Sunday, December 25, 2005
He stood in the middle of the isle, with his numb eyes glancing back and forth from doll to doll, wondering which would bring his little love the most joy; the most happiness. A shiver ran through him all the time now, no matter how many shirts or sweaters or coats or gloves or scarves he wore. Colder than the blustery wind outside, or the below freezing temperatures, or the stinging snow blowing in peoples eyes. One of the worst blizzards of the past 50 years, they said. But his shudder was caused by a much deeper cold; one brought on by fear.
He was tired. God, he was tired. His shoulders slumped forward so much; it looked as though he was about to topple over. The girl at the till caught herself three times from running over to catch him from falling. He noticed out of the corner of his eye, and any other time, he would have been touched by her humanity. But at least for now, he didn't care.
Had it really been 4 years? It was a lifetime ago that he had lost his wife to complications of childbirth. That it had happened so close to the Holiday season made the burden upon his heart all the more heavy. There were incomplete memories of dreams they had shared together playing in his mind. They had looked forward to the blessing of a new baby during the Christmas season...full of spirit and mirth and the unknown quantity that settles into peoples hearts and makes them softer to those about them. Their child would be brought into the world at the height of the year when most people were at their most giving, at their most loving. Decorations and songs would herald their new arrival, intended or not. She had even giggled at his insistence to decorate the bassinet with garland trimming.
Her death had come hard. She had held her brand new baby girl and had coo-ed at her. Even breastfed her. She sent him home to prepare things, and by the time he came back the following day...he forced it out of his mind with the fierce determination that had gotten him through the past 4 years. And that's when he realized he could barely remember from then to now. Day upon day had past, but he could only remember snippets of a few. Suddenly he was aware that he had been standing there for quite some time, staring at a bunch of dolls without really looking, and lost in the past. If he were to allow himself to venture down that road he really would become lost, and the all-to-familiar ache would return to his chest.
"Ducks", he said to no one in particular. "She likes ducks." He gathered up the doll with a duck on it's shirt, paused, and then gathered up the other one anyway. What is money during a time such as this anyway? It was everything and nothing, he reasoned. It could find the best doctors in the world, but it couldn't find cures. At least...not fast enough.
"It's a lucky little girl you have", remarked the 20-something cashier. She was doing a poor job of hiding her interest in him, he noticed. It wasn't likely she was looking to date him; she seemed more interested in learning his story.
"I'm the lucky one" he barely whispered. He avoided making eye contact with her, for fear that she could see his heart in his stomach, and his soul in his throat. She finished ringing him out wordlessly, and he took his bag of dolls. Only when he was almost to the door did she call out a plaintive "Merry Christmas", as though it were almost a question. It was one that went unanswered. He had a little girl to get to.
The snowstorm was as good as advertised for once. There wasn't many people out on the roads, since most people were already home, and weren't driven by a fear that was colder than the one that whipped around him. It was only a few more miles, but luck wasn't on his side that night; every blasted light conspired against him. Each light made him grow more annoyed. He should be with his little girl, and each light was another delay keeping them apart. The stiff-cold steering wheel creaked under his clenched hands, and he became aware how cold his car was. Every squeak and groan from the hard plastic and metal seemed to amplify as he suddenly became more aware of his surroundings. He had been so lost in thought, that he hadn't realized he was shivering noticeably. In fact, he hadn't bothered to turn the heat on. "Not much point", he thought, "when I'm 2 blocks away."
The worn and weary man pulled into his regular parking spot and stepped out into the chilled night air. Relax, he reminded himself. Relax and be calm. She doesn't need to see your worry. With that in mind, he indulged in a luxury of a moment to himself. A moment to take in the winter air. It amazed him how still and quiet it was. The only sound he could hear was that of the street lamps buzzing, and the crunch of the softly packed snow crunching under his feet as he ambled to the doorway. Inspiration hit him, and he scooped up a handful of snow, and softly packed it. It was small enough to fit in his pocket, but then again, she was a small little girl.
Quickly making his way up the steps after stepping through the door, he turned the corner and silently sneaked into his daughter's room. Seeing her sleeping wasn't so much as a surprise as seeing her sleeping so peacefully. She was as still as the air he had drawn outside, and the cold fear within reached for his throat. Striding towards her bed, he stubbed his toe on the chair, and it was enough to wake her. She turned to him, and her eyes became alight. It was the sort of look that healed all his internal worry. "Daddy!"
"Shhh, not so loud", he winked. And with it, he pulled the snowball out of his pocket, handing it to her discretely. She giggled, and remarked how cold it was.
"What's going on in there?" boomed a deep baritone voice from behind them both. Daddy shielded her from seeing the intruder, and from the man behind daddy from seeing her. With a wink to her and a quick nod from his little girl, he slid to the side, and she lobbed the snowball at the oncoming stranger, who of course, was no stranger at all.
It was utter surprise to the orderly, whose first inclination was to get out of the way. But in a split moment, he knew better, and stood his ground. In fact, he even subtly moved into the path of the oncoming slushball, allowing it to hit him square on the shin. Upon impact, he pantomimed a mortal injury and flopped onto the linoleum floor. Little Sophia was now gleefully lost in a cascade of belly laughs as the nurse rolled on the floor in dramatic mock agony. It was quite possibly the greatest gift of sound her father could have hoped for that day. Because that's what it meant to have a little girl with cancer. It meant looking for the smallest amounts of joy in the smallest moments.
It seems as though she had been sick with this gohram disease from the beginning, but it was actually her 6 month checkup. Still healing from the first loss, he was hit with a more terrifying thought of losing not only his wife, but his only solace.
Now, sitting in a hospital bed adorned with princess stickers, balloons, and numerous stuffed animals, you would have thought she was in her own bed at home. But considering everything she had been through, she probably knew this bed better than her own.
Collecting himself from the floor, the nurse set about to do the task he was set out to do. Sophia knew the routine better than he did, and already had her arm ready for Eddie the Orderly to do the blood draw for tests. Daddy silently marveled at her strength in the maw of this monstrous disease. She no longer wailed at the sight of the needles, and he rarely needed to console her after the test. She only got misty eyes when the needle was inserted, and he cursed at the cancer in his mind at the unfairness of it all for what must have been the millionth time.
Eddie took the bloodwork out of the room and said goodbye to the girl the staff called "the rainbow girl". When he had first arrived, he asked why. One of the secretaries explained it simply.
"It's a matter of perception. From a distance, she looks fine. She's as beautiful as a rainbow. But just because it looks wonderful from a distance, doesn;t mean that its so wonderful where the rainbow is. Life for those under the rainbow is a life with rain. Don't always think that because someone looks well means that they ARE well."
Back in Sophia's room, she started to drift back to sleep. Daddy brushed her hair from her face, and whispered a small I love you.
"I love you too, daddy. Tomorrow is Christmas, you know."
"I know, sweetheart, I know. I got you something. Would you like to have it now?"
"But daddy, I wanted to get YOU something" she pleaded, her voice full of alarm. They had been through it before, but he realized with a great suddenness how earnest she was in her conviction to give him something. And he knew that he couldn't pacify her with asking for a drawing again.
"Don't worry baby, you've got a gift for me" he lied. His mind raced with what to do about it. "I just forgot it at home. Just try to get some sleep." That would buy him some time until he could come up with something better.
With that, she seemed pacified. The last he needed to do is upset her more. She drifted off to sleep, and he soon after, leaning on her bed.
"Bruce, I need you take wake up" whispered a voice. It took him a moment to clear his mind from the tormented dreams he had to realize it was the doctor. With a sudden freeze of his blood at the connection of the voice and it's owner he sprang to awareness. Talking to doctors was always a moment of dread. They were the ones who constantly deliver the bad news, and his only outlet to hope for anything good.
"Bruce I need to talk to you in the hallway."
With a hollow in his stomach reverberating the call of the gong that brings with it the demons of dread and worry, he rotely followed the Dr. out. It was like your boss calling you into his office, or the long walk down to the principals office.
"Bruce, the test from a few days ago came back. The count is way down, and there aren't any further signs. Your daughter is in remission, and you can check out whenever you'd like today. But I expect to see you in my office next Friday for a follow-up."
Bruce laughed out loud as the doctor looked at him quizzically. Such a strange reaction for a parent to have.
Amidst wiping away tears of relief and joy, he answered.
"Dr, I have never been so happy to have been caught in a lie in my entire life." With that he turned and headed back into his daughters room, and waited to share the news with the only person that mattered.
Merry Christmas. And God bless us, everyone.
http://www.nationalchildrenscancersociety.com/
http://www.ccrf.org/
He was tired. God, he was tired. His shoulders slumped forward so much; it looked as though he was about to topple over. The girl at the till caught herself three times from running over to catch him from falling. He noticed out of the corner of his eye, and any other time, he would have been touched by her humanity. But at least for now, he didn't care.
Had it really been 4 years? It was a lifetime ago that he had lost his wife to complications of childbirth. That it had happened so close to the Holiday season made the burden upon his heart all the more heavy. There were incomplete memories of dreams they had shared together playing in his mind. They had looked forward to the blessing of a new baby during the Christmas season...full of spirit and mirth and the unknown quantity that settles into peoples hearts and makes them softer to those about them. Their child would be brought into the world at the height of the year when most people were at their most giving, at their most loving. Decorations and songs would herald their new arrival, intended or not. She had even giggled at his insistence to decorate the bassinet with garland trimming.
Her death had come hard. She had held her brand new baby girl and had coo-ed at her. Even breastfed her. She sent him home to prepare things, and by the time he came back the following day...he forced it out of his mind with the fierce determination that had gotten him through the past 4 years. And that's when he realized he could barely remember from then to now. Day upon day had past, but he could only remember snippets of a few. Suddenly he was aware that he had been standing there for quite some time, staring at a bunch of dolls without really looking, and lost in the past. If he were to allow himself to venture down that road he really would become lost, and the all-to-familiar ache would return to his chest.
"Ducks", he said to no one in particular. "She likes ducks." He gathered up the doll with a duck on it's shirt, paused, and then gathered up the other one anyway. What is money during a time such as this anyway? It was everything and nothing, he reasoned. It could find the best doctors in the world, but it couldn't find cures. At least...not fast enough.
"It's a lucky little girl you have", remarked the 20-something cashier. She was doing a poor job of hiding her interest in him, he noticed. It wasn't likely she was looking to date him; she seemed more interested in learning his story.
"I'm the lucky one" he barely whispered. He avoided making eye contact with her, for fear that she could see his heart in his stomach, and his soul in his throat. She finished ringing him out wordlessly, and he took his bag of dolls. Only when he was almost to the door did she call out a plaintive "Merry Christmas", as though it were almost a question. It was one that went unanswered. He had a little girl to get to.
The snowstorm was as good as advertised for once. There wasn't many people out on the roads, since most people were already home, and weren't driven by a fear that was colder than the one that whipped around him. It was only a few more miles, but luck wasn't on his side that night; every blasted light conspired against him. Each light made him grow more annoyed. He should be with his little girl, and each light was another delay keeping them apart. The stiff-cold steering wheel creaked under his clenched hands, and he became aware how cold his car was. Every squeak and groan from the hard plastic and metal seemed to amplify as he suddenly became more aware of his surroundings. He had been so lost in thought, that he hadn't realized he was shivering noticeably. In fact, he hadn't bothered to turn the heat on. "Not much point", he thought, "when I'm 2 blocks away."
The worn and weary man pulled into his regular parking spot and stepped out into the chilled night air. Relax, he reminded himself. Relax and be calm. She doesn't need to see your worry. With that in mind, he indulged in a luxury of a moment to himself. A moment to take in the winter air. It amazed him how still and quiet it was. The only sound he could hear was that of the street lamps buzzing, and the crunch of the softly packed snow crunching under his feet as he ambled to the doorway. Inspiration hit him, and he scooped up a handful of snow, and softly packed it. It was small enough to fit in his pocket, but then again, she was a small little girl.
Quickly making his way up the steps after stepping through the door, he turned the corner and silently sneaked into his daughter's room. Seeing her sleeping wasn't so much as a surprise as seeing her sleeping so peacefully. She was as still as the air he had drawn outside, and the cold fear within reached for his throat. Striding towards her bed, he stubbed his toe on the chair, and it was enough to wake her. She turned to him, and her eyes became alight. It was the sort of look that healed all his internal worry. "Daddy!"
"Shhh, not so loud", he winked. And with it, he pulled the snowball out of his pocket, handing it to her discretely. She giggled, and remarked how cold it was.
"What's going on in there?" boomed a deep baritone voice from behind them both. Daddy shielded her from seeing the intruder, and from the man behind daddy from seeing her. With a wink to her and a quick nod from his little girl, he slid to the side, and she lobbed the snowball at the oncoming stranger, who of course, was no stranger at all.
It was utter surprise to the orderly, whose first inclination was to get out of the way. But in a split moment, he knew better, and stood his ground. In fact, he even subtly moved into the path of the oncoming slushball, allowing it to hit him square on the shin. Upon impact, he pantomimed a mortal injury and flopped onto the linoleum floor. Little Sophia was now gleefully lost in a cascade of belly laughs as the nurse rolled on the floor in dramatic mock agony. It was quite possibly the greatest gift of sound her father could have hoped for that day. Because that's what it meant to have a little girl with cancer. It meant looking for the smallest amounts of joy in the smallest moments.
It seems as though she had been sick with this gohram disease from the beginning, but it was actually her 6 month checkup. Still healing from the first loss, he was hit with a more terrifying thought of losing not only his wife, but his only solace.
Now, sitting in a hospital bed adorned with princess stickers, balloons, and numerous stuffed animals, you would have thought she was in her own bed at home. But considering everything she had been through, she probably knew this bed better than her own.
Collecting himself from the floor, the nurse set about to do the task he was set out to do. Sophia knew the routine better than he did, and already had her arm ready for Eddie the Orderly to do the blood draw for tests. Daddy silently marveled at her strength in the maw of this monstrous disease. She no longer wailed at the sight of the needles, and he rarely needed to console her after the test. She only got misty eyes when the needle was inserted, and he cursed at the cancer in his mind at the unfairness of it all for what must have been the millionth time.
Eddie took the bloodwork out of the room and said goodbye to the girl the staff called "the rainbow girl". When he had first arrived, he asked why. One of the secretaries explained it simply.
"It's a matter of perception. From a distance, she looks fine. She's as beautiful as a rainbow. But just because it looks wonderful from a distance, doesn;t mean that its so wonderful where the rainbow is. Life for those under the rainbow is a life with rain. Don't always think that because someone looks well means that they ARE well."
Back in Sophia's room, she started to drift back to sleep. Daddy brushed her hair from her face, and whispered a small I love you.
"I love you too, daddy. Tomorrow is Christmas, you know."
"I know, sweetheart, I know. I got you something. Would you like to have it now?"
"But daddy, I wanted to get YOU something" she pleaded, her voice full of alarm. They had been through it before, but he realized with a great suddenness how earnest she was in her conviction to give him something. And he knew that he couldn't pacify her with asking for a drawing again.
"Don't worry baby, you've got a gift for me" he lied. His mind raced with what to do about it. "I just forgot it at home. Just try to get some sleep." That would buy him some time until he could come up with something better.
With that, she seemed pacified. The last he needed to do is upset her more. She drifted off to sleep, and he soon after, leaning on her bed.
"Bruce, I need you take wake up" whispered a voice. It took him a moment to clear his mind from the tormented dreams he had to realize it was the doctor. With a sudden freeze of his blood at the connection of the voice and it's owner he sprang to awareness. Talking to doctors was always a moment of dread. They were the ones who constantly deliver the bad news, and his only outlet to hope for anything good.
"Bruce I need to talk to you in the hallway."
With a hollow in his stomach reverberating the call of the gong that brings with it the demons of dread and worry, he rotely followed the Dr. out. It was like your boss calling you into his office, or the long walk down to the principals office.
"Bruce, the test from a few days ago came back. The count is way down, and there aren't any further signs. Your daughter is in remission, and you can check out whenever you'd like today. But I expect to see you in my office next Friday for a follow-up."
Bruce laughed out loud as the doctor looked at him quizzically. Such a strange reaction for a parent to have.
Amidst wiping away tears of relief and joy, he answered.
"Dr, I have never been so happy to have been caught in a lie in my entire life." With that he turned and headed back into his daughters room, and waited to share the news with the only person that mattered.
Merry Christmas. And God bless us, everyone.
http://www.nationalchildrenscancersociety.com/
http://www.ccrf.org/
Comments:
I do not know who this is for But Matt this is the most beautiful and touching story sad for it reminded me of sitting on the bed going thew baby names and then I was flooded with the thoughts of Sally in the hospital during the holidays. thank you for this story it was so touching in many ways.
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