I probably had snored loudly and drooled all over him. Puking in front of him had been so embarrassing. I was not a puker. Some people puked frequently. I only vomited when there was no other alternative and I was dying.

The timer on Jax’s phone went off right after he left to take a shower. I couldn’t reach it, so I just let it chirp. June must have heard it, because she came in and silenced it. “Wanna go downstairs and have some soup?”

“I’ll go down with you, but I’ll wait for Jaxon to come down before I eat.”

She smirked. Her black maxi dress suited her perfectly. “You’ve got it bad.”

I smiled. “I know.”

“Well, come on. Time for your pain meds.”

“Yay,” I sarcastically replied. I knew I had to take them. In fact, the incision was starting to throb. I need them. After seeing my mom take anything she could get her hands on, I’d always promised never to take anything that I didn’t have to. But, right now, I had to take them. I’d just stop as soon as possible.

When Jax came downstairs fresh from his shower, June served us each a bowl of her soup. I sipped lightly, afraid that my vomiting episode would replay. Thank goodness, it didn’t.

The following couple of days repeated in much the same way. By Monday, I was about to climb the walls by way of my fingernails. Tuesday morning, I dressed myself, wound my hair into a thick bun and beat Jaxon to the car. He just chuckled as I fastened my seatbelt and exhaled into the warm sunlight.

Dr. Golden was right on time. He was the most punctual physician I’d ever seen in my life. He smiled as he entered the exam room. Shaking my hand and then Jaxon’s, he plopped down on the little rolling stool. “Alright. Good news and bad news.”

I snorted. Figured.

He looked up at me and continued. “The good news is that we got the entire tumor out. The results are back. Bad news is that the results regarding the malignancy were inconclusive. As I explained to Jaxon after surgery, and it’s now been confirmed, you have a phyllodes tumor. Or, had one, rather. Phyllodes are rare and really strange. Some are benign, while others are clearly malignant. Your tumor was neither. Occasionally, phyllodes tumors fall into an ‘in between’ category. They are neither completely benign
nor malignant, but fall somewhere in the border area in between. Yours was in this gray area. These types of tumors are rarely seen in women under the age of forty, but again, you don’t fit the mold, Mercy.”

I rolled my eyes. Damn Cha-Cha for being so weird.

Doctor Golden continued. “To be safe, I recommend a course of chemotherapy. Do you know what chemo is?”

“I’ve heard of it, but I guess I need
more information now.”

Handing me a flyer with the word “Chemotherapy” printed across the top in thick, bright yellow font, it began to sink in. “Chemo is just a form of therapy we can use to help shrink and get rid of cancer cells that may have been left in the body after we removed the tumor.”

Jaxon interrupted, “But I thought you got the entire thing out.”

“We did. But to be sure there isn’t anything else, the cells in her body need to be sort of cleaned out. If any cancer cells remain that could cause a new tumor or different kind of cancer, the chemo would get rid of them. Your specific type of breast cancer is rare. We’ve only had a few cases, so I consulted with a colleague of mine who has seen many more cases that mirror your own. He suggested a course of action and I would recommend we follow it.”

Golden went on to explain that every two weeks, I would receive an IV infusion of chemo medicine at the outpatient center. He said that the course of treatment would initially last three months but may be extended to six, or more if deemed necessary. This ‘dose-dense’ treatment was supposed to be effective ninety-eight percent of the time in cancer cases similar to mine. I couldn’t help wonder about the two percent for which the treatment was not effective, but wouldn’t let myself ask the question. I needed to be positive, and strong. I needed to kick cancer’s ass.

Jax was at
Shady tonight. I sat cross-legged on my bed with all of the pamphlets and paperwork that Dr. Golden had thrown at me. Chemo started tomorrow. I read through all of the horrifying side effects: anemia, diarrhea, fatigue, fertility problems, hair loss or changes, infection, memory loss, menopausal symptoms, nail changes, mouth sores, changes in smell and taste, vomiting, weight changes, and my favorite, vaginal dryness.

I wondered how long Jaxon would still want me when I was balding, puking and crapping everywhere with a dry vajayjay. If I was allowed, I would have started in on a luscious bottle of Cabernet. But, no. Cha-Cha had to be difficult and cause all sorts of these problems. I guessed it was easier to blame her, be angry at her. In all honesty, I’d been lucky. I was lucky to have found her before she became full-blown cancer. But staring
down the face of the trials I might be about to face, I didn’t feel all that lucky. I felt pissed off and scared.