#her first chemo appointment is Friday | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kazoo5480 · 3 years

Link

Emma wakes with Killian’s alarm, she rolls over, and kisses the underside of his jaw, he twitches, still deeply asleep. “Babe, wake up” she says smiling kissing up his neck. He groans, and rolls into her. “What time is it?” he asks yawning, 7, I have to go, work. See you for lunch?” He opens his eyes finally and takes her in, all sleep rumpled and gorgeous. Sighing “Aye, I’ll be by around 12” and she kisses him too quickly and stands to put on her clothes. “Love you” and runs out his door, and he lays there a minute, still waking up.

He sees the boxes stacked still in the corner and sighs. He pushes himself up, and into the shower, leaving Liam a note on the table, focusing on getting through the day. He grabs his skateboard and his backpack and heads out towards the gashouse and just focuses on moving and Emma, what he said to her last night and her so willingly accepting his words. It made him grin like an idiot, Liam might be leaving and starting his own adventure, but so was he. He still had his own adventure to seek, and school ahead, the fact that he was lucky enough to have Emma by his side was just the best kind of added bonus.

Emma rushes inside and up to her room showering quickly and throwing her uniform on. Her mom stood on the precipice of her bedroom watching the whirlwind of her daughter as she raced around. “Is Killian alright Sunshine?” and Emma stopped and looked at her mom and nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t expect to need to stay but I took one look at their life being boxed up, and he was so broken up mom. I can see his point of view, this was their first home after leaving their home, losing their mom, and with Liam leaving it is just a lot and he is processing, last night was just a bad night for him is all.” Ruth noticed the ring on her daughters right hand but didn’t say anything, if it were important, she would tell her, she always did.

Emma sat down her head in her hands and her mom sat next to her rubbing over her back, and Emma leaned into her mom. “He is lucky he has you Ems, and he has us, and we will all get through this all together. Maybe you could do something nice, rally the troops to help get his stuff moved, and I’ll even throw in for Pizza. I have Saturday off so I could help in the morning, unpack stuff while the guys do the heavy lofting and all that, see if Liam needs help too” and Emma smiled at her mom “that would be awesome, good idea” and she got up rolling her socks on and threw everything in her work duffle. “I gotta go, but I will see you later Mom” and she kissed her mom as Ruth called out to have a good day behind her.

Ruth sat there, and smiled, she raised really good kids, and though she missed her husband like mad sometimes, but she would wait a little longer to tell them, it was going to change a lot in their lives, and she didn’t want to add more on to their plates. Ruth had been seeing her oncologist weekly for months, treatment options were approaching, and Ruth sighed. Speaking aloud, “I’m not ready to leave them yet honey” she said to no one, and she quickly wiped the tears that began running down her cheeks. What she wasn’t aware of was her son standing in the doorway.

“Planning on going somewhere Ma?” and he looked at her taking in her sadness. Ruth was startled, and she looked at her son and the tears began falling quicker. “Come sit” she patted the spot next to her on Emma’s bed and David sat down, his hurt arm on the opposite side and he wrapped an arm around her waist. “Ma what is it?” he asked gently, and she sighed. “Breast Cancer” and David burst into tears tucking his face into his mother’s neck, hugging her as best as he could, and she held her boy, crying in her arms. “I just told your dad, I am not ready to leave yet, so that’s that” and David laughed a little as he sniffled, his tears still flowing. “How bad is it?” and she sighed, “I have options, chemotherapy, surgery. I chose to start Chemo next week, see how it goes” and David nodded.

“We will do everything mom, just tell me how to keep the family running” and she patted his cheek. “Well, I will need some help around the house, and the therapy makes you really sick, so I have been slowly building an arsenal of stuff I’m going to need, speaking with people in the treatment rooms while they go through it. I wanted to be prepared.” He nodded, “How long have you known?” “Six months. I found a lump and scheduled an appointment right away; we think we caught it early… but I am probably going to lose my hair” she said with a grim smile. David looked at her touching her soft blonde curls, so similar to Emma’s.

“Hair grows back, or we will find you some really amazing wigs, or you can totally rock a bald head” and she laughed and nodded. “The house will be fine, I have our savings, my pension with the hospital, we should be ok” and he nodded once. “Em and I will contribute everything we make to the savings; we should make a plan to tell her, and be ready with a plan, she always wants to see the long picture” and Ruth nodded. “We should make sure you both are on the bank account and the house deed.” David cut her off. “You aren’t going anywhere Ma” and she smiled, “Let’s just have a plan B, it would make me feel better” and he nodded.

“When do we tell Em?” he asked grimly, and she sighed, “I don’t know, but I think we should let Killian and her both get through the weekend, and then we will tell everyone. I have a feeling I am going to need each and every one of my kids to get us through this” and Dave nodded. “I’ll call a Sunday dinner, spread the word through Ruby, we never needed a reason before, so we should do it soon” and Ruth agreed. “I’ll make lasagna, and maybe a cake” and Dave looked at his mom, “It’s going to be ok Mom. I am not going anywhere, and me and Em, we can handle this, helping you. Our friends, they will be here too, you’re just going to have to be ok with people taking over to help you for a while, see how the treatment works, without fighting all of us” and she smiled. “How did I get so lucky to have two great kids?” and he smiled, “Because we have a great mom.” He held his mom a little longer until she got up and said she was going to get ready for work, and he nodded.

He sat there for a while, staring out the window, and begged his dad to leave their mom with them, to not take her too. His heart was shattered, and he couldn’t tell a soul, that was his mom’s personal choice to tell people, and even though it killed him, he wouldn’t tell Emma, they would tell her together. He knew the police academy was the right choice, it would pay good, he could live here with his mom, make sure she was taken care of, Emma had another year of school so she would be around, and lord knows all their friends would band together to keep their matriarch in one piece. He just had to have hope that it would all be ok. He walked to the phone and dialed Red, she picked up immediately. “Hey Rubes, Ma is calling Sunday dinner, everyone, 5 o clock” and she agreed and said she would track everyone down, not even asking why.

He could do this, he could handle this, and Emma was strong like Ruth, they could handle it. As much as he hated to agree, they needed a Plan B, Breast Cancer wasn’t exactly new but when it was your own mother, he decided he should start reading. Since he was off today, he went downstairs, and his mom kissed him goodbye before her shift, and he headed toward the library, asking for every single book, journal, and article they had on Breast Cancer, Astrid the librarian looked at him and nodded with a curious expression but said she would grab what she had, and begin collecting everything over the next few days for him. He thanked her and began reading.

Emma and M were both on the same shift today, and they weren’t crazy busy, so they had some downtime to talk. Emma asked about swapping shifts so that she could be helping Killian Saturday and M agreed of course and said she would help him Sunday too. Zelena came out and tacked up the schedule, waving good morning, and it turns out both Saturday and Sunday Emma had the morning shifts, and would be off by 3, so M didn’t mind at all that she took her Saturday shift if Emma took her following Sunday afternoon shift for her, Emma agreed right away. They chitchatted, and a few cars came in, but by lunch they were starting to get packed. Emma was zipping around on her skates doling out orders for two hours straight, and Killian still hadn’t shown up. Maybe he was busy too she thought.

Ruby called a while later to Rae’s telling M that Ruth was calling for Sunday Dinner, and Dave had called Ruby to round them all up, Emma laughed, eating her grilled cheese as M talked to Ruby, she could have done that, but he was right, Ruby was like a one-woman telephone tree. Emma just assumed her mom wanted Killian to have support since Liam was leaving Friday, and now Elsa too. Emma told M to eat, and she was about to skate out as Killian walked in closer to 1. “Sorry, we were packed, and without Dave it was just me today” and she nodded and kissed him, “Sit, I will be right back” and skated out. Killian parked himself next to M and she was scarfing down her food. “You know no one is going to steal that from you M” and she laughed.

“Sorry, but we just had a huge rush, I am starving, you missed Emma inhaling her food a few minutes ago” and he smiled. “Eat, I am just placing a carry out, and she threw him her pad to write his order on. She got up and skated around the counter throwing it on the counter for the kitchen and tossed her plate into the dish bin. “It will be up in a few” and skated out, her brunette hair blowing out behind her. He shook his head, they worked really hard, and honestly, he was grateful because this obviously contributed to Emma’s outstanding legs. Speaking of which, she skated in and into his arms and he caught her. “Hi” she said, and he kissed her. “Do you want something?” and he told her he had a carry out coming. Emma told him Sunday dinner and he nodded, and “order up” came and Emma skated to grab his bag. “What time are you off again?” she asked, “Looks like later, 530 or so” and she nodded. “See you tonight?” and he nodded, Ill head over after I go home and shower. She nodded, “Love you” and he kissed her hard. “See you tonight” and she smiled as he walked out, food in hand.

David closed the last book and popped a few journals and the legal pad he had taken copious notes on and headed towards the car. He looked at his watch, both Emma and his mom would be home soon, so he wanted to make sure dinner was ready and, on the table, when they both got in. Tonight, was going to be rough on them all, and he decided to swing by the gashouse on his way home. Spotting Killian, he waved with his good hand, “Hey, shouldn’t you be resting?” Jones said to him and he nodded, “I am. I need you to come to our house tonight, I know you are busy, but actually Liam and Elsa should come too for dinner.

Killian nodded, “Ill track Liam down, what’s up? Em said Sunday dinner, but tonight?” And David sighed, “Can you make dinner? Or be there after dinner?” Killian looked nervous, “Dave” and put a hand on his good shoulder, and Dave shook his head. “Tonight?” And Killian nodded, “Emma?” “Is going to need you. But I gotta go” and he booked it out of there leaving a confused and very worried Killian in his wake. Killian lifted the phone dialing the docks, and got Liam to agree to dinner, said he would meet him there at 6, Elsa was working though, and Killian couldn’t tell him why because he honestly didn’t know, and by Emma’s demeanor today he would bet that she didn’t either.

After his shift he rushed home, and showered, changing, and throwing in clothes for good measure in case, and skated towards the Nolan’s like a fire was under his ass. Ruth walked in to find her son tossing a salad, and stir fry going on the stove. “Someone has been busy” she said to her son, as she looked over his notepad, and he snatched it out her hands. “I did some reading, wanted to be prepared” and Ruth hugged her son. “We are telling Emma tonight, I asked Killian and Liam to come over, no one else. But Emma is going to need the support, and with Liam leaving he has a right to know” and Ruth looked sad. “I didn’t want those boys to worry” and Dave nodded, but said “Ems going to need Killian just as much as I need M and you need all of us. We are a family, and I didn’t know if you wanted M to know or not yet, so I haven’t said a word to her, and didn’t ask her to come tonight.” Ruth nodded, “You should call her, I don’t want you keeping my secret from her” and he walked to the phone calling.

Ruth headed into her bedroom and changed into a floral sundress that she loved and combed her long hair back. She needed to be strong for her kids, for herself. She knew David was right, they needed to involve those closest to them first, and she headed into the kitchen to help her son with dinner, since they were expecting more people now. Dave banished her to the porch swing, and she hated being bossed around but she had to let her son come to terms with this, and if bossing people around and making her sit and read was punishment, she would be a glutton for it. Emma’s yellow bus rolled in and she hopped out, M with her, hearing her in the kitchen, and heard her daughters footsteps up the stairs. M and Dave came out to sit with her, and Emma came down a few moments later, her long blonde curls drying and a smile on her face. “Dave said dinner tonight, and Sunday. What’s going on?”

She watched her mom school her features, Emma did the same thing when she was upset or had a secret. Killian rolled up on his skateboard, and Emma was surprised but not, Killian looked nervous as he approached their porch and sat on an empty seat. M moved to an empty chair beside him, and Emma moved to the swing with her mom and Dave. Dave nodded at Ruth, and Emma’s mom clasped her hand and Dave’s good one.

“We asked you here because we have something to tell you, and because you two are the most important people in their lives, it’s going to take us all as a family to get through this, together” Ruth said swallowing. Dave produced a box of tissue from somewhere and handed one to his mom. “Mommy?” Emma said, and Ruth patted Emma’s cheek. “I’m sick Sunshine, Breast Cancer” and looked grim. Emma gasped, her lip trembled, and tears began to pour. She hugged her mom tightly, Killian and M held hands and they watched the three hold each other and cry, Killian now understanding why Dave wouldn’t tell him, it wasn’t his news to share.

Killian knelt in front of the three of them, pulling M with him and he rubbed Emma’s leg in reassurance, but she didn’t take her eyes off her mom. “Whatever you need, I’ll help” Killian said, and Ruth smiled at him. “Tell me everything” Emma said, and Ruth did, telling them all, and Dave chimed in with what he found at the library. M and Killian excused themselves to allow them privacy for a moment, and to go get dinner off the stove, and wrapped each other in a tight hug. “Ruth is tough, she will be ok” M said to Killian and he nodded, “it won’t be like it was with your mom Jones, if they caught it early enough…” and he gripped his friend tighter nodding. “Help me get this on the table” and he followed the small brunette around, lost in his thoughts.

Emma was reeling, “How long did you know” she nailed Dave with a glare. “Just this morning sunshine, don’t be mad at your brother, he caught me in a weak moment right after you left, and I just spilled it” she laughed lightly. “It isn’t funny” Emma said to her mom, and her mom wiped the tear tracks off her daughters cheeks. “I am going to be ok, treatment and maybe a surgery, but like I told your brother, I told dad this morning I wasn’t leaving and that’s that” and Emma nodded wanting to be alone. She got up off the porch, and walked around to the bus, grabbing her spare key, and backed out of the driveway and pulled out, her mom and brother looking confused, but she saw her mom pull Dave down as he tried to stand. “Emma” he yelled, and she took off, heading toward the beach.

Killian heard them call Emma’s name and saw the bus gone. He ran to the front steps, “Where did she go?” and Ruth sighed, “the place she always goes when she needs to be alone” and stood patting his cheek. “Come on, let’s get supper on the table, and start eating, is Liam coming?” and Killian nodded. “I should…” and Ruth looked at him, “Let her be, if she isn’t back before dark, you can go get her, drag her back. I expected this, Emma is like the wind, temperamental and strong, I knew she would need a moment to process it, and I am not going to deny her that and neither are any of you” and he nodded in understanding, wanting to support his love and hold her like she held him. He also knew when Emma took off, she needed it and meant it. Liam showed up a few moments later, and as they ate, Ruth told Liam who immediately knelt at her side crushing her in a hug. It was a very emotional dinner, and his thoughts were entirely on Emma as he sat there with her family processing this monumental news and wishing he could take her pain away and looking at her mother, their surrogate mother and wanting to take her illness away.

Emma threw her suit on, and grabbed her board, stalking down the pier, dropping her stuff in a pile and went into the water. The sun was orange and pink, and purples, the waves calm as she laid on her board looking at the sky, sobbing. She was furious at god, or whoever was out there for doing this, they had already lost their dad, and what if her mom didn’t come out of this. God, the tears rolled down her face and she just let her heart crack wide open, and the tears fall into the ocean as it rolled over her skin. She sat up and paddled, having drifted and the sky was getting darker. She went to the shore, and saw Killian sitting, her stuff in his lap. He handed her the towel as she dropped her board and she crawled into his lap and he held her as she cried softly, soothing her, and smoothing her hair until she had let it all out. “Come on angel, let’s get you home” and he grabbed her stuff and led her to the bus driving her back home.

Ruth was on the porch reading, Dave and M in the house watching TV. Liam had hugged her goodbye after dinner, and promised to stop by before he left, and Killian had finally run off to the beach to drag Emma home. It was full dark now and she saw the bus pull in and park at the end of the driveway. Emma hopped out, her wet bathing suit, her eyes red, and Killian kissed her forehead sending her up the front walk while he moved the bus into the backyard. Emma looked up at her mom and came to sit next to her, Ruth holding her tightly and kissing her hair. “I’m sorry” Emma said quietly, and Ruth shushed her. “I know you sunshine, you needed time.” Emma hugged her mom fiercely, “do you think it will work?” and Ruth nodded against her daughters head, “I really do sunshine, I really do. But I am tired, and I am sure you are too. Let’s head in, ok?”

Emma nodded and helped her mom up, and Dave got up and crushed Emma to his good side, “You can’t just leave in the dark, no more. No surfing after sundown Em” and she looked up at him and nodded. “I can’t be worried about you out there, and her here. I need you to be here Em, I need you.” Emma kissed his cheek and noticed Killian, Dave looked at him “When I am not here, she is your responsibility.” “I’m not a child Dave! Killian has his own life, same as you and M, and Liam. All of us. I can take care of myself, but I said I wouldn’t go after dark anymore” she said petulantly. Dave softened, and looked at Killian and Emma, “Well if you’re at the beach after dark, it’s never alone. If I am not there, he is” and Killian nods “I got it Dave” and he grabbed Emma’s hand and led her up to her room. He could feel the emotion rolling off of Emma in waves, she needed grounding and he walked up to her and grabbed her hand rubbing the ring. “I’m your anchor too Em. Let me be, let me in” and she nodded, and he hugged her tightly.

Emma went to the shower and rinsed off. She didn’t bother with clothes and Killian wasn’t surprised when she crawled into bed and curled herself around him. She needed him, just as he did the night before from her, so he rolled her and slid his boxers off. He quietly made love to Emma, silencing her moans with his mouth, and kissed her tears away until they were spent. “Ems, nightgown” he said into her hair and she grabbed it off the end of her bed and pulled it on, and he pulled on his boxers and tee shirt. Emma laid her head on his chest and fell asleep. Killian laid there a while, the crickets out her window, the wind blowing in and thought back to what Ruth said, when she offered for him to be here. Maybe now he should be, for Ruth, for Emma, for Dave. He would talk to Ruth tomorrow, and drifted off to sleep.

He crept out of Emma’s bed, her still sound asleep and put on his clothes, making a pot of coffee. Ruth came in a few minutes later, not surprised to see him. “Morning” she said, and Killian handed her a cup, and she smiled. “You knew the day of the competition, when you said no matter what that I am allowed here whenever I wanted, night, day, if I chose to be, and that you were ok with it. You meant this, didn’t you Ruth?” and she looked at him quietly, and nodded. “I thought maybe you being here would help me, it would help you avoid renting a place, and I am sick. Dave and Em can’t do it all on their own all the time, but I wanted you to know you could be here as much as you wanted honey. Losing your mom, I thought you might want to be here more for Em and Dave, me too.”

He nodded, “I do, but living with you guys is one thing, I moved closer, so I am around the corner, but into your home might be a little much for now. But I will be here every day, we can schedule your treatments around our work and school schedules, so that one of us is always here with you in the house. I assume that’s what the family dinner Sunday is for? To tell the whole tribe?” and she nods and smiles. “I have an army of kids, I figured Dave was right and letting them help as much as they can or want to.” Killian smiles at her, “It’s going to be ok Ruth, I just have a feeling.”

“Is it the same kind of feeling that you had when you put that ring on my daughter?” She cocks her head to side smiling. He blushes, “It wasn’t a proposal Ruth, god I would never do that without asking you or Dave, both of you. I made a promise to Emma is all, a promise to be here as long as she wants me to be.” Ruth nods, “okay. No proposals until college, alright? And no grandbabies either until she is done with nursing school” and Killian pales, letting out a shaky laugh. “Understood.” Ruth stands, “I am heading to work, so I will see you guys later, let the kids know I’ll be home around 4” and she kissed his hair and headed towards her room.

Killian finished his coffee and went to wake Emma, knowing she had to work but Dave headed him off at the steps. “Morning” Killian said, and Dave eyed him. “Sleeping over again Jones?” He nodded, I could lie and say it won’t be a regular thing, but your mom asked me to be here more, for Em, for you, for her. So, is that going to be a problem?” Dave looked at him and shook his head. “Just make sure you have clothes on, alright?” and Killian laughed and nodded. “I am heading to work, was going to wake Emma up before I head home” and Dave nodded. “See you later roomie” Killian taunted and laughed while Dave glared at him. “Still my sister man” and Killian ignored him still laughing.

He ran his fingers up Emma’s spine, her curls dried in a wild blonde tangle, and she looked so peaceful. “Em” he said kissing her cheek, and she stirred. “Hmmmm” “I’ve got to get to work, I’ll see you later love” and she peeked her eyes open and puckered her lips, and he kissed her soundly. “love you” she said sleepily, and he agreed. “Bye” and he grabbed his backpack heading home. Liam and Elsa were drinking coffee when he walked in, and Liam greeted him, Elsa coming to hug him.

“How are you, are the Nolan’s ok?” and he nodded. “As well as can be expected” he said leaning against the counter. “I am glad she told me” Liam said quietly. “I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if we left and got a call, I wish I could stay to help her, return the kindness she has shown us since the day she met us” he said looking down at his hands. Killian came and clapped his hands on his brothers shoulders and kissed his head. “I’ll be doing that; you just focus on staying in one piece for us. But I have to get to work, dinner tonight, packing?” And Liam nodded. I’ll be home around 4, so I’ll just be boxing here, maybe I can help you take a few things to your new place, you have the keys, right?” and Killian nodded. “Alright, I will see you later. Bye Elsa” and he went to shower quickly and head off to work.

@captainswanouat @captainswoon @captain-swan-coffee @ao3feed-cs @kmomof4 @onceuponadaily @itsfabianadocarmo @lieutenantswan @kymbersmith-90 @killiansprincss @mrs-emma-swan-jones @hollyethecurious

@stahlop @hookedonkillianforlife87 @holdingoutforapiratehero

@jrob64 @teamhook @purplehawkcaptain @sals86 @killiancomeback2me @killiansprincss @karlyfr13s @myfearless-love @resident-of-storybrooke

@thesschesthair @the-captains-ayebrows @jonesfandomfanatic @laschatzi @tiganasummertree @donteattheappleshook @purplehawkcaptain

#emma swan #once upon a time #killian jones #ouat au

4 notes · View notes

theroyalmile · 3 years

Text

No Returns, No Exchanges

Disclaimer: I have debated for quite a while whether or not I should post this blog. Social media is such a curated space for joy and happiness, it can feel oppressive at times. There is so much life-changing positivity, from engagements to new jobs; and don’t get me wrong, that happiness is great to see. But on the other hand, all of that positivity makes me feel like sharing any kind of negative information is attention-seeking and an immense overshare. So let’s ask ourselves why I feel that way. Why is happiness celebrated while the sad, sometimes harsh realities of life are thought to be oversharing? More specifically, why do we feel like life-changing news can only be shared when it doesn’t make other people uncomfortable? Our expressions of pain should not be regulated by the comfort levels of the people who surround us. There comes a time when not sharing something begins to feel like hiding something, and hiding something turns to shame. That is a feeling that I refuse to welcome into my life right now. So here we go.

It has been a while since I posted anything… a really long while. It has been rare, these past few years, that I have even felt I had anything much to say let alone write anything, mostly because my life has been fairly normal, fairly unextraordinary, and I am rather blessed to be saying that during such a difficult time for so many. The few moments where I have felt like I had something to say have been fleeting, and after a good 2am word vomit on paper, I have filed these musings under “not to be seen by the light of day” which is probably for the best.

Sometimes in the past I would find myself wishing I had something interesting going on in my life, something worthy of commentary… I don’t know, I was thinking like a cool hobby, an interesting skill, a kick-ass career, or a run in with Tom Hardy like I’d always dreamed of… something.

Well, to whoever is in charge, this is not what I meant, and I would like to request a refund.

Because as its final parting kick in the ass 2020 decided to gift me with breast cancer. This isn’t a bad punch line, it’s just the truth.Let me give you a second to process that one. I certainly needed a few.

The thing is, a little itty bitty 3-centimeter tumor- that’s not something I can give back, as much as I might want to. It’s not a too-large sweater you can return with a gift receipt, and it’s not a bad haircut you can complain about and get your money back (though it certainly will include one in a week or so!)

A lot of you already know this story and frankly it’s not one I can tell with much finesse or humor, so I will keep it brief. It was a dark and stormy 6pm when I found a lump in my breast in the shower back in November. My initial thought was “you’re a crazy lady and a hypochondriac, let’s give it a few weeks since this is probably nothing.” A few weeks, when my imaginary lump seemed to not actually be imaginary, I figured okay, it’s time to see my doctor, it’s probably nothing but we need to make sure. I was in fact so unconcerned about it that I didn’t even see my regular doctor. I figured I just needed a medical professional to feel me up and let me know what to do next. I didn’t even bother mentioning it to my parents. (For context of my laissez-faire, when I was 14 I found a lump in my breast that turned out, after little fanfare, to be a cyst which was unceremoniously drained on a cold metal table by a male doctor in a somewhat traumatizing but ultimately benign event. That’s a longer story for later).

Cue a physical exam, confirming I was not crazy and there was a lump, but it was probably nothing; an utltrasound, confirming the lump was a shape that they did not like, but it was probably nothing; and an ultrasound guided biopsy, in which the probably nothing was sampled. The week between Christmas and New Year’s was spent impatiently waiting for the news, increasingly feeling that my probably nothing was maybe, actually something.

On December 28 around lunch time I received a phone call in the middle of the work day from the radiologist, who while very nice, was someone I had only met once while she shot a needle in and out of my boob. She asked me how I was doing and then told me my test results were in. “I’m sorry to say it’s not good news,” she said.

And believe it or fucking not my immediate thought was “It’s not good news… it’s great news!” My brain supplied this as if on autopilot like some kind of 90s game show host, knowing fully well that I would not be so lucky because we are not living in a Brooklyn 99 episode. It’s weird where your brain goes under duress.

It was one of the most uncomfortable phone calls I have ever had, wherein I found myself trying to reassure a complete stranger that I was okay and I’m pretty sure I even said, “it is what it is.” I was told a breast surgeon and oncologist from my provider network would be in contact and the call ended. Ultimately, I was diagnosed with Stage 1B Triple Negative Invasive Ductal and Lobular Carcinoma. No returns, no exchanges.

I am two months into my diagnosis, and 1/8 of my way through chemotherapy, the first part of a three series treatment (to be followed by surgery and then likely radiation.) This Friday, after my second chemotherapy treatment, I will begin to lose my hair. Anyone who knows me at all knows that the hair loss will be a pill likely far harder for me to swallow than the chemo itself. And while the look may have worked for Demi Moore in GI Jane, I do not have her bone structure, nor her body. I anticipate I will look more like the yellow peanut M&M, which while obviously the best M&M of the bunch, I think we can all agree is not a cute look for me.

I do not say this to be melodramatic, I just say this because I am cynical and pragmatic by nature: I am not particularly surprised that I have cancer. And this is for several reasons, some of which probably deserve a longer blog later. To put it simply, I have been surrounded by cancer, both by choice and by cruel fate and happenstance, my entire life.

Cruel Fate and Happenstance: Having several relatives who have gone through cancer, and a mother with a BRCA 1 genetic mutation (which I had a 50% chance of inheriting, and in fact did) I always figured it would eventually happen to me. The odds this condition dealt me? “About 13% of women in the general population will develop breast cancer sometime during their lives. By contrast, 55%–72% of women who inherit a harmful BRCA1 variant… will develop breast cancer by 70–80 years of age.” That 55-72% is the kind of percentage you want winning the lottery, but the lottery this most certainly is not, and that much I understood. So, I always figured something like this would probably happen. Did I think I would be 28? No. But I figure that just makes me an overachiever.

Choice: I volunteered at a cancer support non-profit from the time I was 12 to the time I was 22, and I wrote my college senior thesis in anthropology on women with ovarian cancer, the cancer that killed my aunt Lizzy when I was 4 years old. I have likely read more books on cancer than your average newly diagnosed person, which I find to be both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, I know some of what’s coming. On the other hand, I know some of what’s coming. Of course I don’t think any of these things gave me cancer but you might say I have been training for this my whole life. I think this joke is far funnier than pretty much everyone I say it to except my immediate family, because the Tenney/Koss folk are very big on gallows humor, in which case this is hilarious. Comedy is our family coping mechanism, and I am guilty of occasionally forgetting not everyone is wired like that.

So where are we right now? Taking it day by day. Do I frequently find myself wallowing in self-pity these days? Sure. But all the same I feel truly lucky. This is a feeling I am trying to hold on to, because I think the other options might be truly unbearable. Why? Well, I found this tumor. I’m 28-years-old, which means I am hardly old enough for a regular mammogram and MRI. My last yearly physical was a TeleHealth appointment (hence no actual physical) and I will be honest, I never made a habit of regularly checking myself like I should have. But this tumor just presented itself casually during a shower. Breast cancer, when caught early, is highly treatable and curable, and I am fairly confident, knock on wood, that is where this particular nightmare is headed. The fact that it was caught early: pure luck.

Another reason I feel lucky is for the most part, I feel like I actually have the stability to handle the oncoming struggle. I have a large and wonderful support system, an incredible and supportive partner, a savings account with actual savings in it, and a job where I am cared about as a human. If this had happened to me three years ago, almost none of these things would be true. There will never be a good time to have cancer, but some times are apparently better than others. Of course, the ongoing pandemic means I can’t have people go with me to chemo, or my wig fitting, or my surgery consultations, and alone a lot of this seems much more daunting and difficult than it might otherwise have been, but I am trying to make a habit of counting my blessings, and despite this terrible thing I’ve been given, my blessings are many.

There isn’t a “right way” to have cancer, but I think there might be a “right way” for me. I am a private person and I find sharing some of these details difficult and more than a little uncomfortable, but I am also intimately familiar with the healing nature of writing and comedy, so I am going to give it a shot.

And now that I think of it… the peanut M&M is going to make a really great Halloween costume.

#cancer #breast cancer #personal #newly diagnosed

8 notes · View notes

ahnsael · 3 years

Text

Lat night at work was rough.

I was down a security guard (on drop night, when we empty the cash from the slot machines), the only other employee was a new hire, and for the first time that I can remember we had double-digit crowds through the process (for our place, at 3:30-5am, that’s a lot). And it didn’t help that the people kept jumping around to different machines that we had already opened for the drop team to empty, closing them up themselves (they’re regular enough gamblers that they know which machines they can close without a key), and playing them without us knowing. At least one machine’s count will be off because they played it after the meters had been read and we didn’t know it until it was too late.

On top of having to be the security guard guarding the cart, I was also a cashier, the floor manager, and the bartender (but since I was guarding the cart that the money is placed on, the bar essentially closed when the drop process started -- I had to tell everyone that asked for a drink that it was just not possible under the circumstances).

Next week, my schedule (as well as the schedule of the other graveyard manager) changes, so they will be bartending on drop nights and I can be free to handle the drop, and also so that I will be there Thursday night/Friday morning to do payroll.

But I told the new hire that she did an amazing job -- because she really did. She doesn’t know enough to handle the floor on her own right now, but I was close enough, when she had issues, to shout direction to her while I guarded the money. At the end, I told her that Graveyard just finds a way to make things work, and that she DEFINITELY did her part in that. I’m proud of her, and wanted to make sure she knew that (especially since when she came in, she broke down crying in the office due to a nasty custody battle involving her kids, and the swing shift manager called me in to hear her out so I knew what kind of day she had, but she was able to put it aside for the night and do some fantastic work under great personal stress).

This one is a keeper as an employee if she can hang like she did last night. And the custody battle involves the baby-daddy not dropping the kids off at the court-appointed time (two weeks with dad, two weeks with mom, rinse and repeat), and she thinks he’s trying to keep her from her kids. It’s a sad situation.

It made me think of my mom’s divorce with bio-dad. But in that case, they just asked each of us kids who they wanted to live with, and then told the judge our decision, and that’s how it was. I saw my bio-dad once or twice a month by being put on an airport shuttle from LAX to Santa Barbara for a while, until I was about 12 years old (about five or six years after the divorce) and he seemed to lose interest in seeing me. Because my mom thought it was important for me to still have a relationship with him (long-time followers know what a disaster that turned out to be for me -- if you didn’t follow me years ago when I told that story and are curious send me an ask and I’ll respond privately).

But her situation is different. And I feel for her. And she was an absolute trooper to work last night/this morning after what she went through yesterday.

Oh, and our three-day/week bartender has cancer, and starts chemo next month. So I don’t know whether he’ll be at work or not (I am not familiar with chemotherapy’s effects other than hair loss, and he says it will be five days/week for eight-nine weeks, so we may be down someone else soon -- which is okay; as I said, Graveyard finds ways to make things work -- but I’m worried about the guy, and obviously more worried about his health than I am about being short-handed). He told me he was going to be having radiation treatments, but didn’t say whether or not he’d be gone. Maybe someone with more knowledge can enlighten me on the odds, since I’ve never dealt with this on a personal level before (with my bio-dad, I wouldn’t consider it personal -- and he refused chemo because he figured that if he prayed hard enough, God would miracle him better).

I think I’ve told this story before (I used to call it a “joke,” but the more I think of my bio-dad putting it into action (even though he’s the one who told me this “joke” in the first place), but maybe it bears repeating:

A man is in a flood zone, and the water is rising. He resorts to climbing onto his roof to get out of the rushing water.

A rescue boat comes by, and the people in the boat urge the man to get in. “We can get you to land and to safety, just get in the boat.”

And the man says, “No, go help someone else. I have faith that God will save me.”

The boat pilot argues for a short time, but figures it’s a losing battle, and moves on to save other people while there’s still time.

About a half an hour later, the man is on top of his roof, and the water is at his ankles. The boat comes back. “The water’s rising, and you need to get into this boat so we can get you to safety!”

And again the man says, “Go help other people. I’ll be okay. God will save me.” The boat pilot doesn’t put much into his argument this time -- he knows there are people who still need to be saved who will be at risk if he spends too much time on this stubborn person.

Another 20 minutes goes by, and everyone else has been rescued. And the boat returns to the man’s house. The water is almost up to his knees, and he is struggling to keep his footing. “For the last time, man, get in this boat! We can save you, but if you refuse us this time, the water will be too rough for us to come back again to try to get you.”

“No, get yourselves to safety. God will save me.”

So, needless to say, the waters continue to rise and the man gets swept away in the floodwaters and drowns. After he dies, he goes to St. Peter’s Gate, and requests an audience with God. St. Peter says “This is very irregular, but after the story you just told me, I will see what I can do.”

St. Peter consults with God and God grants the man an audience. The man says to God, “God, I was a faithful man. I was SO sure that you were going to save me, and that I didn’t need the help of man. Why did you forsake me?”

God sighed, and looked at the guy, and said, “Man I sent that boat for you THREE TIMES. Don’t blame me that you were too stupid to get in.”

#work things #dad #family things #religion #my dad refused help #and honestly my reaction to being told he died was 'meh -- okay'#granted current stepdad told me in a very nonchalant way that bio-dad was dead #so maybe that entered into it #but I cried no tears even as it hit home #because he had already pretended to try to reconnect #then spent the whole time talking about the stepson with whom he replaced me #and even after that attempted reconnection #he wouldn't reply to phone calls or emails or texts or facebook messages #and my older sis #(the ONE kid who chose him over my mom when we were asked who we would rather be with after the divorce)#(at which time I was maybe six years old)#told me that he wanted any conversations we had to be public on Facebook #like he wanted to show people that he was buying his way into Heaven by reuniting with his estranged son #but he would ONLY reconnect with me if other people could see it #so I wrote him off #just like I had many years before when he chose to show no interest in my life #and just like decades later when he made a fake attempt at reconciliation #so screw him #I hope St. Peter told him 'you had your chance and you blew it'#which is mean to say #but that man caused me almost as much pain as Evil Stepdad Number 1 #emotionally speaking #(Evil Stepdad Number 1 wins as far as physical pain)#sorry for the tag marathon #but...this hiit me as I wrote it

4 notes · View notes

finsterhund · 3 years

Note

How's your dog going?

She's taking to the first four weeks of chemo very well. Her lymph nodes are no longer swollen and the vet says she almost presents entirely healthy. Has to really get in there to tell there's swelling. So we know it's the t cell and not the b cell or whatever as that kind of lymphoma reacts better to chemo.

Friday's vet appointment was very very stressful for her but she's happy and relaxed now. I know human food isn't healthy for dogs but as she's terminal in the end giving her a couple french fries isn't going to do any real harm if it's to cheer her up and make her feel safe. She wasn't eating her treats when she came back home on Friday but the french fries were another story.

Last night she chose to sleep entirely in my bed with me (she usually gets up every five hours or so to move to either her bed or the floor)

It's almost time for our morning walk too. Writing this out is how I'm padding the time because I try to go out starting at as close to 12PM as possible.

Concerned at how frequently she's licking the place they shaved to put the IV in. The specialist who started the chemo used her back leg instead and she didn't lick there as much. If you read my post on Friday you'll know I was a little bit pissed at how they handled her care that day.

#text post #update #anon

1 note · View note

nisaadventures · 3 years

Text

Can’t Control Chaos

Sometimes, when life has thrown SO MUCH at you, when you feel battered and broken... sometimes all that is left are hope, love, and determination... or at least that is all I have left.

I don’t want to start the year off on a “bad note,” but this holiday season has been cruel... there’s a C word for you... Yes, of course there were good moments and I have so much to be thankful for... but the season has been cruel none the less.

I honestly have been avoiding really processing what is happening... denial of course... fear of jinxing it, hope, luck, a miracle... whatever you’d like to call it.

I think I also have just been tired... too tired to really answer when someone asks, “How are you?” Because really? I’m not so okay... I haven’t been for a long time...

***So some background***

In early 2020, my godmother, Josie (Mama Jo), had started complaining of groin pain. I advised her to consult her doctor to get it checked out. Based on what she told me and my previous knowledge in women’s health, I thought it might be an ovarian cyst. These are quite common and can cause discomfort similar to what she described. Her doctor’s first diagnosis was possible muscle strain... prescribed her some medication, rest, and sent her home...

The pain persisted and worsened over the coming weeks, so I told her to advocate for herself and have her doctor investigate further... The issues with the American healthcare system.... But lets not get into that right now...

By this time, March 2020, the COVID pandemic was hitting California and we were forced into shelter in place.

Her doctor finally ordered some tests and found an extremely large mass, about 20cm in diameter... She was immediately scheduled for surgery. You can kind of see where this is going... In surgery they removed the mass with some difficulty and we were informed...

... the big C... not COVID... Cancer...

No one could be with her in the hospital after her surgery, we couldn’t visit when she had to stay extra days to recover... but we could speak to her and see her posting on facebook. She was doing okay and surgery was “successful.”

Ovarian cancer is in the top 5 cancer deaths among women and accounts for more deaths than any other female reproductive cancer... Now the reason for this is usually because there are little to no symptoms and when it is diagnosed, it is usually a late stage... In a way, we were blessed Mama Jo was experiencing pain. Her cancer was discovered at stage IIA, meaning she had some spread within her reproductive system, but none to neighboring abdominal organs or lymph nodes... good?

So the next step was chemo. Another C... interesting...

First infusion & cutting Mama Jo’s hair.

She was scheduled for a total of 6 rounds of chemo. Each round consisted of 1 appointment every Friday, for 3 weeks. 1 week of 2 drug infusions, and 2 weeks of a single. In total, 18 weeks. She handled it like a champ. Luckily she didn’t experience the extreme and awful symptoms, until her last round...

She started to feel the effects more and more as the chemo had gradually started to break her down. Finally, after about her 16th infusion, the start of the final round, her electrolytes were imbalanced, she needed a blood transfusion for low hemoglobin, and she was extremely pale, clammy, and easily fatigued.

Some STATS: currently the difference in mortality rate for ovarian cancer from 3 rounds (9 weeks) of chemo to the full 6 rounds is roughly 2-5%... Doesn’t seem like much when you consider the damage and side effects those 9 extra weeks cause... but that extra percentage is still a better chance... If patients experience more side effects after the first weeks, the doctor will stop treatment after 3 rounds...

Mama Jo made it through 5 complete rounds of chemo. Her initial scans were clear and we just needed to wait a few months for more follow-up scans.

She did it.

And in the best fashion, with THE BEST attitude. She has always been a positive person. You can always count on her to cheer for you, encourage you, and love you deeply. If anyone could make it through the big C, it was her... and she did!

So here we are... in the middle of another wave of this COVID-19 pandemic, living in the San Joaquin Valley, where hospitals are overflowing, COVID cases have rapidly increased, and COVID related deaths...

Friday, December 18th, Mama Jo, got tested for COVID-19. She had been symptomatic for a few days prior and scheduled a test to confirm. Her symptoms were very typical to COVID: upset stomach, diarrhea, cough, shortness of breath, body aches, etc. Mama Jo also has a long history of terrible asthma that is routinely exacerbated by changes in season, allergens, poor valley air quality, and illness...

She was positive... COVID-19... another C.

She was at home and on a regimen of several asthma medications, steroids, and regular breathing treatments to decrease her symptoms. Her oncologist saw her diagnosis of COVID and suggested she go to the ER if she continued to have symptoms... which she did... and finally, via ambulance, went to the hospital.

And that is where she has been... through Christmas and New years... She has run through all the treatments, transferred facilities, undergone all the tests, a slew of infections secondary to COVID... and here we are.

Part of me feels angry... part of me feels numb.... I move through the day knowing that I have to...There is nothing I can do, but trust that she is in good hands...

Hello 2021.

I’ve been tested. SHE has been relentlessly tested... we’ve all been tested in some way, shape, or form... I’m so done... and in those dark moments, sometimes all I want to do is give up... throw my hands in the air and say “FINE! You win!”

... and then... after my inner turmoil has had its opportunity to cry it out... after the water has settled... things become more clear... my inner voice... that voice deep... DEEP inside that speaks to you, keeps you going, motivates you, and sometimes kicks your ass in gear... well... she says I will be okay...

I have been through some great awfuls... but life will continue on and I will be OKAY because if there is anything I’ve learned from my Mama, from my Mama Jo, from everyone I’ve ever looked up to and been inspired by... its that I CAN do anything and I am so much stronger than I ever fathomed.

Can... another C.

So this is me... just leveling with you all. So much has been taken... but if there is anything I’m going to hold onto... its my hope for the best, my love for all those I care about, and my determination to continue... another C...

She’s the real champ... “C” what I mean? ;)

Christmas 2018?

Easter 2019?

Thanksgiving 2019

Christmas 2019

Summer 2020

Mama Jo,

I know you can’t read this just yet, but I love you so much!

Love,

Your baby girl

Nisa

3 notes · View notes

sprnklersplashes · 4 years

Text

heart of stone (10/?)

AO3

Friday finally rolls around again, and Janis is packing up her stuff again and getting ready to go home. Her mom is down the hall with some of the other kid’s moms, probably swapping stories about treatments and comparing the nurses.

As Janis has bonded with the kids on the ward, the parents have done the same; meeting for coffee in the hospital cafeteria or gathering in someone’s empty room to chat. Sometimes it’s about cancer, of course, but their topics have been getting more and more diverse lately. Just days ago Janis walked in on her mom discussing gardening with none other than Maddie’s mom and she’s overheard them talking about the Kardashians over breakfast. And of course, their moms talk about what they were like as little kids, and it’s painfully embarrassing. Janis has joked to Melissa more than once that she’s tempted to request painkillers so she can knock herself out. They also started jokingly referring to themselves as the “cancer moms”, and last night her mom showed Janis the group chat they’d created with the same name. Janis’ jaw had nearly hit the floor and all she said was that she hoped they weren’t planning on getting t-shirts.

Still, she thinks with a smile, at least her mom is making friends here.

She rolls up her sweater and shoves it into her bag, sure it’s wrinkled but it’s going straight into the laundry once she gets in. On Melissa’s advice, she’s started doing most of her laundry at home where she can control when and how it happens (and by that she means she can tell her mom how to do it). Bless the laundry service here, because they really do try, but more often than not her sweaters come back stiff and there’s nothing like pulling her clothes straight out of the dryer at home.

With her clothes in the bag, she gets up from where she was kneeling on the floor, shakes out her stiff legs, and moves over to the bathroom. Her make-up bag sits on the sink, the mascara and tube of lipstick strewn across the shelf along with her hairbrush. Her face is bare today, make-up having slipped her mind again between treatments and appointments and hospital life. She checks it in the mirror, sighing deeply at what she sees. Cady swears up and down she looks the same as she always did whenever they Facetime and her mom hasn’t made any comments, but she can tell there’s a difference now. Those dark shadows have taken up permanent residence under her eyes and sometimes it’s hard for her to tell what’s her face and what’s her sheets. There’s so many changes that no-one seems to notice but her.

Maybe she’s looking too hard, or maybe she just knows what to look for.

With an idea sparking in her mind, she reaches over and grabs the make-up bag. She checks her watch, finding that they still have plenty of time before she’s discharged. And sure she could spend that time continuing to pack, but this is more fun. It’s still productive, just not in the way people would think it. And fine, maybe she just needs it right now. So she unscrews the lid of the foundation and gets to work before she can talk herself out of it.

At least her hands aren’t shaking today. She learned the hard way that no matter how hard you believe you can apply your make-up while your hands are shaking, you can’t.

Even with her steady hands though, she’s not doing much. Kind of because she’s on a schedule and kind of because she’s not seeing anyone important. It’s not like when Cady and Damian are coming over and she spends an hour building the best version of herself for them. She just wants to look like a human, rather than this half-zombie that’s taken her place in the mirror. So she hides the darkness behind foundation and fills out her cheeks, paints over her lips with purple, rings her eyes in black and makes her eyelashes bigger.

She can’t quite pin down the feeling she’s having as she goes along. What she does know that the more she puts on, the better she feels when she looks in the mirror. Yes, she should know better by that, and she does. Kind of. This isn’t the old kind of preteen insecurity. She’s had enough of Cady’s speeches about natural beauty to chase all those fears away. But she’d wager Cady has never been spooked by what she saw in the mirror before, so what would she know?

“Oh my God,” she mutters to herself. She drops the mascara tube back in the bag and zips it shut. “Can you stop being so dramatic?” She looks up at the mirror again, giving herself a smile. There she is. Good old, normal Janis. She lets out a breath and takes the tie out of her hair, letting it fall past one shoulder. She must have forgotten about brushing it as well.

“Easily fixed.”

She runs the brush through her hair, humming under her breath and trying to think of what else she should be packing, checking off the little boxes in her brain and the excitement at going home daring to creep in.

Until she pulls the brush away and feels a lot more come with it.

No she thinks.

She keeps her eyes locked on her reflection’s, willing herself not to look at it. If she doesn’t look, it doesn’t exist. She doesn’t normally like uncertainty, but she’ll gladly take it here if the reality is this. Her hand is frozen in place, her fingers still curled around the brush’s handle. Her other hand grabs the sink. The cold of the metal creeps through her skin and into her veins, travelling through her just like her chemo does.

The stupid freaking chemo. Her IV stands behind her, mocking her even if she’s not using it. If this is what she thinks it is, this is the reason why.

“Okay,” she whispers. She shakes out her hands and wriggles her toes to try to get any feeling back into them. “Okay, come on.” She tries to imagine her friends next to her, giving her advice, but their words fade away before they reach her. Of course they do. She can’t know what they’d say to her about this. She can guess, but she can’t know. Besides, she can barely think when she’s like this, when her brain is shutting down and running away from her she’s being left to fend for herself.

It’s the ticking behind her, the loudest sound in the room, that gets her to calm down. Even when she wants to stop, the world moves on, and her mom is coming back in here any second. Meaning she needs to be herself when she does. So she looks and presses her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming.

Her hair is in the brush. Not a few strands of it, a whole clump of black and blonde hands from her brush. Her hand goes to the spot it had been, amazed that there’s anything left. When her fingers brush against her scalp, a whimper escapes her mouth before she can think to stop it.

Her hair fell out.

Her hair is falling out.

How does she react to this? Has anyone told her how to react? No, of course not, because she hasn’t asked. Denial and blind hope can run deep. If she doesn’t think about it, it doesn’t happen. Only now it has happened, is happening, and she’s heading into it blind whether she wants to or not.

Denial seems to be the most attractive option, so she jumps to it. She rips the clump off the brush, shuddering as it slides between her fingers, and she drops it into the toilet, letting it be flushed down the drain and out to sea. Far out of sight and hopefully, far out of mind.

She looks at the brush for a moment, recoiling away from it like it’s a snake. What she wants to do it throw it away too, just like the clump, and her mom is the only reason she doesn’t. Instead she throws it into her bag, burying it down at the bottom.

“Okay.” She lets out a breath and kneels back on her heels, her hands held out as if she’s reaching for something. Like she can just grab an answer out of thin air. “Come on, you’re smarter than that,” she whispers. There isn’t an answer here, not to this. This happens to cancer patients, all the time. What made her think herself so special she was above it? It’s already happened to some people, like Maddie for example, who runs around in beanies all day. She knew it would happen on that first day in the doctor’s office with the kids on the poster.

She’s going to become a kid on a poster.

She bawks at the idea and her hand instinctively flies to her head. Her fingers cautiously move over the black waves, barely touching anything lest she take any more out.

Breathe she tells herself. In for eight, out for eight. She’s been through this, on both sides of it, and yet this is worse. Like every time before this was a jogging and this is running a marathon. Even as she stumbles towards the finish line, her vision clearing and her brain calming itself enough to think, the tightness in her chest is still there. She wraps one clammy, cold hand around her bedpost and pulls herself up, her other hand shoved into her pocket, and keeps on counting her breaths. When she glances up, she catches sight of herself in the mirror and it’s with relief that she sees how normal she looks. For her, the entire world has shattered around her, but for everyone else, it’s just another day.

She’s so good at faking it that her mom doesn’t notice anything wrong for the next hour as they get ready to go. No one does, not the nurses who do last checks and bid her goodbye for the week, nor the receptionist who checks her and her mom out. Maybe she can fake it long enough until…

She’ll cross that bridge when she comes to it.

“Janis!” Maddie runs across the room towards her, her little beanie tight over her head. Much as Janis tries, and crappy as she feels, it’s almost all she can see on the girl.

“Hey, kid,” she says, clearing her throat. She swallows everything else she’s thinking and holds out her fist for a first pump. “Don’t cause too much trouble while I’m gone, okay?”

“No promises.” She steps closer to her, her chin tilted upwards, and pulls Janis down to her. Excitement gleams in her eyes, but Janis barely notices it; she’s too bust thinking about how few eyelashes she has. That hadn’t even crossed her mind.

Her throat runs dry.

“Hey, I heard that the Make A Wish Foundation came to you,” she whispers.

“Oh, and where did you hear that?”

“From my mom,” she admits sheepishly. “She heard it from your mom.”

“Word sure travels fast in here,” she says flatly.

“Do you know what you’re going to get?” she asks.

“Not yet,” she says. “Haven’t thought about it too much.” She lets Maddie drag her over to the couches and sit her down, the wide eyed look never leaving the kid’s face. “What did you do for yours?”

“Oh, I went to see Frozen on Broadway,” she blurts out, her smile exploding on her little face. “And I got to go backstage and meet the cast. They gave us front row seats as well. It was the best day of my life.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun,” Janis tells her. “My friend Damian, he’s a big musical theatre geek. He really wants to see Frozen.”

“I just really love Frozen,” Maddie says. “And Elsa, obviously.”

“We do love Queen Elsa.” Just then, Janis wonders if she ever used to braid her hair like Elsa. Janis hasn’t, and it hits her that if she wants to, she might have to do it fast.

“Just make sure it’s something you really want,” she advises her. “I stressed so much over it. It ended up being between Frozen and Disneyland.”

“How ever did you manage?” Janis says dryly. She looks up just in time to see her mom waving her over, phone in hand, letting her know her dad is in the parking lot. “I gotta go, kid. See you next week.”

“See you later,” she says. “Oh, by the way, I meant to give you this at movie night, but I forgot.” She reaches into her pocket and hands her a scrap of pink paper folded into a square. Inside, Janis finds the word MaddieThePanda and madisonrichards written in pencils. Embarrassingly, it takes her a second to recognise them, but the first has a drawing of a ghost and the second a doodle of a camera.

“Ah, the socials,” she says. Maddie nods, avoiding her eyes, and Janis pulls her into a light hug before getting up. “I’ll follow you the minute I get home, okay?”

“Awesome!” she squeaks and she scampers off, leaving Janis to join her mom.

“She’s a nice girl,” her mom comments as they ride down the elevator.

“You’re quite pally with her mom,” Janis says. “She’s in the cancer mom squad, right?”

“She is. So what did Maddie give you?”

“Instagram and Snapchat,” she replies, holding the piece of paper between her fingers. Janis’ own Instagram has been fairly barren since this started, despite how much she scrolls through her own feed and watches her friends’ accounts. Even her art account has been empty for a while. Unsurprisingly, she hasn’t felt like posting much. And she’s very much aware of the fact that she might be posting a lot less in the near future.

“Are you okay?” her mom asks.

“Fine.” She readjusts the mask she’s had on all day and falls back on her usual line. “I’m just tired.” The best thing about that line is that technically it’s not a lie.

When she does get home, she sets herself up on the couch, blanket thrown over her and phone in hand. Her dad sits on the chair next to her and a gameshow plays on the TV. This has become some kind of tradition between she and her dad. And Maxie, of course. Despite how much she’s missed her bed, she’s missed her dad more, so she stretches out on the couch with a blanket fresh from the dryer and the two of them catch up. And if (and when) the conversation runs dry, they can shout answers at the TV.

“Alex Kingston,” she says, nodding at the question. British Actors Who Were On Doctor Who. Which really is all of Britain. “Told you that Doctor Who obsession I had in middle school would come in handy.”

“Did you tell me that?” her dad asks. “I cannot remember you telling me that.”

“I did.” Still watching, she opens her phone and taps open Instagram. The little scrap of paper sits on her lap and she types Maddie’s name into the searchbar. She finds her account fairly easily, but she’s in for a shock when she does.

Maddie’s healthy self is on this account. It does look like her, it’s unmistakable, but it still shakes her to see her like that, hanging upside-down from a tree, running across a soccer pitch, dressed up as Elsa at Comic Con. Her suspicion was right; Maddie is blonde. Was.

She checks the date on her last ‘normal’ looking post and finds it was a little over two months. Maddie sitting cross-legged on her trampoline, two of her little school friends on either side. There was a tumour inside her at that moment and no-one even knew. She looks happy, carelessly happy. Blissful, even.

It’s not that she looks like two different people. That was kind of her expectation, but it’s not true. She still looks like herself, and it’s precisely the similarity between them that freaks her out. It’s the way the girl with a long blonde ponytail chasing a soccer ball and the frail little thing who sits on the end her hospital bed are the same person.

Maxie jumps on her lap just as her hand reaches for her own hair. While her dad scolds him and tells him to get off her, she shakes her head, insisting that it’s fine. When she kisses his fluffy little head, it’s a thank you. He licks her face and she takes it as a ‘you’re welcome’.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” Her mom places a grilled cheese on the table next to her and pats her head before heading over to the couch. “Do you need anything else? I can get you a drink if you-”

“I’m fine.” She nods at the end of the couch, where her backpack sits. “There’s water in my bag anyway.” Her mom nods in understanding and settles next to her dad.

“Which team do we want to win?”

“The college students,” Janis answers, taking a bite out of her sandwich. Of all the tastes she misses, her mom’s grilled cheese is up there. At least the chilli flakes she put on it gives it something. “They deserve it.”

“That old bat certainly doesn’t,” her dad grumbles. “She’s been giving her daughter the stink eye since round one.”

“Oh she looks like she would,” her mom jokes. “Hey Jan, did you tell your dad about the Make A Wish people?”

“The Make A Wish people?” her dad echoes, looking over at her. “You didn’t mention that.”

“Well, now you know,” she says casually, tearing her crusts off. Both her parents look to her expectantly, her dad no doubt excited about this. She’d be lying if she weren’t excited herself though. “It’s sort of what it says on the tin. I make a wish and the good people of the Make A Wish Foundation let it come true. Within reason, obviously. I don’t think they can give me a unicorn.”

“They could strap a horn to a little pony’s head,” her dad suggests.

“That’s animal abuse!” she says. “You know how I feel about the animals.”

“But have you thought about what you want?” her mom interrupts. “I mean, there’s no pressure, but any ideas?”

Janis purses her lips and pushes herself into a semi-normal sitting position. She has, although she wouldn’t call it ‘thinking about it’. More like ‘the first thing that came into her head’. But in her defence, it’s a really good one.

“There is one thing,” she says. “One place I’ve sort of always wanted to go but I never thought about asking for it because I knew it would be way too expensive.” Her mouth turns up into a smile before she can stop herself. Her parents eyes are wide as anticipation builds, both their attentions held tightly in her hand. Her next words are less spoken, more of a squeak. “The Kröller-Müller Museum. In the Netherlands.”

“The where now?” her dad asks.

“The Kröller-Müller Museum!” Janis replies, throwing the blanket off her. Just saying it out loud flipped a switch in her and now she’s bouncing on the couch, words tumbling out of her mouth. “It has one of the best collections of Van Gogh paintings! And basically anyone who was anyone in modern art!”

“Oh, there’s the obsession with Van Gogh,” her mom says. “Thought you left that behind in high school.”

“You thought wrong,” Janis tells her. “He’s my man. And also the Netherlands is meant to be like, really beautiful and I really want to go there. But also this art gallery! This art gallery let me tell you about it! It has a whole garden full of sculptures! And it’s not just European art-”

“Okay, Janis,” her mom chuckles. It’s then that Janis realises she actually stood up in her excitement, her phone at the ready, probably to show them everything and explain why exactly they should say yes to this. “If that’s what you want, that’s what we can do.”

“It is?”

“Of course,” her dad says. “It’s your wish. Also I’d love to see the Netherlands. We could make a whole vacation out of it without paying for anything ourselves.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” she squeals, bouncing up and down on the spot. Any and all dizziness she gets from this will be well worth it. “Oh, could I potentially bring Cady and Damian along with me?”

“If the good people at Make A Wish don’t have an issue with it,” her mom says. “Which I don’t think they will.”

“Oh my god yes!” She punches the air before breaking out into a little happy dance, her feet shuffling on the floor and her arms pumping. “I have to go tell Cady about this. Oh my god!”

Her mom barely has time to ask if she wants help before she picks up her bag and runs upstairs, grilled cheese in her hand. She feels as though this smile is permanently plastered on her face as she imagines her showing Cady around the gallery, telling her all about her favourite pieces, the two of them walking through the sculpture garden.

It’s almost enough to make her forget that this is just a cancer treat.

The five seconds it takes Cady to pick up the phone are torturous, her feet banging against her bed as she waits.

“Hey,” Cady greets, looking adorable with her hair falling around her shoulders and a white sweater engulfing her body. “Someone’s happy. You in your room?”

“Yep,” she answers. “My actual room, not my other room.”

“That’s not confusing,” Cady chuckles. “Wait a second.” She picks up the phone and sits against her wall, balancing her phone on her knees. “Okay, is this angle good?”

“All angles with you are good,” she says, turning onto her stomach so her feet and swing in the air. “Okay, so guess what?”

“Um… what?” she replies.

“You have to guess.”

“Okay, fine,” she says. “Um, they let Maxie come into the hospital with you.”

“Ugh, I wish,” she sighs. “But no. Keep guessing.”

“You… found out whether or not the hot medical student is gay so you can set him up with Damian?”

“Sadly, that’s still a question mark. Come on, one more guess.”

“I hate guessing, just tell me,” she says. “You look like you’re bursting to anyway.”

“You’re right, I am” she says. “So… what would you say to an all-expenses paid trip to Europe?”

“I’d say you’re kidding, right?” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” she says proudly. “The Make A Wish Foundation.” Those words make Cady’s mouth fall open in a perfect, precious ‘o’ shape. “Oh yeah baby, they can give us a fancy little European vacation to the Netherlands.”

“Oh my gosh!” Cady says, laughter lining her voice. “Where, when, how, why?”

“The how is Make A Wish,” Janis explains. “The where is the Kröller-Müller Museum in Gelderland.” She definitely didn’t pronounce that properly. “The why is that it’s been my dream vacation since I could form coherent thoughts. And I want my best people with me when I go see it.” Maybe it’s a trick of the camera light, but Janis is sure she can see Cady’s cheeks turn pink.

“You sappy munch,” she tells her.

“Can I take that as ‘you’re in’?” Janis asks.

“You can take it as a ‘frick yes, I’m in’,” she replies between giggles.

“Fabulous. I don’t exactly know when, but that’s okay. We’ll figure it out. I finish in December so maybe we can go for Christmas.”

“Will you be okay to go?” Cady asks.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just… I was doing research about chemotherapy and cancer stuff,” Cady confesses. Her confession turns Janis’ heart to warm, soft mush.

“And why did you do that?” she asks softly.

“Oh… no reason.” They shrug and pull their sleeves over their hands, their face taking on the kind of softness they reserve just for Janis. “Just thought it might come in handy.” Janis blows a little kiss to the camera. Cady catches it, but quickly turns serious. “And it said that the aftermath tends to be pretty rough.”

“Caddy…” She rolls over onto her side, her cheeks turning a pale pink. “You’re sweet, you know that?”

“Of course I know that.”

“But you don’t need to worry about me,” she tells her. “Once this is all over, I’m going to be completely fine.” Her voice catches a little and she swallows past the lump in her throat. “And once I’m good, you and me can jet off to the Netherlands for our romantic getaway.” A lightbulb goes off in her head. “Oh, maybe I can get them to do it on our anniversary. I mean I’ll be completely fine by then, but it would still be romantic.”

“That sounds awesome,” Cady chuckles. “A little Fault In Our Stars, but awesome.”

“Oh my gosh,” Janis realises before bursting into cackling. “How did I not get that?”

“Because you didn’t read every John Green last year book to prep yourself for real people school,” Cady tells her. “I did.”

“Nerd,” she teases. “Anyways, this is me back for the week if you want to come over and give me a week’s worth of Cady cuddles-” As she talks, she makes the mistake of running her hand through her hair. And behind her head, she feels something come off in her hand.

And just like that, a tidal wave crashes in and washes away everything else, all the comfort she’d received from Cady, all that excitement and giddiness. Gone.

“Janis?” Cady asks, a frown creasing her face. “You okay?”

“Um, yeah, fine,” she says quickly. “Uh… I’m actually going to sign off now. I’m pretty tired and I need to get some stuff sorted out. I’ll text you tomorrow okay?”

“Sure.” Cady twirls her necklace around her finger. “Um, feel better soon, okay?”

“Yeah. I will. I’ll see you later, Caddy.”

If Cady was going to say anything else, she doesn’t get the chance. Janis hangs up the call and shoves her phone under her pillow, just in case. She presses her hand to her chest, her heart beating wildly against it.

“Oh God.”

She pushes herself up, only to find more of her hair sitting on her bed. There has to be more than what came off in the hospital, she thinks as she pushes herself into a kneeling position. Twice as much.

How much is left?

She pushes herself off the bed and half-stumbles, half-runs to the mirror. Thankfully, she still looks normal at the front, but not at the back. There’s a patch at the back and if she can see it, anyone can. Anyone meaning her parents. It’s small enough for her to be able to cover it by pulling her hair into a ponytail, but that won’t last forever.

She sinks down on the bed, her nails digging into the covers and her head spinning. She can’t stop this and she won’t be able to hide it for that much longer either. This is her new reality.

As insane as it sounds, she feels like she’s losing a part of herself. Not even in the way most people like her probably think. Her hair is a symbol of the battle she fought with Regina. The half-blonde shows that Regina didn’t win. That she did, that she came out of it as herself, not as a clone of Regina. She can still remember standing in her bathroom cutting most of her hair off. Still remember the thrill she felt when the first hints of black started making their appearance. To lose this feels like she’s losing that victory.

She lays down on her bed and stares up at the ceiling, tears burning in her eyes until tiredness creeps in and she finally falls asleep.

******

Her parents pick up on her mood, even if they don’t know what it’s about, which is the very last thing she wants. She should be trying harder, but she doesn’t have much energy to play pretend. She loves her parents, but right now she wishes they would be assholes and not care about her.

“You feeling okay, Jan?” her mom asks as she comes up behind her.

“Just tired,” she mumbles. Maxie whimpers and rubs his head against her leg, demanding pets. She obliges, partly to make herself feel better. If her dog can’t fix her mood, this truly is the end of her. Her mom nods, not moving from where she stands and watching Janis pretend watch daytime TV.

“Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want something?”

It was a low blow, Janis knew that the second she said it, sort of even before it, and her mom’s wounded face is the price she pays for it. For a split second, Janis thinks (slash hopes) that she’ll tell her off about her attitude, instead she just shrugs.

“No. Just making coffee, you want some?”

“I’m okay.” She pauses for a moment and looks up just as her mom is heading away. “Thanks, though.”

It’s not that she hasn’t thought about telling her parents. Logically, she knows that that’s the best thing she could do. They’re going to find out sooner or later and it’s better that they hear it from her than her just coming downstairs in a few days completely bald. Save their feelings, show them she cares and all that. She knows all that and she’s still keeping it from them. Pride, fear and stupidity is a lethal cocktail and she’s downed at least three since yesterday.

She guesses she dozed off because she blinks and it’s a completely new show. According to her phone, it’s half an hour later. The TV was put on mute at some point and her phone placed on the coffee table. She stretches her limbs out on the couch, her stomach growling, and she guesses it’s time to head to the kitchen and eat her first meal of the day.

“Oh, morning,” her dad teases. She throws him a peace sign and heads over to the cupboard.

“Do we have peanut butter left?” she asks. “I want a PG&J.”

“I got a new one, it’s in the front,” her mom says. “The jelly’s in there too.” She has to stretch to get it, even with her being taller than average. She almost doesn’t notice her mom approaching until it’s too late and all she can do is hope she tied her hair back enough to hide her little patch well enough. “Sweetie why don’t you let me do that?”

“Mom, I’m nearly 18,” she reminds her. She snorts, although it feels empty and more sarcastic than earnest. “I can do this myself.”

“I know,” she says gently. “I just don’t want you to… I’m making something for myself anyway, you just woke up.”

Janis in a deep breath. It’s well intentioned, of course, but it pisses her off.

“It’s okay Mom,” she says. “I’ve got this.” She screws open the peanut butter and spreads more than enough on one slice, just to make her point. Her grip on the knife turns her knuckles white.

“Really, sweetheart.” Her mom puts her hand on her shoulder and even though her touch is as gentle as can be, Janis bites back a scream. “You go sit down; I don’t want you stressing yourself.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake mom!” The knife clatters to the counter and she whips around to face her mother. “I’m not an invalid, I’m not a child, and I can make my own freaking sandwich!”

Her mom looks like she shot her. She may as well have. She backs away from Janis, her mouth opening and closing noiselessly, her eyes torn between anger and concern. When she looks to her dad for help, there’s nothing he can do.

“I’m sorry,” Janis says after what feels like forever. She wraps her arms around herself, her eyes meeting her mom’s. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.” Her tone implies it’s anything but. “It’s all right.”

Janis only shakes her head, her throat too tight to say anything. Her mom takes a careful step towards her, then another. She’s never been handled with this much care before. Not even in the aftermath of Regina, when she was at her lowest, did she feel this breakable.

“You make your sandwich, kid,” her mom says quietly, her hand on her shoulder. Janis flinches away from her touch, mindful of her hair. Her mom takes the hint and she watches as disappointment flickers across her face.

“Sorry,” she whispers again. Her voice is so quiet that it’s as though she didn’t say anything. Maybe she didn’t.

When she looks over at the sandwich on the counter, her once-empty stomach feels too full and a shiver runs down her back.

“I’m not hungry,” she mumbles.

She stumbles into her room and leans on the chair, not even having the energy to close the door fully. Her parents know to give her her space anyway. They’re good like that, always are, and look how she repaid them.

She doesn’t care about being an asshole in school, to the people who deserve it, but she crossed a line here. The worst part is that she can’t really apologise because her parents are giving her the special treatment. Regardless of whether or not she deserves it, she doesn’t want it.

She rakes her hand through her hair, the habit still in her body even if she should know better, and of course another clump of hair comes off in her hand. That’s the second time today, the first being what came off in her hairbrush this morning. She’s being pushed further away from normal with every minute.

She holds it in front of her and looks at it, looks at the black and blonde clump just sitting there. Lifeless. Dull. Curling at the edges and poking out from between her fingers.

And suddenly she’s not upset or self-pitying any more.

She’s pissed.

She’s pissed as hell.

She shoves the door closed and squeezes the hair in her hand. It’s this illness, and that freaking medicine that’s making her feel this way. Making her tired and angry all the time, why her parents are giving her free passes. Making her miss out on her senior year and now taking her hair away from her too. Taking every facet of her life until she’s left with dust, and all against her will. How dare it, she thinks. How dare this disease come in and wreck her life like this. Make her feel so helpless and fragile. Who gave it that right?

She squeezes the clump in her hand as hot tears roll her face and into her open mouth. Her breathing is ragged and uneven; she gasps and chokes on sobs, even more so when another clump falls out.

Then an idea starts to piece together in her mind. It sounds insane, until she realises she was going to have to do it sooner or later. And that it was recommended in one of the leaflets she was given near the beginning. It scares her, but at the same time, it gives her some sort of satisfaction. Like doing it lets her win in some way. She lets the idea of that satisfaction pull her down the hallway, one ear listening out for her parents, and slips into the bathroom. There she finds her dad’s electric razor sitting on a shelf and she slides it into her pocket.

She remembers when she was 12 and her dad found her in this bathroom after cutting most of her hair off. He hid his surprise well. He might not be able to do that this time.

She locks her bedroom door and closes the curtains as well. Victory or no, she wants this done in private. She positions her mirror on the desk, enough to get her entire head in.

She looks at herself for a long moment, razor in her hand. This is the last time she’ll look like this for a long, long time. Her cancer has been hidden from passing eyes until now. Now she’ll just have it written on her forehead in invisible ink. The sad, pitiful eyes and sympathetic sighs won’t just be from her parents or peers now, but from everyone who sees her.

But it’s either this or it falls out on its own. Her fate it, quite literally, in her own hands.

So she takes a deep breath, turns the razor on, and runs it through the middle of her head.

It’s not as easy as people make it look. And by people, she means people on TV and in movies. The razor gets stuck on more than one occasion and it takes two or three tries on some places to get it fully off. Not to mention her hair getting caught in her bra or falling down the front of her shirt. But she powers through it and keeps going until there’s nothing left of it.

There’s nothing left.

Her first thought is that as far as impulse decisions go; this one takes the cake.

Her second thought is “oh my fucking god I’m bald!”. She’s well and truly bald. The realisation slams into her and she stumbles forwards, barely managing to grab the chair to steady herself. She can’t even decide if she regrets it not, if that one victory she claimed in doing it herself was worth it, because all she is thinking is “I am fucking bald”. She doesn’t look like herself. She looks like a kid. Or a cancer patient.

Her next conversation with her friends will be all about this. And she’s almost certain she can’t handle that.

Unless….

Her second crazy idea of the day springs to mind. Granted, it’s not as drastic as shaving her whole head, but it’s still a jump. A big one. But it’ll give her back something she’s been missing for a while, power. Power to tell her own story, to make people look and see her, not cancer.

She opens her phone and gets up her camera, snapping selfies like it’s any other day. One with a peace sign up, one with her tongue sticking out, one laying in her bed, one in front of the mirror. She lines them all up on Instagram and opens the caption.

‘Hello friends. Tis I, Janis Sarkisian. Yes, I got a haircut. A bit more than a haircut. You all probably know by now that I have cancer. And you probably understand that people with cancer lose their hair. Yep, that’s what happened here folks. Please feel free to look at these pictures as long as you like in order to get used to it. I mean it. It’ll save all the awkward staring irl. I’ll do the same.’

Her thumbs dance over the keypad as she bites down on her lip, choosing words with just as much care as she would in her college essay. Maybe more.

‘I’m still me. Just without hair. See you guys when I see you. Please restrict your comments to only talking about how good looking I am and how my girlfriend is lucky to have me. Thank you for your time.’

She hits ‘post’ immediately, only to immediately regret it once she does. She drops down to the floor and holds her phone to her chest, back against the wall, left with no option but to wait for the next event to happen.

#cadnis ff #cadnis #mean girls broadway #mean girls fanfic #janis sarkisian #mean girls musical #fic: heart of stone

7 notes · View notes

mavmax · 3 years

Text

Doomsday | Self-Para

When: Last Thursday

Where: Around Santa Monica

Warnings: Panic Attack (no it wasn’t Maverick. DON’T COME FOR ME)

Featuring: Lexa Maxwell

6am - 7am

Thursday started out like every other. Wake up at 6am, head to the gym, workout, head home, hit the showers, and eat breakfast watching TikTok while the news plays quietly in the background. Normally, he didn’t pay attention to the news but his parents, especially his dad was particularly on his ass about hearing about Maxwell Energy’s stock spiking again. With that money, he could use that to anonymously fund his favorite pizzeria. The cogs in his head were slowly beginning to turn as he took another bite of his honey nut cheerios.

8am - 12pm

A fifteen minute drive to UCLA from Pico wasn’t bad around this time of day. Time passed by while listening to his favorite radio show, the talkshow hosts roasting each other and egging on Gossip God as today was the infamous Thirsty Ask Thursday. Many residents of Santa Monica sat at the edge of their seats, but Maverick, personally didn’t care what was said about him. Even the worst of rumors, he’d taken head on with a smile on his face...much to his sisters’ chagrin.

Arriving to class on time was a bonus at least. Sliding into his seat and his glasses resting on his nose. He had zoned out a few times while taking notes, mostly thinking about the weekend. Basketball game Friday, hang out with the boys Friday night. Mom’s chemo was Saturday morning, followed by Maxwell Energy’s congratulatory luncheon for Lexa’s first year as CEO. He had bugged Lexa earlier about throwing a party but she fought back saying she wasn’t going to brag in the middle of a crisis--whatever the hell that meant. Sunday was meant for relaxing, although knowing his parents it would mean brunch with the family before he could actually relax. It was a lot.

The hours seemed to have droned on until his final class from 11-12:30pm, except there was more bustling in the class than usual. Everyone had their laptops out, one side taking notes, the other side anxiously waiting for none other than Gossip God to make his weekly appearance on The Santa Monica Times page. Maverick remained focus on his notes until the green circle began to appear on the right side of everyone’s laptops signifying that Gossip God had been awakened.

There were occasional whispers among students while the professor attempted to teach the best she could, knowing that people would be more focused on gossip than the actual class. Maverick gave his professor props for holding it together, which is why he was hyper-focused on his work until someone nudged him to look on the right hand side on his screen when he suddenly saw pictures of Eric and Soo-Yun plastered all over the site. He could feel his heart drop to the very bit of his stomach.

“Eh, it’s fair game,” Mav whispered with a pout. Everyone around him was rather shocked at his reaction. Not at the fact that he was pouting, but the fact that he wasn’t seething. Raging. Incredibly angry, hurt. Instead, it was just a pout. Like a kid not getting his way at the store because his mom said no. It was simply that.

1pm

Maverick was headed home after grabbing some lunch on the way when his favorite radio station was reporting Gossip God’s Thirsty Ask Thursday posts that were coming up. Some were comical, others were...not. He hoped those people were thick skinned or had one hell of a support system for the shit that was being said. Before he was headed to the exit, his phone began to ring. It was Flo, Lexa’s receptionist.

“Talk to me,” Maverick responded with a smile.

“Mr. Maxwell--I mean--M-Maverick, I-I’m sorry to interrupt you right now, but is there a possibility you can come to the office right now?” Her voice was in a hushed whisper.

“Yeah, what’s up?” He asked.

“Well, um...Miss Maxwell...she--” She trailed off when there was the sound of a loud thud.

“Oh. Say no more. I’m on my way,” Mav added.

“Thank you, please hurry!” She quickly said before hanging up.

Maverick shook his head. He saw this coming a mile away but he had to have a stubborn ass big sister. He had to go in as carefully as he could otherwise he’d probably lose his own head. He shot a text to Izzy to keep her in the loop about everything and warned her to stay her ass off any social media for the next 48 hours with how everything was going.

1:30pm

As he made his way into the office, he practically bounced in, already clearly having gotten over the ordeal that one of his best friends was messing around with his crush, but it was what it was. He was attractive, he was smart, and athletic, he wasn’t going to dwell on that shit and get all bent out of shape, for what? Lexa on the other hand...it went deep for her. She and Eric had this special bond, but...it looks like she was too late, or maybe he wasn’t into her like that and she misread it. On the upside, their dad wasn’t in because it was their mom’s doctor appointment and Lexa’s floor was just her and Flo. Flo wasn’t a snitch, thank god.

Flo’s face brightened up.

“Maverick, how great of you to have made it! Miss Maxwell’s right this way,” She said quickly.

“How’s she doing?” He asked curiously, trying his best to peek through the blinds, to no avail.

“Between being worried about your mother and...whatever was said on Gossip God, badly,” She said with a soft sigh. After Lexa’s revelation, he promised to keep it a secret, but one thing he knew was that this was Lexa’s mania acting up.

“Don’t worry about it. The whole thing’s been pretty stressful, I think Lexa’s just taking on too much, you know?” He added. “Are there any meetings that she needs to attend?” He asked curiously.

Flo looked at her screen and then said, “She’s got a 2:30 and a 4pm. Shall I cancel those for her?”

“I’ll go on her behalf. She’ll have the rest of the day off and tomorrow as well,” He reassured the woman with a smile. Flo nodded, seeming to relax at his reassurance.

He entered his sister’s office to see her with her head down and her phone with a spider-webbed crack. He sighed, shaking his head.

“Lex,” He began carefully. “Hey,” He nudged her and watched as she lifted her head, mascara streaming down her face.

“It hurt that much, didn’t it?”

She shrugged, going to reach for tissues to wipe her eyes.

“I thought I could keep it together with mom and work, then this happened and I couldn’t control the surge of emotion,” She sighed.

“You need a break,” Mav began before Lexa interrupted him with,

“I need to get through the rest of these meetings.”

“Alexandra. You need a break before you implode on yourself. Sometimes all great leaders need a break. You’ve busted ass this past year. You deserve it,” He said with a wry grin. Lexa glared at Mav for a moment before relenting.

“You need a hug?” He offered

“No,” She said with a grin. “But thank you, Maverick. I do need a break. I also need wine.”

“Is it about-”

“We’re not going to even mention it.”

“Bet.”

5pm-7pm

Maverick playing boss for the day was weird. Sure, he knew everything that parents and Lexa had taught him, but it was always weird to sit there and talk to these hot shots and watch them all look at him up and down, surprised to hear him knowing his shit. Hell, it was exhausting. He couldn’t even imagine how Lexa dealt with that shit as a woman.

Finally, he made it home, crashed on his bed as his phone began to blow up between Gossip God alerts and friends reaching out to ask him if he was okay. Frankly, he was fine, despite taking a bit of an L, but you win some and you lose some. After ordering pizza because of the lack of willpower to cook, he scrolled watching some horrible pieces of gossip rolling in about his hyungie, Sunwoo and his friends Kian and Jae-Sang.

“Jesus, GG, can you let up on those three for once?” He mumbled to himself.

To add insult to injury, Ivy, his friend AJ’s sister was also heavily involved, they even threw in AJ and Lydia as well. This Thursday was particularly brutal for a lot of people. All he could hope was that everyone was okay. He wasn’t going to message anyone seeing as how, it was bad enough that their business was aired out for all of Santa Monica to see, but he did want to let everyone know that he would be supportive for them and so, he took to twitter to make known his stance.

@MavMax: My friends names must be candy to @gossipgod, but beware bc those names will rot those pearly whites of yours.

@MavMax: My money’s on Jae-Sang & Kian to whoop @gossipgod #JustSaying

@MavMax: Shout out to the realest ones out here hustling. @gossipgod’s just jealous for wasting his youth on talking shit about his peers.

@MavMax: RT:@AJSiciliani: “All talk no action” @gossipgod

And with that, Maverick left his phone off to the side and tuned into Netflix to watch Bridgerton, and finish up his homework for the rest of the week.

#sp

1 note · View note

brieannakeogh · 3 years

Text

So freak out info and writing info!

So first off on side note, today is mom’s birthday! She’s only been dead for 10 years and would have turned 60. So big year for her. Grandma is tomorrow and been gone for a year last month but her birthday is the day after her daughter’s.

My big MRI is tomorrow. I’ll find out how crazy things are then. It’s not like I’m freaking out or anything!! It’s not like the chemo I’ve been on to get off the steroids, that I’ve been off for over a week hadn’t started letting me have an all of a sudden severe headache while at work Saturday with no warning. After I told a separate doctor that everything was doing great Friday! Yep totally wasn’t what happened. Then I put myself on the same steroid for the last 3 days at a full pill and again I’m still having a few issues....ugggg. My MRI, doctors appointment and chemo injection is all in the afternoon an hour away tomorrow so who knows when I’ll get home. Also my aunt wants a zoom appointment and hear the conversation with my doctor since she can’t come into the office. Fun fun. She has never met her before.

Second thing that will excite everyone hopefully! Chapter 11 is done! I’ll be posting that either tonight if I don’t need a nap or Wednesday! Tomorrow I’ll definitely need a nap lol. By chapter 11 I mean the Kylo Ren fanfic. I have a lot I hadn’t posted of different things that with my problems and lack of time they won’t be posted until done. That is my new goal in life bc I don’t want you guys disappointed in new time frames. I’ve already told the husband if I go he will know what to put down and tends to edit sometimes too. Not read bc he’s doesn’t like romance things but he reads 500k fanfics, which are weird normal things. Either way I’ll have more time come January and hopefully motivation to work on the like 5 different works I’ve been picking at on top of the Kylo Ren thing. Patience is a virtue because like I said nothing will be posted until it’s finished. You all know that can take a good while too.

#personal #doctor appointment #writing info #rage against cancer #brain tumor

1 note · View note

countryoilmama · 4 years

Text

Doctors are for sick people

Yes I had the regular pap smears and mamograms after my mom died of breast cancer but I don’t believe in going to the doctor for stuffy noses and sore throats besides which I was rarely sick and nothing a couple of shots of elderberry syrup or extra vitamin C wouldn’t take care of in a day or two. My story starts here, we went on a motorcycle trip to Sturgis (it’s a yearly trip for us) and my tailbone was sore with what I figured was a cyst of some sort and would get better with some over the counter Prid. When we returned home, we were working to finish a rental house and I didn’t think much about it (it popped I know gross) and I went on with working and life it felt better. I also had a hernia didn’t hurt but was sure ugly. In March we finished the house, everything was rented and I figured it was time have my hernia fixed. Well as you are all well aware then COVID hit, no elective surgeries. So I waited, in May when they were doing elective surgeries I made a doctors appointment at a new clinic in town. The doctor although seemingly knowledgeable had a terrible bedside manner. She had me lay on a table took one look at my stomach and sent me off for blood work and an ultrasound. Then brought me right back and informed me of 2 things...One my sodium level in my blood was so low I shouldn’t drive, walk or anything else it was very dangerous and I needed to go to a hospital right then and 2 I had cancer. Well, I know enough to know you can’t diagnose cancer with an ultrasound and also I felt fine I wasn’t dizzy, no blurry vision, my skin wasn’t yellow, I didn’t need to go to a hospital right now. I came home and made an appointment at a UNMC clinic for the next week. I went to the appointment,same blood work, same examination he thought I needed a CT scan of my liver. Words like cirrhosis were used and so many questions about my drinking habits. Now I was known to tie one in in my late 20′s and early 30′s but not like he was suggesting. We set up the CT scan and I left the office. Later that evening around 9:30 he called and infomed me I needed to go to the hospital right then my sodium was dangerously low, I was not going to UNMC or any other hospital emergency room at 9:30 at night.Yikes! I assured him I would go first thing in the morning, he wasn’t happy but agreed. At 8:00 am May 19th I was dropped of at the UNMC emergency room (no visitor policy in place at all hospitals which really sucked for both of us) I was shown to a room, put in a gown, and hooked up to a sodium IV. Well that IV raised my sodium to fast which is also extremely dangerous. They then while they had me did my CT scan. About an hour later, I got the words YOU HAVE CANCER my response was what do we do now. I think this young ER doctor was taken back by my respone, he wanted to show me my scans, talk about my feelings and I wanted a plan. I am a doer and a fighter not a dweller. That phone call to my honey was hard, he wanted to be with me and I needed him, but he said all the right words and reminded me we are better together, we would get through this. I was admitted taken to the Buffett Cancer Center and I was absolutlely in the right place. I was scheduled for biopsies the next day a liver biposy in the Morning and a Rectal biopsy at 5:00 that meant no food and no drink from mignight the night before. Needless to say it was a long day. But I made it. I met my oncologist who I couldn’t be happier with but we had to get a few things straight. 1. I wasn’t a sick person and Cancer wouldn’t define me 2. I had way to much to live for. I have a great life, one that I fought for and deserve and I would fight this with everything in me 3 I was a doer, I needed a plan and she had one (but even the best laid plans change) 4. I would also be looking into alternative treatments. Her response I can appreciate that but I would just ask you let me know what you are doing and I won’t give an opinion unless you ask for it. I wasn’t asking. I was scheduled to have my port placed Wednesday May 27th and start my chemo Friday May 29th. So with that settled they were still fighting my sodium issue and had to take to salt pills which made my legs swell almost immediately which in turn made it hard to walk, move around and I am not a sitter., On Thursday May 21st every doctor on my team visited me and I told them all the same thing I would be home by dinner and they needed to make it happen they all agreed I was the captain of the ship (a really important lesson), they weren’t doing anything for me I couldn’t do at home and a holiday weekend was approaching and I wanted to be home. Needless to say, I was home by dinner. On that third day in the hospital my oncolgist came to see me to let me know, the type of cancer they thought I had was not what I had. I had a fast growing, fast spreading, rare cancer (less than 40,000 people in the worlk have this cancer) Of course I did, there isn’t much ordinary or normal about me. LOL My response was the same “ok then what’s the plan” and she had one. Until next time....Always DREAM BIG!

1 note · View note

enchantingkittengaditor · 4 years

Text

Living In Our Minds | Had Me At Hello ~ Padamé

Life. You don’t know what it’s truly like until your in the back of an ambulance with the worst headache of your life and vomiting, with your epileptic sister who herself is on fluid. But we weren’t there anymore, we were sitting the ER of a hospital waiting for our parents so the doctors could run tests on Leia and give her the medication that she needed to hopefully get better while they ran tests on me.

“We’re here. Where are our kids?” Mum screamed at the nurse at the desk.

“Oh god, why is our mother here without dad or Luke?” I asked my sister who still wasn’t quite her usual herself.

“We need to run some tests and give her some medication, but we need your permission as a legal guardian. Any allergies or pre-existing conditions?” The doctor asked her hurriedly, as she approached us.

“She has epilepsy and she’s allergic to watermelon. I think that’s it,” Mum responded.

“She’s got absence and clonic seizures. She’s allergic to all types of melon, lactose and boysenberries. And coffee,” I told the doctor filling in the blanks of mum’s memories.

“Alright so I’ll keep this away from her and I’ll get a nurse to take some blood,” The doctor joked about his coffee. “And I’ll get her test results. They should be back by now.”

“I’m going to call your father,” mum said to us.

After a few hours sitting at the hospital in a room with my sister at this point fine but waiting for the results of the tests the doctors ran. Luke had asked if they could run some sort of DNA test to see if his bio parents were on the hospital records when mum and dad had left the room.

“So, why do you want to know your bio parents are?” Leia asked sitting on her phone.

“Would you?” Luke responded.

“I don’t know. Maybe. If it meant mum wasn’t my mother then maybe. But I don’t know.”

“Hey Luke we have your results,” the nurse said.

“Ok? And?”

“We can’t give out information but we contacted someone from social services who can give you your file. But we can tell you, you don’t have the same genetic predisposition to brain injuries as your sisters.”

“Well, that’s good news.”

“IS IT?” I yelled at him.

“We also have both of your test results, so where are your parents?”

“I’m pretty sure they’re making out in some cupboard. Try the first one on your left,” everyone looked at Leia as she said all this, “What? I’ve lived with them my whole life and they’re always at it. I’m scarred for life. Honestly, I should move in with one of you two instead.”

“I’ll go get them,” The nurse said.

When they got back the nurse looked very much scarred.

“So Padamé, you had a brain aneurysm as your aware and surgery went well so there’s nothing you should be worried about you just need to stay in for a couple of weeks for observation. Then you should be ready to get back to your dragons,” the doctor joked to her, “Then Leia.”

“That can’t be good,” she stated.

“It’s not the best but you should be fine. We caught your cancer early. It’s in your brain but with chemo, it should be fine. It shouldn’t affect your epilepsy or your schoolwork. You just have to be careful around people because your immune system won’t be the best. Meaning Ms. Carter, you have to make sure that all your employees that Leia could come into contact with have their immunizations, even if your company is meant for natural healing. Same with any employees you may have at home and any teachers or friends of hers.”

“So does this mean I can’t participate in sporting events?” She asked the doctor.

“Unfortunately yes. You have to do some exercise but not sport as a whole.”

“You can however still watch your boyfriend’s football matches if you sit on the sidelines and away from crowds,” the nurse said responded.

“BOYFRIEND?” our parents screamed/questioned.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she simply stated.

“Maybe not but there’s a boy asking to see you outside claiming to be a friend,” the nurse teased her, “Anyway, I will probably be one of the nurses helping on your chemo. Until then is the boy allowed to come in?”

“Yes, please.” She smiled at the nurse.

“Hey, Leia. How are you?” the boy asked as I looked at her in shock.

“Just peachy, Pads,” she responded.

“We’re going to leave you three for a while,” Mum said to us.

“I thought I was your ‘Pads’, Leia?” I asked her in shock.

“You were until I started at school here, not NYC or LA or Prague or Moscow or San Fran or anywhere that we lived before for them.”

“You lived in Moscow?”

“For 2 months when I was five, mum and dad were filming something. Russia would not recommend it.”

“It was definitely better than the outback or Las Vegas, which you didn’t have to live through. The clothes. The hair. The sounds,” I said shivering at the thought of my formative years.

“Luke the person from social services is here,” the nurse stated.

“Do you want me to leave for a moment?” Paddy asked.

“Can you? I’m sorry I’ve wanted to share this moment with my sisters for years.”

“It’s cool. I’ll go to the cafe, want anything?”

“If we’re allowed coke then yes,” I said to this new boy.

“And M&Ms!” Leia piped up as he left.

“Two things. One he likes you…” I started.

“Two, you like him,” Luke finished.

“First, no. Second, no. Third, don’t you want to find out who your bio parents are?” She responded to our taunting.

“Oh yeah, that,” he said having forgotten about that.

“Idiota,” I said looking at Leia on the bed next to me.

“I know what that means!” Luke yelled at us, “I may have failed Spanish but I know what that word means.”

“Sure you do,” Leia said, “Maybe we should let the nice lady from social services come in.”

“Yup,” he said getting up from his chair. “Hi, I’m so sorry ‘bout that. You have some information about my bio family.”

“Yes, I do. But the bad news is they said on the paperwork they don’t want to be contacted, so I can’t give you any of their contact information,” She said walking into the room, smiling at us. “I can give you a few details if you want.”

“Absolutely, I want to know whatever I can about them,” Luke said to her.

“Luke are you sure you want to do this. They gave you up, I know they might not have wanted to but they didn’t want to be contacted either,” Leia piped up from her bed.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Luke said looking her in the eyes.

“Well, I can tell you they have 3 other children all of which they kept, they live in the London area and they’re good people, Luke. It also says here they originally wanted to call you Tom,” she said looking at the file.

“That’s the one thing I did know. It’s why I chose my stage name,” he said smiling at the thought of sharing a connection with his bio family.

“Wait you said they have three other kids. How old are they?” I asked wondering for him.

“21 and… 15,” she stated looking at the file.

“So three years younger than Luke and my age,” Leia said what we were both thinking, “Are they still in a relationship with each other?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Why’d they give him up for adoption?” I asked, “Where they teens or something else?”

“They weren’t teens in fact they were in their late 20s when you were born, as for why I couldn’t tell you. That’s not a question we used to ask back then.”

“Could you ask if they want to have contact now, that was in the 90s. I just really want to know my parents,” Luke told the lady.

“At least you already know you’re not related to the mess that is mum,” Leia said angrily at him.

“That is true, you two have to live your whole life know that,” he responded.

“I can see but chances are they won’t change their mind it’s been too long they might not want to have anything to do with you. But there is a small chance that they will. Trust me I get it I was adopted myself,” she said, “I’ll call them now and see but just know if they don’t agree there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Thank you for trying,” Luke told her as she walked out of the room to make the phone call.

“I’m back and I brought snacks for each of you,” Paddy said coming through the door as the lady left then handing us each of our snacks.

“You want to sit next to me Pads?” Leia said scooting over on her bed.

“No es tu novio, en realidad?” I said to her smirking.

“Shut it Padamé,” she responded glaring at me.

“I’ve got news for you, Luke. They might want to meet you if you truly want but they have to talk to their other kids and I’m allowed to give you the file when you come into the offices with your parents,” the lady from social services said coming back into the room, “I’ll make you an appointment for Friday at 4 pm. Have fun with your sisters.”

“You guys want to play a game of Uno?” Paddy asked pulling the pack of cards from his bag.

“Sure?” Luke and Padamé said together.

We spent the rest of the day in that room with visits from Sophie, Masie, Jason and Kit as well as mum and dad, and a few of Luke’s friends from Spider-Man. It was nice playing card games and talking and joking. It felt like old times, back before all of the fame and spotlights were thurst on us. Though after a day with the two teens I can definitely tell they’re in some sort of love with each other even if they don’t realize it yet between the long looks at each other when they thought the other couldn’t see them and the banter and the mock fighting. It was like first teenage love. It was so sweet watching them interact with one another. And I’m not the only one who thinks this, I asked everyone once Paddy had gone home and Leia had fallen asleep, and they all agreed with me. But that wasn’t the most memorable thing about the night that belongs to Sophie and my mother:

“Shots anyone?” Sophie asked at around midnight as we played poker.

“I’ll have one,” mum said as we all turned to look at her, “What am I not allowed alcohol?”

“Go ahead, Mrs. Carter,” Sophie said pouring her a shot proudly.

Truly an incredible interaction among one of the best from my mother and my friends ever. Simple.

#emilia clarke #tom holland #hugh jackman #gwyenth paltrow #family #friends #epilepsy #tw: epileptic content #epilepsy awareness #brain aneurysm #adopted #holland #holland family #london #fame #fame!au #fame au #kinda an original

2 notes · View notes