Marching On

Chapter 26

"I don't need to be looked at," urged Lavin, pushing the aging nurse's hand away from her ribs. "I am completely fine! I want to see my father."

"Her Majesty insisted, ma'am," the nurse said with a touch of agitation in her tone. Her hands proceeded to move towards Lavin's ribs again.

Lavin's bodyguard Essie stood near the front door of the examination room. She was not speaking but merely looking at Lavin with mixture of sympathy and irritation.

"Listen to the nurse, Lavin," she said to the young princess as if she were a child again.

"Ahhh!" exclaimed Lavin, slapping the nurse's hand away once more.

"Bruised ribs," noted the nurse curtly.

Lavin's hand hovered over her throbbing ribs. "You see, bruised ribs, nothing to do but just let them heal." She looked to Essie. "What room is he in?"

"Once you're taken care of I'll take you to your family," Essie explained and not for the first time.

"Take these," the nurse said, holding out a small plastic container with three tiny round pills and a cup of water. "For the pain."

Lavin swiftly popped them into her mouth and swallowed.

"Thank you," she said to the nurse. She looked to Essie. "Now may we go?"

"No," the nurse interceded. "I'm going to wrap your ribs with ice to minimize the swelling. And then you may leave."

Lavin remained silent while she watched the nurse leave the room. Her eyes watched the clock as the nurse left to fetch the bag of ice. She returned three minutes later and it took another few minutes to secure the bag with plastic wrap.

"Keep that on for thirty minutes, okay?" the nurse instructed.

"Yes, yes," answered Lavin impatiently, already hopping off the padded table.

Lavin hastily thanked the nurse for her help and ushered Essie out of the room. She desperately wanted to be with her father and the rest of her family. She needed to know what happened.

Essie was not walking quickly enough for Lavin's liking but saying something would only cause her bodyguard to continue at a much slower pace.

They turned a corner and Lavin saw they were headed towards the elevators and suddenly she had the greatest impulse to run from St. Bartholomew's Hospital. If she ran she would remain blissfully ignorant of her father's condition.

The elevators dinged, there metallic doors casting a distorted reflection of Lavin and Essie before the door opened. They stepped in, Essie standing in front of the buttons and Lavin to the back gripping the handrail.

Essie pressed for floor six, the oncology centre.

The waiting room was in a private area just left of the elevators. Only her family occupied it currently: her grandfather, arms crossed over his chest, brooding silently as he watched the city below; her grandmother was sitting between Alex and Ben as she wildly retold the polo match from her perspective, trying her best to lift her grandsons' spirits.

Her mother, however, was sitting at the end of the row of seats, hands folded in her lap sitting as straight as an arrow.

Temperance's head shot up when Lavin's riding boots were first heard tapping on the tile floor.

"Lavin," she exhaled just above her breath.

Lavin only managed a grimace but Temperance seemed to have slightly relaxed.

"What did they conclude?" she asked, staring at the ice bag protruding from Lavin's side.

"Ribs are a bit bruised," said Lavin dismissively as she took a seat next to her mother. "How's dad?"

Temperance shook her head. "No one's told us anything yet."

Then, just as if Temperance had summoned him, a doctor similar in age to her parents came through the white double doors. He did not wear the signature white coat Lavin had come to identify all doctors by, but was dressed in slacks and a simple button-up; the only clue of his status was the stethoscope hanging limply around his neck.

"Your Majesty--" the doctor began to bow his head.

"Please," Temperance said, waving her hand. "There's no need for that here. Tells us anything you can."

"Regrettably, we've discovered new tumors around the lymph nodes in his chest. His lymph nodes are swollen which cause the shortness of breath that led to him fainting. I advise more aggressive chemotherapy and strongly suggest we start immediately."

The doctor placed his hands over his own chest seemingly to show them where Fredrick's newest tumors lay.

"Wh-what does that mean?" Lavin asked, stunned.

"Your father is now considered to be in Stage III lymphoma."

"What's the prognosis?" Alex asked grimly.

The doctor pushed his glasses further up his nose. "There is a moderately high survival rate within any stage of lymphoma as long as it is taken care of early. However, we will keep monitoring His Majesty in case new tumors develop."

"So, he'll be staying here then. How long?" asked Ben, wringing his hands together.

"We're going to keep him overnight so we can make sure there aren't more tumors. Then we'll move onto treatment straightaway."

The doctor excused himself and retreated through the same door. Lavin watched it swing on its hinges as it slowed and finally stopped, mind cluttered with thousands of thoughts.

"Moderately high survival rate," Ben repeated. "That's good, right?"

No one said anything.

Ben looked around at each of their faces, lost and terror-stricken, until his eyes fell on Lavin's; she shrugged unknowingly.

Hours passed and no one moved from their seats in case they were to miss the unannounced arrival of the doctor. Even when food was brought for them they did not touch it; in fact, the smell nauseated Lavin.

Then, finally after an eternity, the double doors swung open again. Lavin's heart stopped and then started all in the same moment when she saw the doctor wearing an unreadable expression.

Temperance stood up, anxiety emitting from her every movement.

The doctor held his hands out to her, directing her back to her perch. "You may want to sit down, ma'am."

Lavin looked swiftly to her brothers. Their eyes already on her looking for support; she steeled her face and nodded reassuringly before looking to the doctor.

He was twiddling his fingers in miniature circles, clearly nervous. Lavin assumed being the bearer of bad news was a role this man, though often played, did not find particularly satisfying.

"Further tests show. . . . that the tumors around the lymph nodes are indeed embedded in His Majesty's lungs."

A choke emitted from the depths of Temperance's throat; Lucy was soon at her side, arms cradling her.

Lavin clenched her jaw and willed herself not to cry in front of her family.

"What can be done?" she asked, her back now ramrod straight.

"There are a number of things: more treatment to see how the tumors react; and, if they do not, surgical removal of the tumors if they prove to be operable."

"All right." Lavin nodded, her expression ever stoic. "Proceed with whatever must be done as long as my father approves."

"Right."

That was the last thing the doctor said before giving a sympathetic and courteous head nod and leaving the Danish royal family to the devastating news.

Lavin tuned out her mother's wracking sobs and Lucy's soft whispers. She became blind to her brother's pleading eyes. It was only her grandfather that did not beg to be comforted; maybe he hadn't heard the doctor or maybe he was just tuning out like she.

The future queen was within her own head with her own thoughts and while she desperately worried about her father only one aching thought came to mind:

I have to break Harry's heart yet again.