What's Left of Me

“You’re falling in love with me?”

“Yes.” My voice cracks. “I’m in love with you, Parker.”

Parker pulls me into him, engulfing me. He kisses my head, my cheek, my eyes, and lastly my lips.

More tears fall. I never thought of myself as one of those women. The type who get all sappy when a man says they love them, or vice versa, but now I understand why they do, because it’s in this moment that I know I’ve found the person I was meant to be with.

“I want all of you, Aundrea. Everything and anything that you will give me. I want it all. I want to be your legs when you can’t walk. I want to be your arms when you’re too weak to eat. I want to be there for you day and night. But never again are you to withhold information from me. Ever.”

I just nod multiple times at him because I can’t form any words around the swelling in my throat. I don’t think I’ve ever cried this much in my life. Not even when I was diagnosed with cancer, or the two times it came back. I cry freely as Parker pulls me onto the floor and into his lap. I kiss him like I’ve never been kissed. I kiss him like I will never love or need anyone else. I put everything I have into him and don’t pull away.

When his tongue brushes lightly against mine, I pull him tighter against me. I can’t get close enough to him, no matter how hard I try.

He deepens the kiss further as his hands move to my lower back and mine wrap firmly around his neck. He moves to a more comfortable position on the floor, taking me with him so that I’m straddling his lap. Stopping the kiss, he just holds me while I cry.

Parker eventually pulls me onto the bed so that we’re lying on our sides, facing each other. He brings his hand up to my head where the bandanna wrap is and starts to pull on it gently, trying to take it off. I instantly move to stop him.

“Please,” is all he says.

The only people who have ever seen me without hair are my parents, Genna, Jason, and Jean. No one else. It’s a huge step to allow someone else into this insecurity of mine.

I take my hands off of his and allow him to push the wrap backward onto the bed. He leans forward, trailing kisses over my eyes, forehead and lastly all over my bald head. Again, I feel like a completely different person as the tears start to flow down my cheeks for the millionth time tonight. With a loud sigh, I smile as Parker continues to trail the kisses down the side of my face, kissing away the tear tracks.

“Can you please tell me about it? Whatever you’re okay with sharing right now.”

Pulling back from him a little, I take a deep breath, then let it out slowly. This is new to me because usually when I meet someone who knows I have cancer they’ve already heard the story from a family member or a friend. I’ve rarely had to share it. I think back to the beginning and try to explain it all to him.

“I found a lump on the side of my neck when I was seventeen. Well, Adam, my boyfriend at the time, did. He had just gotten over strep, so I didn’t think anything of it. When it didn’t go away, my mom brought me to the doctor. After two failed strep tests, the doctor passed it off as allergies and said it would go away. Slowly it got bigger, so I was given antibiotics that did nothing. More lumps formed under my right arm, so my parents brought me back in—this time to a different doctor. ‘Just your hormones,’ that’s all she said. I felt fine. I had no other symptoms, so there was no reason to run tests. My parents didn’t think to question the doctor because, after all, she’s a doctor.

“Just after the New Year, the fevers started. I got night sweats, and the lumps got so big they became painful. I couldn’t raise my hand in school, or turn my neck from side to side. One morning, I couldn’t get out of bed because I hurt so badly, and my chest was so tight. My dad brought me to the emergency room, demanding tests be done.”

Parker doesn’t speak, but gives me a small smile of encouragement to continue.

“The rest happened so fast. I had a CT, MRI, PET Scan; you name it. Blood draws and a biopsy all in a week. One minute I’m hearing the words college and graduation, and the next all I hear is cancer. You have cancer.”

Clearing his throat, he asks, “What kind?”

“At that time, I was diagnosed with stage four Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. It had moved to lymph nodes in different parts of my body, and to my lungs.”

Shaking my head, I stop. Even now, thinking back to my first diagnosis, it makes me so angry. All those months of nothing being done. Not even one test. Nothing.

“Surgery wasn’t an option, except for on one of the lumps on the side of my neck. It was so big that the general surgeon I met with at the time decided to remove it.” I point to the long scar on the right side of my neck.

Parker gives my hand a little squeeze, so I keep going. “I met with an oncologist and started chemotherapy right away. It was awful. I got extremely sick until they found the drugs that I could handle. I was forced to drop out of school because I couldn’t keep up. My teachers and principal were great because they worked with me and allowed me to do course work at my own pace, but unfortunately, it wasn’t fast enough to graduate with my friends that June.”

“That explains the graduation pictures of you and Jean,” Parker states, remembering the photo he saw in my scrapbook.

I nod. “I got so sick that I had to be admitted for my treatment. While I spent my eighteenth birthday getting chemo, my friends took a senior trip to Cancun. While I was shopping for wigs, my friends were shopping for prom dresses.” I close my eyes at the memory. It was one of the worst times of my life.

“They kept texting me pictures of all the different colors and styles of dresses along with ‘ Wish you were here.’ Eventually, I threw my phone across the room so that I wouldn’t have to hear it beep one more time, or see one more dress.”

“I’m so sorry, Aundrea.”

I shrug. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. No one should have to go through that.”

I gaze into his pained, glistening blue eyes that hold so much emotion, like he’s actually feeling everything I’m telling him.

I take another deep breath. “After nine months of chemo, and thirty-six rounds of radiation, my markers came back clear. I went a year with everything going well. I was feeling great. I wasn’t fatigued or sick. I was actually happy. But that all went away when one of my blood tests came back elevated and additional tests had to be done immediately. I was told my cancer was back—stage three. It was at that moment that I realized you don’t have to feel sick to be sick. People can feel invincible one day, and be given tragic news the next.”

I pause, glancing at Parker. He’s watching me intently with soft eyes. He doesn’t have to speak for me to know what he’s thinking. I see it all. I see the emptiness. The sadness. The longing. All the things I’ve felt.

“I needed more chemo and radiation. I didn’t understand … all that treatment for what? For it to come back? For the last two years, I’ve had off and on chemo between oral and IV drugs. I did trial studies, different drugs, newer drugs, everything. In and out of hospitals, scans and more biopsies. After everything failed, Dr. Olson suggested the bone marrow transplant. We got my counts to a good enough place where I was a candidate to be my own donor.”

“Can’t they just go in and remove it?”

“Not with Hodgkin’s. It travels in your lymphatic system. Just slithers its way through your body. One second it can be here and gone, and the next it shows up somewhere else. It spreads like the plague. It’s chemo and radiation, or just chemo for treatment. And, hopefully, in my case, a bone marrow transplant.”

“And you already had that done?”

“Just before I met you I had a needle stuck through my pelvic bone. They harvested my cells, and then froze them until I’m done with the chemo. I only have one treatment left. Then I think it’s a couple weeks until they give me the cells back. I need this to work, Parker.”

My mouth is dry from all my talking, but I don’t stop. I tell him all about my port, my current treatments, losing my hair, and more on what’s to come. He doesn’t speak. He just holds my hand while drawing light circles in my palm with his thumb.

He asks questions, and I answer.

I’m not sure what I was so afraid of. Love heals all wounds.

I hope.

Chapter Nineteen

Parker insists on coming with me to my last chemo treatment, along with Genna and my parents. Jason wanted to come, but couldn’t be away from the clinic, and assured Parker not to worry.

I get my blood drawn, then head downstairs to the oncology office for an appointment with Dr. Olson, who came to the Mayo Clinic for the day. As my name is called back, everyone stands with me.

As we make our way back to the room, I smile at the thought of having everyone I love— aside from Jason and Jean—with me. I feel blessed to know I have the support of my family. To know they want to be here for this: my appointment, my last treatment; everything.

“Dr. Olson will be with you in a few minutes,” the assistant says as she exits the room.

There isn’t enough space for all of us at the small table. Parker and Dad stand off to the side, while Mom sits next to me and Genna sits in an extra chair the assistant brought in.

There are two soft knocks on the door before Dr. Olson walks in.

“Wow, full house today.” She laughs as she makes her way over to the desk. I re-introduce her to my family, then to Parker. I don’t know what to call him, so I just call him my friend. He doesn’t seem to disapprove, but I also don’t miss the small twitch in his jaw at the introduction.

“Aundrea, how are you feeling today?”

I love this question. She never asks me how I am. It’s like she just knows how her patients are doing. Crappy. I mean, come on, we have cancer. She always gets to us on a different level. A deeper level.

“Today? Great,” I say with a smile. It’s the truth.

“That’s good. How are the symptoms your dad called me about?”

“The pain is better. I still ache every now and then. I think the headaches are the worst. I feel like I have one every day.”

“Yeah, that’s a common side effect, and, unfortunately, an unpleasant one. Do you think you want something for migraines?”

“No, I already take enough pills.”

“Fair enough. Well,” she looks down at my open file on her desk, “Your markers came back.” Looking back up to me, she gives a smile. “They’re good, Aundrea. Great, actually. We’ll schedule one more lab draw in four weeks, and if all is well, you’ll be getting the transplant.”

My mom claps her hands together in excitement. Genna smiles at me and Dad gives me an approving head nod. When my eyes meet Parker’s, he gives me a wink.

“That’s great!”

“I thought you’d like that. We’ll admit you for the transplant. Remember, you’ll stay in the hospital for about three to four weeks, and your outside visitors will be very limited.”

I look at Parker, but I can’t read his expression. He’s hanging on her every word.