From Ant to Eagle(38)

Mom pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket on which she’d made a list. I can’t say I remember what any of them were but Dr. Parker sat patiently beside her and answered them all.

Sammy and I were busy inspecting our new prizes. We didn’t know who the London Hurricanes were but it didn’t matter, a new baseball was a new baseball and we were both pretty excited.

Dr. Parker was still talking with Mom when Sammy’s nurse came back in with an IV bag in hand. She hesitated when she saw Dr. Parker but he waved her in.

“How are you feeling today, Sammy?” she asked.

He shrugged. He was too interested in the ball to care so she went about doing her usual routine. She hung another bag on the IV pole—this one an orangey colour—then pushed a few buttons on the box that was attached lower down on the pole. “Okay, I’ll be back to check on you periodically. If you need any help getting up to the loo, just push the call button on the side of your bed.”

As Dr. Parker started to leave he turned one last time to Sammy and me. “Don’t forget to go to Bingo night tonight—six pm in the games room. It’s a favourite of the kids around here. Great prizes.”

I nodded. I’d already intended to go after Oliver had mentioned it. I just hoped Sammy would be able to go too.





CHAPTER 24

SAMMY’S RETCHING STARTED SOONER THAT DAY. IT WAS LIKE A horrible metronome keeping track of the time. Minute, retch, minute, retch, minute until nothing more came out—just gags and groans and gargles.

When Dad showed up it was almost noon and Mom looked cross. “What took you so long getting here?”

The whites of his eyes were a bright red and for the first time in a while he hadn’t shaved. Black bristle daubed with white covered his face. “Sorry,” he said, then he sat on the end of Sammy’s bed. “How ya’ feeling, sport?”

Sammy answered with a heave.

I spent Day Two the same way I spent Day One—bored. Sammy rotated between heaving and sleeping while I watched TV or tried to get him to play Connect Four. I even offered to read him more of The Secret Garden but he said no, and since I wasn’t really interested in the book either, I put it aside.

By mid afternoon Mom had softened a little toward Dad and they sat on their bed reading. Mom continuing her book on cancer, Dad rotating between different magazines from the library.

I spent a few hours playing video games in the games room, secretly hoping Oliver would show up but he never did. When I couldn’t look at the words Game Over another time I returned to my cot and argued with the clock to hurry up. It was stubborn. The minute hand never slowed or sped up, it just trucked along at the same horribly slow pace.

“It’s almost six o’clock,” I announced at five forty-five. “You ready for Bingo night?”

Mom set down her book and looked at the clock. “I don’t think Sammy feels up for Bingo night. He’s had a rough day.”

“I’m okay,” Sammy lied as he suppressed another gag. “I feel fine.”

Mom looked doubtful. “Are you sure?”

“Sure as sure,” I said, answering for Sammy as I hopped out of my cot.

Sammy was less enthusiastic in his dismount but climbed from bed all the same. His hospital gown had come undone and Mom took a few minutes tying it back up. Outside the room I could already see a slow stream of children and parents moving toward the games room.

Dr. Parker was right. Bingo night was a floor favourite. It was run by a group of volunteers that looked like they were probably in high school wearing red vests with embroidered teddy bears on the front. The head of the volunteers was a girl named Marribeth; she had crooked teeth and a raspy voice. “You know the routine, everyone grab a card, a dabber and have a seat,” she said smiling, only her croaky voice made her sound grumpy.

We sat at a table near the back and watched as more and more children entered.

“Cal,” Sammy said, pulling on my sleeve as he watched a mother walk in with a little boy not much bigger than he was. “Why do they all look so weird?”

The boy looked no different than the rest of the kids on the floor—bald and skinny as a toothpick. “They have cancer,” I said, leaning in close so no one would hear me.

“But why don’t they have hair? I have cancer and I have hair.”

Sammy looked genuinely frightened.

“I think that’s from the medicine,” I said.

“Will I lose my hair?” he asked, reaching up and touching his head as if to check that it was still there.

I wished Mom would stop talking to the lady at the table next to ours so she could rescue me from the conversation. I didn’t want to lie but I didn’t want Sammy to start crying either.

Thankfully, Oliver walked in at that moment, followed by his mother pushing his IV pole. She was still wearing the same polka dot outfit from the day before—or maybe she had a few of the same outfits. He walked straight up to our table. “You ready to win some prizes?” he asked, taking the empty seat on the other side of me. He looked over at Sammy and smiled.

“You’re Sammy right? I’m Oliver.”

Sammy nodded back but looked intimidated. He’d never been a shy kid before he’d gotten sick but something had changed in him since coming to the hospital. He wasn’t the boisterous little brother who talked incessantly even when I wanted him to be quiet. He’d become a shy little kid who hardly talked when the nurses came in the room and never had questions despite people constantly asking him over and over again if he did. I’d thought initially it was because he was too weak but looking at Oliver, who was twice as frail as Sammy, I realized it must have been something different. In fact, looking around the room, all the kids looked frailer than Sammy—the room was full of gaunt, skeleton-like frames attached to tubes and IV poles.