I've Still Got You, Darlin'.

Sallie sat in the doctor’s office as he took her blood pressure. She felt the familiar numbness in her right arm that wouldn’t go away – the numbness eventually carried on down her arm, into her hand and shoulder. The pressure started to hurt.

She tried to take her mind off it by thinking about other things – like when her sister first suggested she go to the doctor. Elaine, Sallie’s sister, had noticed her breathing shorten more than usual when she ran after her kids, cleaning up their toys.

“Okay, all done,” Doctor Letterman said and released the pressure on the arm band. “I’m afraid your sister was right. You have most of the symptoms (the doctor didn’t use big words like most other doctors; he tried as best he could to be understood). I’m going write you an emergency slip for the hospital and I would like you to go immediately to get more tests done. In the next few days, if not today,” he tries to reassure, “it’s just better to be safe, right?”

“Yeah…yes.” Sallie stared blankly at the doctor while he typed technical words on the computer screen that she couldn’t understand. She looked disbelievingly at her kids and couldn’t help but mentally scream a string of curse-words.

“Will you be able to pop in quickly today? They’ll run some scans so is there anywhere you can take your kids?” he asked. Sallie nodded supportively.

“Okay, here you go.” He handed her the slip. “That has all your symptoms on it, so don’t lose it. No offence, but I really hope I don’t see you again,” he chuckled heartily, half wondering if she actually took offence.

Sallie simply smiled warmly as a reply and left the room with her two children.

Sallie didn’t know that she would be in big trouble.

- * -

I am so sick of this white ceiling, she thinks. Why can’t they paint it a better colour?

The Medicine Lady comes into her hospital room, signalling that it is nine o’clock, and of course, time for her meds. Sallie always looks forward to the hour after this, because that’s when the pain killers actually kick in.

She gulps them down quickly and stares at the Medicine Lady, waiting for the pain to subside. She then closes her eyes, wishing for it to hurry the fuck up so she can manage a two hour sleep before the pain comes back and wakes her up for two hours.

This is a cycle – it coincides with her chemotherapy treatment cycle – that is repeated everyday, and it is so boring for Sallie, she doesn’t even know what day it is. The chemo has drained every inch of her so that she can’t muster enough emotion to regret ever smoking – or giving into that peer pressure at thirteen to start.

She thinks about the first day she came, and that really cute intern who would be hers soon enough. Sallie remembers her first thoughts of him, and what she thought he thought of her. Then, she frowns slightly, and remembers that that has all changed now – that she isn’t as desirable because of the cancer.

She watches as the Medicine Lady pushes the cart around the room and checks her I.V. and Morphine drip – which is on a very low dose, Sallie adds – and then leaves with her grey cart into the room next door. The Medicine Lady hardly ever lets go of that cart – something about the previous Medicine Lady getting fired because she took her eye off it for a second and a patient stole drugs from it. Sallie wasn’t really listening when she went on about it.

Sallie goes back to staring disapproving the room colour and empties her mind of all worries. It has been five months since she had started her lung cancer chemotherapy. One month to go, she promises herself. Then I’ll be out of here.

“Good morning, Ms Sallie, how are you today?” Her new doctor, dressed in a long, white coat with a blue shirt, perfect black trousers and a patterned tie walks in, and Sallie cheers up slightly because she thinks he’s extremely cute. Even thought she’s bald, she still puts the moves on him.

“I’m doing fine, thank you. The Medicine Lady came over in what I think is ten minutes ago, but I can’t be too sure, because time is still backwards for me,” she answers honestly with a wary smile.

He looks at her simply, but to Sallie, it is a look of contemplation, of confusion. He sits down on her bed and she wonders what he is thinking, but her attention soon turns to what he has to say next.

“Would you like to go for a walk? We need to get your exercise up again so you will be able to leave when the cancer is gone.” Nice excuse, she thinks.

“Sure. I’d love to.” He helps her out of bed and she steps lightly on the linoleum floor.

They make their way down the corridors through to the garden slowly. Sallie stumbles a little but manages to keep her composure.

They sit down on a white park bench next to a bird bath and Sallie says, “Do you know what the worst things about this are?”

“I have a fair idea.” He lets go of her arm and she motions for him to continue. “I think you hate that you having to be stuck in here with a boring doctor who can’t ask you out on a date,” he laughs nervously.

“That, but other stuff, too. I hate that I’m missing out on my kids’ lives and that they have to stay with their father because I won’t let them see me like this and I hate that I have no hair. I hate that I ever started smoking and I hate that I nearly killed myself because of it,” Sallie rambles and stops shortly after, gaining her breath back.

“It’s all right, you know. The chemotherapy tests will come back and you will be healthy again. I won’t make promises, because nowadays, promises are easily broken, but I give you my word. When you get out of here, you won’t be back,” Doctor Suarez assures her.

Sallie thinks a minute before saying, “Are you always this… nice, with other patients?” She turns slightly and looks at him.

“Nope. Just you,” he answers with a big cheery grin that Sallie can’t help but laugh at. A few minutes later, his pager goes off.

When Sallie is back in her room and lying down, the pain comes back. And it is worse than ever, but she doesn’t care. She can finally – after five months of sickness – feel again. Emotionally, that is. She feels happy for more than two minutes at a time. And when she keeps thinking about him, her happiness stays.

-*-

A week later, he comes in, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around for a few days. Being an intern sucks, but I do what I got to do to get higher, y’know?”

“It’s all right. You’re a doctor, I get that,” she replies and looks out the four-paned glass window.

“So, how are you feeling? Three weeks until you get tested, you must be nervous,” Doctor Suarez states.

“I have my good days and I have my bad. The usual,” Sallie says, bored. “I just can’t wait to get out of here – no offence.” He smiles at her.

“None taken, even though I know you’re lying. I know you’ve been through a hard time. I know,” he says and she starts feeling uncomfortable, because they’ve never talked about how transparent she is until now. “But you don’t have to hide from me. I’m here to help you get better. So don’t hide,” he breathes and thinks how stupid he is, because that is so not professional.

“Okay. I won’t.” Sallie and her specialist doctor – Doctor Suarez – had talked a lot during his visits. About light-hearted stuff, stuff that would make Sallie smile and laugh. It made both the doctor and Sallie happy for a few moments, and that was all that really mattered.

Doctor Alex Suarez nods calmly to her and opens up her curtains for her to let the sunlight in. Sallie takes this opportunity, seeing as he turned all grave on her, to turn serious.

“Thanks, Alex – can I call you Alex? You’ve made me feel happier than I have been since the divorce. Thank you for helping me, even though you didn’t have the choice.” She looks away.

“No problem.” And cue silence. It’s a comfortable silence, though, and Sallie is content enough.