Saviour

Opening my eyes slowly, my eyes met the ever-familiar sight of the white ceiling above my room. I didn’t bother with trying to think of anything in particular, I was in hospital. I knew this; I’ve known this for a while now.

I’ve been in this hospital now for 3 months, my body was slowly giving up I think. I didn’t want to go, I know this, but my body didn’t. The treatment was helping apparently, at least according to the doctor’s, but it wasn’t working fast enough.

Looking to my side, I saw the ever-present bunch of flowers and one or two balloons on the cabinet next to the hospital bed. They’d been here the whole time, my family coming by constantly and giving me praise, telling me I was doing good.

I suppose I should let you know who I am now. I am Kirsty Elise Armstrong. 25 years old, and leukaemia patient. This is why I’m here, why I’m stuck in this damned bed. I’ve been on chemotherapy for 3 years, but they’d decided to keep me in the hospital now. Apparently I was becoming a high risk patient.

I think in laymen terms, it means I’m going to die if something big doesn’t happen. My family wonder why I don’t cry to them, I know that there’s a chance my life could end, yet I show no emotion except from happiness towards them.

I cry enough at night; I don’t need to cry in the daytime.

To be more specific about my condition, I’ve got my laptop here and I can go on it though to be honest it’s getting harder and harder to use it lately, and I have ‘acute lymphoblastic leukaemia’. This means that my white blood cells, or my infection fighting cells, are abnormal, and they grow at a fast past too.

I’d come to terms with my disease, but the thing I couldn’t come to term with was my looks. I’d lost my hair, and it made me feel ugly. I was thin now too, almost anorexic looking in my eyes, and my skin wasn’t the beautiful tan it had been before. It looked like I was permanently seeing a ghost. I’d lost all the self-confidence I came here with, my happy bubbly attitude when my family was here was all a façade.

They told me I was still beautiful, but I did not feel it anymore. No one could like a bald girl. Not that it matters now anyway.

“Hello Miss Armstrong,” The door opened up and my doctor, Dr Ian Hamilton, came through, a nurse in tow behind him. He began to go over my vitals whilst making the normal chitchat, but my eyes noticed the nurse. My doctor noticed this and smiled.

“Ahh I see you’ve realised this isn’t your normal nurse, Miss Arthur, I’m afraid she’s been transferred to San Diego, to the Scripps Mercy Hospital. She’s one of the head nurses over there in the cancer ward, which I’m sure you’ll be happy for her about,” I smiled and nodded.

I’d always liked Mary, or Miss Arthur; she was nice and made me laugh when I didn’t really want to.

“Well this is our newest nurse here, Mr Haner. He’s going to be your nurse from now on is that ok?” I smiled and nodded. I always thought nurse was a stupid name for a guy, but don’t fault the medical profession.

“Ok Kirsty, I’m going to check up on our other patients now. I’ll be back later to give you your next round ok?” Nodding I watched him leave before looking over at Mr Haner. He was stood at the foot of my bed, reading over my vitals on the clipboard that went at the end.

The fact he wasn’t looked at me helped me to be able to look at him properly, get a feel of what he was going to be like.

He looked tall, taller than me anyway as I was only 5’3, but he looked to be around 5’11, near the 6 foot mark. Tall enough that’s for sure. He had the type of tan I’d used to have, and I realised he was wearing a long sleeved uniform.

The ends of his sleeves pulled up a bit as he noted down today’s vitals in the necessary boxes, revealing the ends of tattoos on his arms. He was tattooed? I’d never met someone who had tattoos in the medical career, and I’ve now met a lot of people here.

Turning his head towards me, I noted that he had high cheekbones, and wondered if he was Native American. But he didn’t look it overall, just in that one area. His eyes were a wonderful shade of brown, relaxing to look at I suppose. He looked kind, something I was pleased because you don’t want a mean nurse.

Noticing that I was looking at him, the corners of his mouth turned upwards in a grin, which was infectious and cheeky. I couldn’t help but smile back at him, a tint of pink colouring my cheeks. Which most likely looked bright red, as I was so pale now.

“So you’re Kirsty Elise Armstrong am I correct?” I nodded in response; I didn’t talk much unless I had to.

“Ok well as Dr Hamilton said, I’m Brian Haner, your new nurse. You can call me Mr Haner, but I’d prefer Brian please. I don’t really like being called Mr Haner, my dad’s that. Literally,” My eyebrows furrowed in confusion at this.

“I’m Brian Haner Jr, he’s Brian Haner Sr, so he literally is Mr Haner,” I made an ‘o’ noise and he chuckled, his smile completely infectious.

“So you’ve got your next bout of chemotherapy in about an hour am I correct? For leukaemia?” I nodded once more and he chuckled again.

“You don’t talk much do you?” I shook my head and smiled weakly, I was tired already. I just wanted to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t. I had to be awake for my treatment. He nodded in mirror of me and smiled, placing the board back into its pocket at the end of my bed.

Exiting the room, I watched his back leave and let out a soft sigh. Oh how I wished I wasn’t stuck here in this god-forsaken place.

Sitting up, I pulled over one of the magazines I’d been left by my sister and opened it up, flipping through the pages lazily, my eyes just trailing over the words. I wonder if I’ll ever get better. I hope I will.

It seems that it’s only when you’ve got nothing to lose anymore that you really appreciate life I suppose. Nobody alive and in normal circumstances takes these things for granted. Like hair!

My sister moans about how her hair is too thick all the damned time, she always seems to forget that right now, I have no hair. I want it back so badly. It upsets me to know that I can’t die with the dignity I want.

A tear leaked down my face against my wishes, and I wiped it away furiously as the door opened up and Mr Haner walked in again. He smiled, before pausing upon seeing me crying.

“Are you ok Miss?” He asked, coming over and looking at me warily. I nodded furiously, causing him to sit on the edge of the bed. It was the nurse’s job to also comfort me I’d noticed.

“I can tell you aren’t, what’s wrong?” Biting my lip, I decided to tell him. After all he was going to be a prominent figure in my time here, however long or short it may be. May as well let him know.

“I want my hair back. I know there’s a chance I may not survive, and I don’t want to die without my hair. I feel it’s undignified, and it upsets me to think my friends and families last memories of me will be this bald, ugly, anorexic sick person lying in a bed,” A whimper left my lips as I finally came to proper terms with what they were going to see.

“Hey now, they won’t think that, they’ll remember every good moment they with you in their lives, your laughter, your smiles, your personality. And anyway, who says your going to die?” He grinned at me. I looked at him smiling and frowned slightly.

At that moment the door opened up, and Dr Hamilton walked in, looking very pleased.

“Kirsty, I have some very important news for you. Now, I think you and I both know that we’ve been worried about your chemotherapy. You responded at first but it appears your body has relapsed and isn’t taking to it anymore. We were worried that it would end up being a lost cause, as you may have heard that bone marrow transplants are hard to come by,”

My eyes widened at this information, was he telling me there was a chance I wasn’t going to live properly? My heart began to cave in itself and I felt the butterflies in my stomach. Only these weren’t nerves or anything, these were the feelings of impending death.

“But, I have some good news. We have been thinking of where to go from here, we didn’t want to give up on you Kirsty. You haven’t given up on us, and we decided to at least try to find a match for your marrow. And I am pleased to be able to tell you we have found you a match, or as near as you can get to a match for a marrow transplant,”

The panic of death was replaced by the nerves of excitement as I literally felt my stomach explode. I was going to get a bone marrow transplant? I might live then! I might be able to go back out alive!

“Who was it?” I asked eagerly, my smile big and bold. Dr Hamilton smiled and pointed at the man next to me.

“It turns out Mr Haner’s sister had a case of leukaemia when she was four, and all his family were tested. His results have been kept on file and he has volunteered to donate for you,” Looking at him, I bit my lip, unable to stop the tears from falling down my face.

“Thank you so much,” I whispered, knowing that getting the marrow was supposed to be a painful process.

“You’re welcome. I’m happy to help any patient,” He smiled broadly at me. I smiled back as Dr Hamilton left the room. Apparently they were going to prep up Mr Haner, and then as soon as possible I would be undergoing the surgery.

“You know, you’ve got a beautiful smile. And people don’t seem to recognise just how worthwhile a smile is. I barely saw you smile this morning, and then I see this, this bright gleaming thing of sheer happiness at being allowed to live. Not many people get to experience this,” Another blush spread across my cheeks.

“I’ll never be able to repay you for this,” I whispered softly, looking down.

He grinned broadly and leant down to my ear.

“Don’t tell anyone this until you’ve left, it goes against the hospital rules, but once you’re all better, because you will be, and you’re out of here. You can repay me by going on a date with me,” My eyes widened at this and I looked at him incredulously.

“How can you see anything in a nearly dying sick girl?” He just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

“In this profession, it’s not about how you look. It’s about what your personality is like, and even though I’ve not seen much of you. I know I will be, you’ll be in here for about a month after recovering, and I plan on getting to know you better. You can just promise me this now as repayment,” I was speechless.

I was ugly and bald, and yet this man seemed to see through this to myself. He’d seen me at my lowest point, I’d never cried to anyone before in my life. He was going to my saviour, and I’ve only known him for an hour.

Angels appear in all disguises it seems.