Sinner's Creed (Sinner's Creed #1)(91)
“Judging by the rapid growth, and her health, my best guess would be two weeks before we start to notice a decline in her health.” Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours. That was all the time Saylor had left to live in her current condition. And one of those weeks, seven of those days, 113 of those hours, would be enduring the fading side effects of her last chemo treatment.
There was no positive outcome in this scenario. Either Saylor lived longer and suffered more, or lived less with minimal suffering. And there was no way for us to choose.
The doctor puts his hand on my shoulder, and I meet his eyes. Pain, sorrow, and pity are there. And this time, I don’t mind it because it’s well deserved. “I’m sorry, Dirk.” He stands to leave and I can’t help but cry out to him with one more desperate question.
“Is there anything we can do?” He offers me a sad smile and a one-word answer.
“Pray.”
25
“SHADY, I NEED a minute,” I say, only moments after the doctor left me alone with my thoughts. He nods and walks out. I feel the burn in my eyes and the sob building in my throat. It’s just before escaping when I hear her sweet voice.
“You know, Samson lost his vision too.” I turn to see Saylor on her side, her hand shoved under her cheek, studying me. Apparently, the anesthetic they gave her to help her rest wore off. And it did so just in time to hear the doctor tell me her fate.
“There’s nothing to be scared of, Dirk,” she says, and despite the circumstances, she smiles, bringing light to the darkness that is clouded around me. “If I can’t see, it will heighten my other senses and I’ll be able to appreciate more about you than your good looks.”
I give her the smile she deserves, and listen as she continues to comfort me when it should be the other way around. “If I can’t talk, you’ll get to say all the things I never gave you time to say before.” I laugh and shake my head, completely amazed that she has the ability to bring me joy when all I want to feel is sorrow.
“If I can’t move, then I know you will carry me everywhere we go, and there is no place I would rather be than in your arms.” I feel my smile fade, wondering what her solution is to the other problem. When she doesn’t offer it, I ask.
“And what if you forget me?” This time, there is no smile on my face. There is no joy in my heart and there is nothing she could say to convince me that this loss has a positive outcome.
“Then you will find a way to make me fall in love with you all over again.” And just like that, I’m convinced.
—
I’m signing my discharge papers from the hospital, but leaving is the last thing I plan to do. As long as Saylor is here, I will be too. Even the minutes I’m away from her to piss, or shower, are crucial minutes I’ve lost and will never get back. With that being said, I’ve cut my showering time down to about two minutes and leave the bathroom door open when I piss.
I’ve only left her side once, and it was to visit the chapel downstairs. I prayed, cried, and begged for a miracle from God, but I asked that it be in Saylor’s favor. If he was a miracle worker, then maybe the tumor would shrink on its own and we could wake up from this bad dream. I didn’t care if getting my hopes up was a bad idea or not. I was convinced that he was gonna pull through.
When I made it back upstairs, Saylor didn’t ask where I’d been, but I suspected she already knew. Maybe it was God telling me that he was listening. Maybe Saylor was stronger than what we thought or maybe the medicine was weaker than they claimed it was. Whatever the reason, in two days’ time, Saylor’s side effects were nonexistent. When Dr. Zi came in to discuss her blood work, even he was amazed at how normal everything was.
Her red blood count was perfect. Her white even more perfect and her strength was back, as was her appetite. When she scarfed down the cheeseburger Rookie brought me for lunch, the doctor and I both watched in amazement. It was as if none of this had ever taken place.
When Dr. Zi asked if she would like to undergo another CT scan to check on the status of growth, she refused. She claimed it didn’t matter one way or another. I guess she had a point.
He then informed her that she would need to come in weekly, and before he could explain why, she cut him off and thanked him for his service and that she would keep in touch, but it would be over the phone. He didn’t argue and I found his decision very wise.
We visited the treatment center, where Saylor dropped off letters for all her fellow chemo patients. It was Tuesday, and Ralph and Hershel, who took treatments five days a week, were there to tell her good-bye in person.
The nurses promised to carry on Saylor’s legacy and celebrate the life of the patients there. Dr. Marks had insisted that all the posters be framed with a gold plaque on the bottom, labeling their name, date of birth, and date of death. This seemed to please her and I felt proud knowing that this woman, my woman, had made a difference.
Before we left, she stood in the middle of the floor while everyone watched her close her eyes, extend her arms, inhale, and smile. And unbeknownst to her, I captured the moment.
We stopped at Dairy Queen, where we both got the Peanut Buster Parfaits and Saylor ate every bit of hers.
“I see you have your appetite back,” I say, looking questioningly at her. Was it possible? I thought if you didn’t eat, your stomach shrunk. I guess in Saylor’s case, it didn’t.