Disclaimer: Only the OC belongs to me.
"I'm so sorry Piper, you have cancer."
Those were the words that changed my life forever. I had thought I was just going in for the usual post test reassurance that everything was fine. I'd had the migraines for a month and at first my doctor had reassured me it was probably just from the stress. Being a junior in high school with a possibility of getting into Julliard with a full scholarship due to your prowess tickling the ivories can definitely be stressful.
I was a piano prodigy, not to toot my own horn of course. But I had been most of my life. I began playing at three and took to it like a fish to water. I loved to play; drowning in music was the only thing that made life worth living sometimes. My parents had been thrilled, they gave everything to my abilities. Hired the best teachers, sent me to the best music schools they could. We weren't rich, but I was good enough to get scholarships to the private schools and that helped, immensely. Piano was my life.
Then the migraines started. They were nothing more than shear hell at first. The, I should be practicing but I feel like I imagine Zeus did when Athena was trying to spear her way out of his brain, kind of hell. But, life goes on, so I popped a few painkillers and kept moving. The migraines didn't stop though. Dad began to worry, so he made an appointment and we went to see my doctor. Doctor Harris had been my pediatrician for as long as I could remember. She was going to have to pass me off soon, we both knew, but I think she had a soft spot in her heart just for me. So when we went in, she humored my dad and ran some tests.
When she called us back to her office, I figured she was going to tell us it was just as she expected and I was just having migraines, prescribe me some stronger painkillers and send us home. But the look on her face when we walked in told me I was wrong. I smiled, like I always did when I saw her, and for the first time ever she didn't smile back. "Take a seat."
That's when I heard it for the first time. Cancer. I had cancer. "It's a tumor, actually." She explained.
All I could think was what sixteen-year-old has a brain tumor. What sixteen-year-old even gets cancer?
"The good news is we caught it early, the tumor hasn't had time to grow, which means it isn't inoperable."
I couldn't breathe. The walls were closing in on me.
"I know this is a lot to take in, but I have someone here to walk you through everything."
"I think I'm going to throw up." And I did. Luckily I made it to the bathroom first. I also had the good sense to lock myself in. I emptied my stomach into the freakishly sanitary toilet and then crumbled into a heap next to it.
Cancer. Not just any cancer but a tumor. And not just any tumor but a tumor in my brain. Of all the things for a migraine to be, I wasn't sure it was possible for it to be anything worse than that. It would turn out that I was very wrong, again.
Dr. Harris had a friend named McAndrew. Dr. McAndrew worked at a hospital called Ocean Park, which was the best hospital in the state. It was actually one of the best in the country, and McAndrew was one of the best surgeons to be found anywhere. I got some time with him because McAndrew owed Dr. Harris a favor, the nature of which the favor occurred would not be specified, but seeing as McAndrew was one of the best and probably swamped by people begging for his help and I managed the top of the list instantly made me think this favor was huge.
"I know you're thinking this is a death sentence, but it's not. I am one of the best for a reason, and Beth was right. This is definitely operable." Dr. McAndrew was a very attractive man, in that older and more mature sort of way. He was looking over my charts, something I myself had not done. I didn't want to see the scan of the tumor. I didn't want to have to look at the thing that had forced its way into my brain and was currently taking up space where it wasn't wanted. "There is something you need to understand though, and this is very important."
"What is it?" I asked calmly. I was staying calm on the surface, because if my dad saw me freak out I think he'd lose it too.
"The tumor is in the part of your brain that controls movement and language." McAndrew paused.
"What does that mean?" I was trying to follow but the panic was setting in again.
"It means, when we cut it out you'll most likely lose the ability to speak and move most of your body parts, defiantly the major ones, arms, legs, even your fingers."
"What?" I whispered, feeling sick again.
"After the surgery you'll need intensive physical therapy to relearn how to speak and walk and move all of your other limbs."
"What?" I could feel the tears filling my eyes. It was so much worse. So much worse, than I could've ever imagined. I could see my whole life, everything I had worked towards, Julliard, all of it disappearing. "But – but I'm a pianist."
"You won't forget anything, you'll still know how to play and have all of your memories –"
"I just won't be able to speak or use my limbs! So I'll remember the notes and what my hands should be doing to play the songs, they just won't be able to?" I was in full freak out by that point. Total panic attack mode. All the oxygen left my lungs, I got dizzy, the room became too small. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't stop shaking.
"Is there any other way? What about chemo?" I could hear my dad asking.
"Chemo is an option but it isn't a certain way to get rid of the tumor, the surgery is. And after the surgery she'd have to have chemo anyway to make sure the cancer is gone and doesn't come back."
"Doctor McAndrew, my daughter has a chance to get into Julliard. She's a prodigy! Piano is her passion, her life! If there's even a chance that the chemo could work and she could keep her ability to play, we're going to take it." I have never loved my dad more than I did in that moment.
"Alright," Dr. McAndrew sighed. "We can give it one month. If the chemo doesn't start working by the end of the month though, I will have to strongly urge you to go through with the surgery. If we wait any longer at that point, the tumor might grow or the cancer might spread and then chemo would be our only hope."
"Thank you." My father shook his hand and a deal was made.
The next day I packed a bag and walked into Ocean Park hospital. I got off the elevator onto the floor with all the other dying kids around my age or younger. Though if I was being a bit less morbid I'd say not all of them were dying. Some of them were just extended stay patients.
At the front desk there were three nurses. One a lean tan skinned man with slight facial hair and sweet brown eyes. He was smiling and laughing as he talked to one of the other nurses. She was young, probably fresh out of college, with long auburn hair and innocent grey eyes. She seemed so very bubbly, and she talked with animated hands to the male nurse.
The third nurse had been eyeing me since I stepped out of the elevator. She was an older black woman with deep brown eyes and a no nonsense expression on her face. She watched me walk up to the desk. "Who are you?" She asked with no introduction.
"Piper Douglas." She didn't ask for my last name but I thought she might mean me to give it.
"Oh yes, Piper, I've been expecting you. I'm Nurse Jackson, the head nurse of this ward. This is Nurse Dobler and Nurse Kenji. We'll be taking care of you from now on." Nurse Jackson gestured to the female and male in turn. They both waved, smiling kindly at me. I nodded back, not really feeling like smiling. "Come with me, I'll show you around."
I follow Nurse Jackson down the hall. The halls are painted in soft comforting colors, not white like the rest of the hospital. The room she takes me to is empty. There are two hospital beds inside, one of which is bare, the other has sheets folded neatly at the bottom. "I guess that's where I sleep."
"You'd be right. Dr. McAndrew wants you to start chemo as soon as possible, so your first treatment will be tomorrow at ten in the morning. He'll be by later today to make sure you understand what's going to happen, alright? I'll leave you –"
"Hey, Nurse Jackson I was just looking for you. Kara said she saw you bringing in a new girl." A bald boy on crutches smiled in the doorway. Looking him over I noticed he only had one leg.
"Hey, Leo, just the man I'd want to see. This is Piper, she'll be staying here a while. She's just about your age too. Make her feel welcome would you?" Nurse Jackson smiled at Leo and then me before leaving the room.
"Hey." Leo nodded.
"Hey." I nod back.
"Mind if I ask what you're in for?" He joked.
"Brain tumor. Mind if I ask how you lost the leg?"
"Cancer, as well."
"You didn't mind losing it?"
"Are you kidding? I hated it, but I'm alive, aren't I?"
"You've got a good attitude about all of this."
"It comes with time."
"Look, I don't know why Nurse Jackson thought I needed a welcoming committee, but I don't. I just realized my entire life is ending and I'd really rather be alone right now." I knew I was being mean, but I really didn't want to listen to all the inspirational crap this guy Leo might feel the need to spew at me.
"Alright, I understand. When you do get tired of being alone though, my room is right down the hall, the one with the painted windows. Come by and meet the rest of the group." With not even a glance back Leo turned and walked off.
Left in the room by myself, I couldn't think of what to do. This overly sterile, white walled room was going to be my home for who knew how long. I felt trapped. I felt lost. I started chemo in the morning and I couldn't find anything comforting to think about. If the chemo worked I might still be able to play piano, I'd probably be bald and fragile, but I could play. That was something, but I was kidding myself.
Chances were the chemo wouldn't work and I was getting my hopes up for nothing. Chances were I would need that surgery and my entire life would end. Or worse, my life could literally end and I would die. I wasn't prepared for that train of thought. I honestly had not realized my mind would wander there. I crumpled onto the bed with the sheets and I cried. I had not cried when I heard the news, I had not cried when I thought I might never play again, even though I had been really close. But thinking I might actually die, my life could really be over soon, I cried.