Dad goes in for his scan to see if his treatment is working. The goal is to have the tumors removed. When he was first diagnosed, the tumor was six centimeters, and the doctor wants to get it down to four centimeters. I’m not able to go since I need to hold down the fort at work.
Mom’s worried Dad isn’t going to go through with the surgery. It's been four months since he started radiation therapy, and it's suggested that we wait at least six months before agreeing to surgery.
Dad gave us a “maybe” about the surgery.
He's exhausted, weak, and sometimes out of it. It's hard for him to keep food down. The doctor wrote him a prescription for medicinal marijuana to help combat the nausea and vomiting when he tried eating.
He's a lot gigglier and hungrier now.
After everything Riley has done for me, creating a system I can get used to, a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. But I still need to use my notebook to write down what needs to be done, or I'll forget. I carry it around withme everywhere I go in case I think of something last-minute that needs to be added.
I've never had a moment of peace in my head. There was always something that stirred around and wouldn't leave me alone. It’s been a little bit quiet lately, and I’ll take whatever I can get.
When my phone rings, I grab it off my desk and sit in my chair. Ellie's name flashes on my screen, and I don’t let it get to the second ring before answering.
"Hey.”
"Hey." Her voice wobbles.
"Ellie?"
She sniffles. "Yeah, sorry. Um, so dad's fine, the tumor is shrinking slowly. Obviously, we know that it's going to take some time."
"Okay," I say cautiously. "That sounds like good news."
"It is."
"Then why are you crying?"
Frustration builds inside me as I wait for her to say whatever it is that she’s upset about. I inhale through my nose to calm myself.
She clears her throat and blows air through the phone speaker. "Dad doesn't want to have the surgery."
"Why? It's going to help him.” My tone is clipped, mixed with confusion.
"I don’t know.” She lets out a ragged breath. “The doctor explained the surgery and how it’ll be effective, but he didn’t seem interested. I’m annoyed and upset, but I didn’t push him to explain."
"What about Mom? What did she say?"
“She didn’t say anything. She just sat there and listened, which is a first. I’m surprised Mom didn’t speakup.”
"So that's it? He isn't having the surgery?" I run a hand through my hair and tip my head back.
“That's what it sounds like.” She answers someone in the background. “I need to get back. You need to see dad when we get back home. Okay? Maybe you can convince him to get the surgery.”
I take my glasses off, set them on the desk, and rub at my face.
"August?"
"Yep.” I force the words out. “I'll talk to him."
"Okay, I'll talk to you later. Bye."
She hangs up, the phone still pressed to my ear. My head isn’t quiet anymore. Instead, a million thoughts run through my mind, and they won't shut up. Work, Dad, Riley, Work, Dad, Riley. Dad. Dad.Dad.
Why is he giving up?
My grip tightens on the phone, and before I can stop myself, I whip it across the room. It lands on the couch with a dull thud.
