“Gwen’s okay,” I said to Susan. “She’s at Cedars. I’m going to pick her up now.”
Susan slammed down the office phone and visibly slumped. “Oh, thank God. Do you need my help with anything?”
“No, but if I do, I’ll let you know. I’m obviously going to be out for the remainder of the day.”
I stormed past Susan trying to make sense of how I was feeling.
Relief that Gwen was okay.
Fury at whomever hit her.
And another sensation I couldn’t quite place.
Anger atmyself?
It started to crystallize on the drive to the hospital, maybe because the route was familiar in the worst possible way.
I couldn’t stop the flood of memories. Of pain.
Cedars-Sinai was the last place I saw my mother alive.
Dad had taken her around the world on a desperate search for a successful treatment, from Switzerland to Singapore. The search had ended back at Cedars, with an experimental treatment we all knew was risky. Nothing was slowing the cancer’s progression, so the ex vivo procedure combined with a firestorm infusion of chemo had been her last hope.
I cleared my throat at the image of her in bed, surrounded by her boys. How fucking naive and hopeful we’d been, joking about how she’d be drinking margaritas with us in no time.
We could all see that she was a shadow of the vibrant woman we loved. The lighthearted chatter was our attempt to ignore what was right in front of us.
Still, we were filled with hope until hours later when her doctor summoned us to a private room down the hall.
They’d lost her on the operating table.
I gripped the steering wheel harder and blinked back my tears. Obsessing about what had happened wouldn’t change a thing. Reliving the most painful days of my life was pointless. The onlyway through was to focus on what Icoulddo and blot out any associated emotionality.
Losing myself in messy emotions wouldn’t serve me, so I pushed them deep down and mapped out how the next few hours would unfold.
I’d arrive at the hospital and force myself not to throttle the people answering phones.
I’d discuss any treatment next steps with the nurses and doctor.
I’d take Gwen back to her place and make sure she had everything she needed.
And everything would go back to normal.
My palms went sweaty as I walked into the hospital and got a hit of that distinctive, stomach-turning hospital smell. It had to be the floor cleaner, because the cloying smell was everywhere around me.
I strode up to the help desk. “Gwen Ackland.”
If I said anything else, I risked losing my shit on someone who probably didn’t deserve it.
The woman tapped on her laptop. “Yes, she’s in room three thirteen.”
I walked past the chair my father had collapsed into when we had to leave the hospital without my mother. He’d buried his face in his hands and wept while my brothers and I circled him protectively.
A woman joined me on the elevator, her pale face beneath a knit cap a reminder of how many people were still at war against their illnesses.
A war my family had lost.
The anger stoked up inside me again, and it felt so much better than sadness.
