Don't Hold Me
Chapter 2
TIME JUMP 4 WEEKS LATER
"I'm scared." I say quietly. I take a deep breath, trying to force myself to relax as Arizona inserts the wand, trying to be careful, but I cringe all the same. "What if it's not breathing? What if my body is too broken to nourish this baby in a way it needs to grow?" I try not to move. This is uncomfortable, but she wanted the clearest image possible, and unfortunately at this stage of pregnancy a trans-vaginal ultrasound is the best image you'll get.
"Baby is measuring 8 weeks Addison, 8 week fetuses don't 'breathe.' She says it jokingly, rolling her eyes a little, but smiling all the same. "If you want to have this baby I will see you through the pregnancy, if you don't we can discuss your options. Either way you're going to be fine Addison." She reminds me, and I think for a moment that is a little insensitive, considering I am dying and won't live long enough to see this baby graduate kindergarten. Am I making the right choice? Is it wrong to bring a child into this world, knowing I won't be here to raise him?
"I want this baby." I say, confidently, trying not to let my worry show "More than anything." I tear up as she points to the flickering on the screen, I watch as she does the different measurements. I can tell by the images that the baby is healthy. I relax a little, and she hands me a print out of the ultrasound pictures she took. I can't stop smiling at them. "It's a boy. I know it's going to be a boy." I say, a warmth and joy I don't recognize wash over me. I can't help myself from daydreaming of what he will look like, and thinking of baby names. I'm going to be a mom. My baby is healthy and I'm going to be a mom. For that one moment in time everything else is secondary.
"Everything looks good so far." She says, removing the wand and placing it on the metal tray for cleaning. She takes her gloves off, throwing them away, and then washes her hands before going behind the curtain so I can get cleaned up and dressed.
"What do you think the chances are?" I ask her, pulling the curtain back. She is caught off guard by the question, but recovers quite well, smiling softly, and pulling me into a reassuring hug.
"I don't think we should deal with chances." She says, "The baby is healthy, and your body is handling the pregnancy well. Lets take things one step at a time."
I call Mark and ask him to meet me in the cafeteria for lunch. It's not my favorite place, by any stretch of the imagination, but it's a good central meeting spot, and the food, well it isn't that bad.
"I wish I could have been there, done the appointment with you." He says, frowning a little, as we pay for our food and find a secluded area to sit down.
"Next time, this wasn't a scheduled appointment, Arizona is just kind." I hand him the printout of the ultrasound, and he looks down at it, momentarily excited, and then worried.
"Addison I don't want you to..."
"No. Don't say it." I say, biting my bottom lip hard, trying not to let his tone upset me. I want this baby. I would be a good mom to this baby, even if this isn't the way we planned it.
"to get attatched." Damn it. He said it anyway. He is looking at me like I am a delusional psychopath. Shouldn't I get a say in how I want to spend the time I have left?
"He's healthy." I protest.
"But you're not, and you know better than anyone how quickly a fetuses health can decline."
"His health isn't going to decline Mark, He is meant to be here." I am crying again, and I don't care that people are starring. Most of the hospital knows by now that I have been diagnosed with cancer. There was no way to conceal it with the fucking hospital grapevine rumor mill they have here.
"You keep saying he... It's a boy?" Mark asks.
"I don't know for sure yet, it's just a feeling." I confess.
"You have to end this Addison." He demands.
"He's all I ever wanted."
"I don't care what you want..." He takes my hands in his own. "Addison I care what you need, and right now this is not what you need."
"I have a seventy-five percent chance of dying within the next five years Mark, a few months isn't going to make those odds any less horrific." I push the food around on my plate. I was so hungry earlier, but his arguments have caused my mood to shift, and replaced the hunger with Nashua.
"You have a twenty-five percent chance of surviving, if you get the treatment."
"Just STOP!" I request forcefully.
"Stop what?"
"Stop making this all about what you want."
"I'm not! Addison I just want ….."
"See? Again with what you want! You are, and you have been since the moment we found out. This is my fight, not yours and I..." My heart is racing. I am breathing harder than the occasion calls for. The tears are falling too hard, too fast. "I need him to survive. I need a reason to wake up in the morning and..." I want to say, a reason to not just take a knife and end this now, but I don't. Instead just saying "I'm done." throwing my uneaten food in the trashcan, and walking away.
Arizona's POV:
"I need a consult." Mark says, catching me as I come out of a patients room. I try to smile, to remain upbeat, but I know what he wants. I know I just cannot give him the answers he is seeking.
"You're a plastic surgeon." I finally settle on these words, I know that he isn't here about anyone else. None of my patients need plastic surgery, and if a new patient had come in to the PIT I would have been paged to help treat.
"I'm aware." He says, shrugging his shoulders. "It's not about a patient, I'm here to talk about Addison."
"She's my patient." I inform him.
"You're a pediatric surgeon. Last I checked Addison is over 18." He says, mockingly.
"I am pulling double duties, acting OB until chief finds a new attending."
"That's Addison's job."
"Yes well we both know why she can't do it, so what is your point?" I ask. I am not meaning to be snarky, or put Addison down. She is a friend of mine. She's been my friend for years, but she is in no condition to work.
"You're giving her false hope, you're making her believe everything is fine."
"Everything may very well be fine."
"How could you say that?" Mark demands, so furiously that I take a step back from him. "Nothing is 'fine' Arizona, she has terminal cancer. She's dying. She's not fine.'
"Mark... I just meant that..." I falter, but it's too late.
"You're just as bad as she is."
I think about this for a minute, as I take off my mask, and my gloves, throwing them in the bin, and then pump some hand sanitizer on my hands. I take a deep breath, sighing trying to carefully think of the right words to say, so that I help instead of hurt. I think of something I read, I can't remember where, one of those trashy young adult dystopian future books. Divergent? No. The Hunger Games. It was a quote about hope, 'Hope is the only thing stronger than fear. A little hope is effective. A lot of hope is dangerous.' or something along those lines. Addison needs hope. Will she even have the drive to fight if her baby does not survive?
"She needs hope Mark. We can't take that away from her. It is the only thing she has left." I finally say simply, but my words are heavy, and they linger for a moment.
"She is delusional." He says, throwing his hands up in the air. "There is nothing I can do to make her see this is going to make things WORSE."
"It's her body. She has the right to do what she wants to with her body."
"She's being stupid Arizona. STUPID, now she's 8 weeks and it's almost too late to..." His face flushes with a mix of anger, anxiety and shame. I don't want to hear him say the words.
"I know it's hard to understand her choices."
"I can't even imagine why she thinks this is a good idea."
"It's understandable to be upset, to be scared."
"I know." He says, softly.
"Now take how bad you feel and multiply it by a million. That is how bad your wife is feeling right now. She's had her entire world turned upside down. She's scared out of her mind, she's feeling guilty, and alone. She needs your support right now Mark, not your judgment."
ADDISON's POV:
I am laying on the couch when Mark comes in that evening. He hands me a bouquet of my favorite flowers, and bends down, kissing me gently. All traces of our argument earlier erased. He had an emergency surgery, and so instead of waiting I took a taxi home I haven't resigned yet, although both he and Amelia have been lecturing me constantly.
'If you are not going to get treatment the least you can do is stay home and rest.' They'd say, and then give me looks of concern that make me want to punch them in the face when they pass me in the hallways. I just want to take care of my patients. I am tired, but who isn't? I have worked several 14 hour shifts this week, mostly taking extra shifts to try and avoid Mark and Amelia at home. Exhaustion is to be expected. I am fine. I don't need to be babied.
"I need you to stay home. I need you to call Richard and put in your resignation." He says. Apparently our argument was not as forgotten as I thought it was.
"The hospital has a critical shortage. They need me."
"I need you." He sits down on the couch beside me, smoothing back my hair. His hands briefly cup my face, but then he looks down, and his face lightens ten shades. He put his hand on my chest, gently tracing the bruise that I know is showing. I had been so careful all day, making sure my top was just so, so that it wouldn't show. It must have shifted when I laid down. I put my hand ontop of his, our eyes lock, and I shake my head. 'no'.
"Let me see." He demands.
"Mark I'm fine." I protest. This is all just silly.
"You're not fine." He says, eerily calm as he gingerly pulls back my top, reveling a deep purple bruise on my collar bone. "What happened?" He demands and I shake my head again. Why does anything have to have happened?
"Nothing." I say miserably, embarrassed.
"Clearly something... you're working yourself too hard."
"It was the coffee grinder." I finally say.
"What?" Mark asks, confused.
"I opened the cabinet door to get something and the coffee grinder fell, and hit me."
"You're lying."
"I'm not! You didn't put it away properly this morning, and I have been telling you for months we need to hire someone to fix the cabinets because they are clearly not level. I guess I will have to do it myself." I say, suddenly agitated all over again.
"The bruise is as big as my hand." He says, holding his hand over the bruise, to gauge it's size. "We need to get you to the emergency room. You could be bleeding internally."
"What? Mark no... It's just a bruise." There is a long, full pause.
"This wouldn't have happened if only you'd have-" He accuses, but I stop him.
"Hadn't what? Hadn't tried to fix myself something to eat when no one else was home? You can't bring work into this Mark. I wasn't hurt at work I was hurt at home so clearly home is more dangerous."
"You need someone to stay with you. I will see if Amelia or I can..."
"You're not adjusting your schedules to accommodate mine. Seriously Mark. I don't need a baby-sitter."
"You need treatments."
"I don't."
"This is going to get worse."
"I'm fine."
"Does it hurt?" He asks so gently.
"No." I admit. He gives me a look and I amend my answer. "Not much."
"I need you to want this Addison."
"We don't want the same things. You're not going to convince me."
"We can have more children Addison, when you're in remission we can-"
"I'm not going to be in remission Mark, the odds are not in my favor."
"You don't know that- you can't know that."
"When have the odds ever been in my favor?"
Authors Note:
Thank you to everyone who is reading, and to everyone who is reviewing Don't Hold Me! I am trying to toy around with the idea of her being in denial for a bit. They say the first stage of grief is denial. I am really interested in how this is going to play out with her and Mark, and eventually the baby. When doing research for this story I found that chemo is not given in the first trimester, and is safest for the baby if given in the second or third trimester. Knowing the risks, for a baby she wants, I feel like Addison would delay treatments for a given period of time, until she feels the baby is strong enough to handle her getting the treatments. I feel like in this story Addison was always very much wanting the baby, even though she is scared, while Mark was always on the other side, and just wants Addison to get the treatments as soon as possible, so she can have a higher chance of remission.