Present Perfect(80)

I started dissecting the semester more. There were minor things that when I strung them together would have caused me concern. Why didn’t I string them together and pay attention? My parents had even brought it up during Thanksgiving, but I brushed it off as nothing. I had other things that occupied my time and attention. Two days ago when I got home for Christmas break I could no longer ignore it. In fact, my mom insisted something be done immediately. If she hadn’t forced my hand, I would still be blissfully ignorant with my life intact. Interesting how a little knowledge and two short words can demolish your entire world.





“Bone cancer.” Everything the doctor said after that was muffled.

It felt like I was under water, drowning. I was so confused. I came here because of a sprained ankle and the pain in my calf that had been persistent for a month. I thought the doctor made a mistake, had my x-rays mixed up with someone else’s. I looked over at my mom, who was sitting in the corner with tears rolling down her face. Why was she crying? It was just a sprained ankle.

“Amanda, did you hear me?” Dr. Thompson asked.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. The x-ray shows a tumor with irregular borders. That along with your weight loss, fatigue, and the leg pain you described, leads me to believe that’s what we’re dealing with. I’m going to send you over to Dr. Lang. He’s an excellent oncologist.”

His mouth moved and I heard noise coming out of it, but he must have been speaking a foreign language because I didn’t comprehend what he said to me.

My mom walked over to me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders securely. She placed her hand on top of mine as the doctor continued.

“It’s fairly rare that bone cancer develops as the primary cancer. It usually is a result of it having metastasized from another site, so we’ll test for that.”

“What are you testing me for?” I asked.

I didn’t understand what was going on. Why did the doctor look so serious and why was my mom getting more upset the longer he talked. Didn’t they realize it’s just a sprained ankle?

“We need to find out if the cancer has invaded any other organs,” he said.

“It’s just a sprained ankle,” I insisted. I looked up at my mom, my eyes pleading with her to make him understand. “Mom, tell him it’s just a sprained ankle.”

She pulled me into her and held me while stroking my hair. “Sweetie, we’re going to get through this.”

I abruptly jerked away from her and got up from the exam table. The anger was evident in my voice.

“Why won’t you tell him?!” I insisted.

I backed away as she took a step toward me. “TELL HIM IT’S JUST A SPRAINED ANKLE, MOM!”

My body started to convulse with sobs as I sunk down in one of the chairs. It felt like one of those dreams where you think you’re falling. You try to grasp on to something to stop the fall, then suddenly you wake up. It takes a second before relief sets in that it was only a dream. That’s how I felt only without the waking up part.

Mom’s arms encircled me as tears poured out of me. “It’s a lot for us to take in all at once,” she said to the doctor.

“I understand. Why don’t you go home and adjust. I’ll have my nurse call you about scheduling the MRI and appointment with Dr. Lang. If you have any questions, it’s a good idea to write them down. I wish you had come in earlier when you first noticed the symptoms.”

I looked up at him. My face was drenched in tears. “I didn’t know I had symptoms. I was so busy and didn’t always have time to eat. I thought my leg hurt because of shin splints. I overslept a few times and my parking space was pretty far from my dorm, so I’d run down the stairs cause there’s no elevator in my dorm. I couldn’t be late for class. I just couldn’t. I had to make the Dean’s List and I did. I made the Dean’s List. Didn’t I, Mom?” I knew I was rambling, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was trying to make sense of the senseless. I needed an answer to why this was happening.

I looked at both of them, hoping one could explain this to me, but neither could offer up an answer. The only thing I heard over my sobs was the doctor bombarding my mom with information about tests that would need to be performed.

“What’s the treatment for this?” Mom asked.

“Well, I’m not an oncologist, but usually surgery, chemo, and sometimes radiation.”

“What kind of surgery?”

“If the cancer is localized, they would try and remove the entire tumor. If its spread throughout the tissue the best course of treatment would be a below knee amputation.”

I bolted from my seat and dashed out the door as fast as I could. My limp had become pretty pronounced since Thanksgiving because of the pain. I had heard enough. I couldn’t handle anymore. I didn’t stop moving until I reached my mom’s car. I stood there facing the car, my hand poised on the door handle. I heard the lock click, I swung the door open, and got inside, slamming it shut. I heard the driver’s side door open and felt a slight movement as she slid into the seat.

“Sweetheart…”

“Don’t. I can’t talk right now. I just want to go home.”

We drove the entire way home in silence. Occasionally, I caught a glimpse out the corner of my eye of Mom wiping a tear away from her cheek. We pulled into our driveway. I immediately got out of the car and headed to the backyard to get my bike. I got on it and rode away without saying a word as to where I was headed because I didn’t know. I just needed to be alone. I could hear my mom call my name through her choked cries. I don’t know how long I rode around. I stopped when I got tired and found myself at mine and Noah’s spot.