With Callum.
When I woke up that morning, I noticed I felt even more tired than when I went to sleep, and my body was achy, but again, I had written it off as just pain from not being that active in a while. Then, in the shower, my skin started hurting in that way when you know you're feeling sick.
Denial is quite the drug, and I just kept making excuses. But the reality is quite selfish, that I had experienced something I hadn't felt in months—a world where I wasn't a cancer patient, where there were no chemo appointments, and poking and prodding at doctors' offices, and talks of surgery and radiation.
I just enjoyed the day out with my otter, looking at actual otters.
I even forgot about the cancer completely for a while that day, until I reached up to scratch my head at one point and my wig shifted.
If I brought up that I was feeling sick, it would all come crashing down. And I had just thought it was a small cold, I would be fine. I had worked full days while sick before, and I had an entire day to rest when we got back to Starling Cove. Everything would be fine. Despite the back of my head, the warnings of my immune system being weak from the chemo rolling around. I ignored them because I wanted to live.
That was a huge mistake, clearly. One I paid dearly for.
I should have spoken up to Callum and told him the truth about how I was feeling.
I should have told him to drive us right to the hospital.
But, I didn't—and that's onme.
Everything after Callum lying me in his bed is all a blur. Callum told me I was delirious at that point, mumbling differentthings and then completely passing out on the way over.
I just remember waking up in a hospital bed, being so confused, and feeling like I had been hit by a truck. The emergency room doctor—Dr. Rashid—was there, comforting me, telling me everything was okay.
The only thing I could squeak out of my dry throat was, "C... Callum... Callum..."
Dr. Rashid assured me that he was there, that they would get Callum for me, but that they needed to walk me through what's going on. With a gentle voice, he explained that I was in protective isolation, my immune system couldn't defend itself against a tiny cold, and that I was responding well to antibiotics. He mentioned that my white blood cell count had dropped to a dangerously low level, almost nonexistent. Oncology was monitoring me, and everything seemed to be going well, but this might push back my treatment plan.
From now on, I would have to be more conscious of my immune system so this couldn't happen again, or the outcome would be deadly.
I took Dr. Rashid very seriously.
Callum took it like a strict set of military orders.
No grocery stores, no malls, no restaurants, no movie theaters, no crowded spacesat all.
If I am around people, I have to wear a mask, and Callum makes everyone else wear masks too. He bought KN95 masks for anyone else who needs to be around me. I've had to do the last couple of book club meetings on FaceTime while everyone gathered downstairs, and I stayed upstairs with Callum.
Dr. Rashid said that I should have trusted people around me to help, and that further isolation could do more harm than good at this point. So, I've temporarily moved in with Callum and Maeve.
Maeve hired a new employee, Morgan, for the store, a studentat the local community college. The extra help has given Callum some more time to spend with me. Plot has also decided that I am under his care and sleeps at my feet on Callum's bed, like a little gray sentinel guarding my sleep.
And well, it hasn't really been a hardship to live with Callum for the last month.
Waking up in his arms that weekend in Boston was an absolute dream, and now I'm living every day like that. The first thing I see when I open my eyes is my sleepy giant's face, and I can't help but smile and snuggle closer. I seek warmth in my sleep, always have, so I find myself practically wrapped around Callum in the morning, my face mushed against his warm chest, the sound of his heartbeat gently rousing me.
So, if we're looking at it from those lenses, the hospital stay would be worth it.
If only I didn't know how badly Callum tore himself up over guilt.
Two weeks ago, Tonya told me about his words and his guilt during a FaceTime call, saying that she, Atticus, and Jane had straightened him out. When I heard that, I promptly sat myself in his lap that night and very firmly told him that my falling sick was not his fault, that he could not blame himself.
"Don't be mad at the man I love," I growled at him, which did make him laugh a bit, even if I could still see a little bit of self-recrimination in his eyes. That just won't do.
"I just—" I kissed him to silence any objection, feeling him smile against my lips.
"You're not winning this one, otter," I murmured against his lips, nipping them. "Accept your inevitable defeat."
"If this is defeat," he grinned, reaching his hands up to cup my face. "What's victory like?"
