They introduce themselves, and I’m even more confused.None of their names are registering.
“Gynecologist?”Declan asks one of them.
She nods.“Gynecological surgeon.I was called in after Ms.Stevens’s scan results.I’m here as a consulting physician to Dr.Lavenda.I apologize that it took me so long to get here.”
I rub my ear.The doctor sounds like she’s very far away, like at the opposite end of a tunnel.She’s talking about my scan, about my pelvis, about serious concerns and a prognosis and future testing but I can’t really assemble the words in my brain in a way that makes sense.
The room begins to zoom in and out.Graying out, then lighter and then black again.Like I'm underwater.Or lost in a forest, at the precise moment daylight turns to night.
Then I hear two words cut through the fog.I hear them clear as day.
Ovarian.
Cancer.
It goes black around me, and the darkness is throbbing and whooshing.Declan’s touching me but I don’t feel him.I’ve lost connection to everything.I’m weightless.And then I’m alone.
I have to be alone.
Because I will never ask anyone to carry this burden with me.Not even Declan.He didn’t want this, and he doesn’t deserve it.
I turn to him.“I want to go home now.”
“But…” he starts.
“Take me home.Now.”
Declan nods, then shoos the doctors and nurse out of my room.He gathers my belongings.While I get dressed, I hear him speaking softly to the doctors in the hallway.He’s gone only a few minutes before he returns.
I refuse a wheelchair.I want to walk out on my own and take at least one win from today.I ask Declan not to touch me.When we step outside, I stop in my tracks and breathe in the country air.There’re so many scents, from cows to hay to the bitter cold of the waning days of January.
“Take me home, flyboy,” I say.And then, I let him touch me.
Declan wraps his arm around my middle and I lean into him.He walks me to his Jeep, helps me up, and belts me in.I allow him to do this for me, even though I’m perfectly able to do it myself.
But I want him to experience this moment of control over something, to feel helpful in some way.
It’s an illusion, as we both know.
He starts the motor and backs out of the parking space.As we approach Yosemite Ranch, I roll down my window and breathe.
Because I can.
CHAPTER 43
Declan
Summer is silent the whole drive home.I try to speak on more than one occasion but can’t seem to find the right words to say.
It’s just the two of us in this Jeep, but we’re anything but alone.I keep picturing giant cartoon bubbles over our heads, so huge that they’re busting out of the roof and side doors and yet they’re still not big enough to hold all the questions and reactions and emotions spilling out of both of us in silence.
We’re drinking from a firehose of bad news.We’re in shock.My hands shake on the steering wheel.Summer won’t look at me.
I know myself pretty well.I like to fix shit.In fact, I feelcompelledto fix shit.I was taught from a young age to sniff out things that might not work as expected, figure out what’s gone wrong, and then stop whatever I’m doing and go fix it.
Beforeanyone has to point out to me that something is amiss.
On Yosemite Ranch, fixing what’s broken ensures the safety of everyone who lives and works there, protects our resources, and keeps everything moving in the right direction.It’s the same in the Navy.Same for StellaR Tech.
