From Ant to Eagle(29)

CHAPTER 17

AFTER SCHOOL I FOUND MOM SITTING IN THE CAR AT THE FRONT of the school with her eyes closed. I’d expected a lengthy discussion on what the doctors had found and what they’d decided to do, but it turned out that not much had happened throughout the day. Mom spoke slowly and I realized she likely hadn’t slept much in the last twenty-four hours as she kept losing track of what she was saying and starting over.

“It’s been slow so far. Just a bunch of telling and retelling what happened yesterday to various doctors,” she said.

“Which doctors, Mom? Who?” I asked.

“I can hardly keep track of them all. Let’s see, there was a Dr. what-was-his-name, a nice man with a bowtie, Dr. Sommerville, the neurologist. He’s a brain doctor. They want to do a test called an EEG. They might have already done it by the time we get there. And the infectious disease doctors came by, apparently they deal with all the bacteria and infections kids get. They said they could do some tests to see if Sammy has mono. They drew some more blood. We’ve had lunch and we’re waiting for dinner. Sammy’s looking better. He slept through the night. He’s looking forward to seeing you. He keeps asking when you’re getting there.”

We entered the hospital through the main entrance, which was a lot nicer than the emergency waiting room. Large sliding doors opened to a wide foyer. A sign on the wall read, Please Wash Your Hands, and a hand sanitizer pump hung below it. I watched my mom pump clear gel into her hands, rubbing it around so it disappeared and dried like magic. I did the same, then followed her as she walked through the lobby. She walked quickly and I struggled to keep up as I looked around. To my right, a large tank full of coral and exotic fish, to my left, the monotonous drone of voices and dishes clattering in the cafeteria, ahead, the elevators.

Unit 31—General Pediatrics, the sign read as we got off on the third floor. Sammy’s room looked similar to the one in the emergency department but it was less plain and had a TV at the end of his bed.

I nearly laughed when I first saw Sammy. He looked like something straight out of a horror movie. He was awake and less pale than the day before but his head was wrapped in one of those turban things certain people wear. At the top of the turban, wires shot out like branches.

“What is that thing?” I laughed, walking up to him.

“It’s called an EEG,” an unfamiliar voice said.

I nearly jumped. I hadn’t noticed the man sitting in the chair beside Sammy’s bed as I’d walked in.

“It measures the brainwaves in his head to make sure everything is firing correctly.”

His voice was deep but gentle and his white, fluffy hair reminded me of Santa Claus. Come to think of it, a lot about Dr. Parker made me think of Santa Claus. I remember liking him the moment I met him.

He stood up from the chair and shook Mom’s hand. She seemed equally surprised to see him.

“I’m Dr. Parker. Please, come in and sit down. I’ve just been talking with Sammy and your husband. It turns out Sammy and I have the same birthday and we were just bouncing ideas off each other about what the best party would be this year. I had recommended bowling,” he said with a chuckle.

Mom sat next to Dad and I stood off to the side, unsure where my place was.

“Now that you’re all here, I suppose I should tell you why I’m here,” Dr. Parker said. “I’m afraid I’m not just here to plan birthday parties.” He paused for a moment looking around the room. I would soon learn that Dr. Parker always paused. I guess he had learned over the years that what he had to say was not easy to hear, and pauses increased what his patients retained from nearly nothing to slightly above that. “I’m with the oncology team. I’m here because something has come up on Sammy’s blood tests that will need to be investigated further.”

“What’s oncology?” I asked looking around the room. Mom and Dad looked like they were going to pass out.

“Cancer,” he replied.





CHAPTER 18

THERE WERE MANY WORDS SAID IN THE HOSPITAL THAT DAY that I didn’t understand—cancer was not one of them. My grandpa had died of lung cancer just before Sammy was born. Dad had told us it was because he smoked. Back in London, I’d had a friend whose mom had cancer in her back, or something like that, and she had also died. Cancer seemed to be everywhere. Everywhere adults were, that is. Not kids. I had never heard of kids getting cancer.

It had to be a mistake.

Our doctor had thought it was mono, what happened to that idea?

Mom must have been thinking the same thing. “How sure are you that this is…cancer?” she asked.

Dr. Parker sighed and pushed his round glasses up his nose. “We can’t be sure until we’ve done a bone marrow biopsy, but at this point, I’m fairly certain. Sammy’s blood cells are all low, which explains why he’s been tired, out of breath and bruised, but we also saw something called a blast cell, which normally is only in the bone marrow. When we see it in the blood, it makes us think there might be something wrong. It makes us concerned about leukemia.”

Leukemia? Blast cells? Bone marrow bio…or whatever he’d called it. Dr. Parker seemed to be speaking in a different language.

“What’s that thing you said?” I asked.

Dr. Parker turned to me with a sympathetic look on his face. “What was what thing?”