From Ant to Eagle(56)

There were a few special days that stick out in my memory but even they didn’t seem so special. Mom’s birthday passed without anyone noticing it. Dad was always the one who made a big deal of it, reminding us to draw cards or make gifts, but either he forgot or just didn’t want to bother. There was a birthday party for a new patient put on by her parents, but Sammy couldn’t eat any cake so I just felt bad. Christmas was disappointing. Mom decorated the room and Dr. Parker showed up wearing a Santa costume but Sammy wasn’t feeling well enough to leave the room for the party in the games room so we stayed in our usual four-wall enclosure and exchanged gifts there.

Sammy was sitting on his bed wearing a Santa hat, the white fluff all but covering his eyes as he peered out beneath.

“Who goes first?” I asked, sitting next to him with a wrapped gift in my lap.

Sammy looked up at Mom like he’d forgotten his homework somewhere.

“Do you have it?” he asked her.

Mom handed him a small package the size of an egg. I could tell by the wrapping that Sammy had done it—there was about an entire roll of wrapping paper and two rolls of tape used to close it.

He handed me the tiny package. “You go first,” he said.

His eyes watched me closely as I unwrapped it. It took a while—I had to peel off the tape piece by piece—but when I finally got it open a keychain fell out into my lap. On it was a small coin the size of a quarter. One side of the coin was smooth silver while the other had a small painting of a bald eagle in midflight.

“Do you like it?” Sammy asked. “It has an eagle on it just like you. It was only fifty cents from the gift shop. Mom paid for it.”

“It’s great. I love it,” I said, but I felt a tightness in my throat as I said it. I leaned over and hugged him. “Thanks, Sammy.”

Next I handed him the gift from my lap. He needed Mom’s help getting it open and inside was a copy of The Headless Ghost.

Sammy looked at the cover.

“It’s a new Goosebumps book!” he exclaimed.

“Brand new!” I said. “It’s called The Headless Ghost and it just came out. I haven’t even read the first page or anything.”

“Will you read it to me?” he asked, handing me the book.

I pushed it back toward him. “Nope.”

He looked confused. “But I can’t read it.”

“Not yet,” I said. “But when you’re old enough to read I want you to read it to me. Until then, I’m not going to read it myself.”

Hope, I thought, don’t let him lose it.





CHAPTER 35

IT WAS SOME TIME SHORTLY AFTER CHRISTMAS THAT SAMMY’S condition took a sharp turn for the worse. His lungs began to hurt when he breathed, his legs became too weak to walk so we had to push him around in a wheelchair, his eyes never looked fully open and he hardly smiled anymore. Every part of him was falling apart bit by bit.

Dr. Parker sat across from Mom and Dad in our room while Sammy slept and I watched TV. I knew Dr. Parker had come to say something important because Mom and Dad hardly ever sat together anymore and they both looked nervous. I listened to what they were saying instead of watching Ninja Turtles.

“I wanted to talk to you about a plan,” Dr. Parker said. “As you know, the chemotherapies aren’t working. The cancer has continued to grow and at some point we need to start thinking about other options.”

“What do you mean, other options?” Dad asked.

“What I mean is, there comes a point when we need to stop fighting a losing battle. At some point we need to change our focus from trying to get rid of the cancer to keeping Sammy comfortable. As you know, the chemotherapies have side effects and if they aren’t working we’re only doing more harm by giving them.” Dr. Parker sighed, pushed his glasses up on his nose, and looked at my parents. “It is the consensus of the oncology team that the medications are not going to work going forward and we should consider making Sammy palliative.”

Palliative.

It meant we were done trying to treat Sammy’s cancer.

“But there are other things we can try,” Mom said, her voice sounding suddenly frantic. “There’s a trial going on in Georgia looking at a new medication that blocks a receptor or something important for the AML cells to grow. I have the article—” Mom’s hands shook as she reached for a book beside the bed.

“I know the trial,” Dr. Parker said. “It’s being run by an old colleague of mine. It would not benefit Sammy. The medication is only useful once remission has been induced. It is used to prevent relapses. It wouldn’t help Sammy.” Dr. Parker was shaking his head slowly and looking at the floor. I watched out of the corner of my eye, afraid that they would stop if they knew I was listening. Dr. Parker looked back up at Mom and Dad and continued, “We have already exhausted all the possible research trials that may benefit Sammy. We have gone through two medications still in the research phase and neither has worked. At this point, there is nothing more we can offer.” Dr. Parker looked like he was saddened by the sound of his own voice.

“Transplant,” Mom said. “What about a transplant?”

Dr. Parker shook his head.

Mom looked at Dad, her eyes wild with fear. “Then there are alternative therapies. Down in Mexico there’s someone offering a natural treatment for leukemia. It’s expensive but—”