“What’s going on?” he asks, sittingup.
“I’ve been experiencing tingling in my left side, and a few times, I’ve lost my balance and felt reallyweak.”
He pulls me closer to him, and I curl against his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, stroking myhair.
“I wasn’t trying to keep it from you, but if I said it out loud, it becamereal.”
“Can we gotoday?”
“I have an appointment over your lunch break. I’ll bring you a sandwich so you don't haveto—”
He cuts me off. “I don’t care about work or missing lunch. I’ll bethere.”
I reach up to kiss his lips and curl up into him again, enjoying our last few minutes in bed before he has to getready.
* * *
Connorand I meet at my doctor’s, and he holds my hand as we sit in the office, awaiting hisarrival.
“Dr. Shaw,” Connor stands, offering his hand when he walksin.
“Hello, Connor, Mackenzie,” he shakes my hand next, “I have good news and bad news foryou.”
Connor squeezes my leg as we sit silently. I close my eyes, praying one last time that my fears aren’t myreality.
“I’m sorry, but your scan shows the tumor hasgrown—”
Instantly, I burst into tears, covering my face with my hands. Shaking my head back and forth, I whisper, “No, no, no, no,” through mysobs.
Connor wraps his arms aroundme.
“There’s more. The good news is I think we can do the surgeryagain.”
“You think? But what about my daughter?” I ask bluntly. That’s all I care about now. If I die, fine, but I have to at least make it long enough to get to where she needs to be to live a long, healthylife.
“She’ll be fine. The surgery won’t affect her. I won’t know until I see firsthand, but if everything goes smoothly, and we can take out as much as we did last time, I think we can get you a few moremonths.”
“What do you mean?” I ask indisbelief.
“I can’t promise anything, but if what I’m seeing is correct, we could remove the tumor and be right back to where we started a few months ago. As long as there’s no growth on those pesky little fingers, I’d say you’d still have a year or longer. We’ll know more once we can get inside, but things are lookinggood.”
Connor’s face lights up. He squeezes my leg again, and a wave of relief floods through me. This is good. This is what I want. If I do this surgery, she’ll have more time to thrive andgrow.
I try not to get my hopes up until I know it’s real, but a few more months could mean I get to be with our daughter for that muchlonger.
The thought brings me hope. “Let’s do it then,” I state withdetermination.
Connor wraps his arm around me, pulling me in tighter as we hold on to the hope that my doctor’sright.
* * *
My surgery is scheduledfor a few days later, and I’ve been a wreck ever since we left the doctor’s office. Connor tried to keep things light, but I see it in his eyes. He’s as scared as Iam.
As I lay in the hospital bed, waiting to be taken to the OR, it feels like my nerves are about to get the best of me. My chest aches, and every breath I take feels shallower. Connor rubbing my hand takes me out of a near panicattack.
“Just breathe, baby,” Connor whispers, leaning down to kiss my hand. “She’ll beokay.”
“You choose her, you hear me?” I statefirmly.
