TITLE: Hearts that Hold: Final Goodbye (Part ¾)
AUTHOR: Alyssa
DATE: December 11th, 2001
CATEGORY: Abby angst (as usual :)
SPOILERS: Well...very, very mild spoiler for episode six of season 8...nothing that will ruin your ER enjoyment if you haven't seen the episode already. And spoilers for the end of season seven.
Please review!
With prayers for Jack, Jeremy, and their families. We miss you.
Hearts That Hold: Final Goodbye
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Children begin by loving their parents; after a time they judge
them; rarely, if ever, do they forgive them." --Oscar Wilde
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Mom?" Abby called, pushing open her front door. She shook the rain out of her umbrella in the hallway, brushing excess water droplets off her jacket. Shoving the umbrella into the stand beside the entrance, she peered around the apartment. "Mom?"
"Abby?" her mother said, appearing in front of her. "What are you doing home so early?"
Abby smiled weakly, then offered the lie she'd thought of on the way home. "It was slow, and there weren't a lot of patients, so they sent me home." She didn't mention the part about Weaver catching her having a hysterical break down in the bathroom and ordering her to go home and get some sleep.
Maggie frowned. "You don't have to come home for me, Abby," she sighed. "I'm not dying today!"
"I know," Abby said meekly. "I-don't worry about it." She smiled pleasantly, taking her coat off and hanging it on the rack. "Really raining out there."
"Better than snow," Maggie observed, heading back towards the guest room.
Abby followed her. "What are you doing?" she asked interestedly. The bed was covered with photographs and albums, jewelry and books.
"I was just going through a box of old things I brought with me," Maggie offered, sitting down on one of the only clear spots on the bed. "Pictures and stuff."
Abby picked up a photo and laughed. "Me and Eric," she said, grinning.
"That was Halloween," Maggie chuckled. "You were seven."
"Right after Dad left," Abby sighed. Both their smiles faded.
"Yeah," Maggie said, sounding crushed. She turned back to a photo album that lay open on the pillow.
Abby knelt on the floor and sifted through the pile of mementoes in front of her. A tarnished locket, a beat up copy of The Joy Luck Club, an old, dusty address book. Her eyes landed on a faded photograph. It was of her, at two years old, a huge grin on her face, standing happily between her parents. Her mom was pregnant, and she and her husband both had their arms around Abby.
Abby studied her face. She looked so happy, so carefree. That little girl hadn't worried about mood swings, or how to find food, or cancer. She hadn't envisioned life without Daddy. She hadn't thought about being drunk, or having an abortion. In fact, she carried a doll, meticulously dressed, hair carefully styled: she *wanted* to be a mommy.
Gently, she brushed the dust off the badly colored photo, tracing her fingers along the little girl's face-*her* face. She couldn't get over the smile, the huge, toothy grin that lit up the entire
picture. Both her parents were smiling too, looking-well, *happy.* Loving. Normal.
She alternately envied and pitied the girl. There was a joy about her that Abby couldn't remember ever feeling, and yet, she had no idea what she was about to go through. That little girl had no idea that thirty years later, she'd be miserable, lonely, and watching her mother die.
Abby would give anything to be two-years-old again. To not feel the weight of responsibility and depression on her shoulders. To not feel lonely and unloved. But, with equal passion, she also knew that she'd never, ever do her childhood over again. Because, despite what Maggie said, the bad parts had outweighed the good.
She looked up at her mother, who was digging through a big cardboard box. "Can I keep some of these pictures?"
Maggie shrugged. "You can keep all of them." She glanced up. "Unless Eric wants some of them."
"I'll ask him when he comes home," Abby promised, tucking the thirty-year- old family photograph in her pocket. She raised her eyebrows as Maggie pulled a black leather-bound book out of the box. Her eyes widened. "My diary!"
Her mother laughed. "I didn't know I still had this."
"Did you read it?" Abby asked, staring at the notebook. She'd treated it with incredible care, she recalled, filling it with painstakingly small, neat writing and keeping it in a plastic bag to
prevent the corners from bending.
"No," Maggie assured her. She ran her fingers over the cover. "I wanted to, at one point," she remembered. "After you'd gone to college. I found it, and.well, you were mad at me, and I guess I was mad at you. But I opened it, and on the first page." She opened the book and held it up to Abby. `PRYING EYES NOT WELCOME: READING THIS DAIRY IS PUNISHIBLE BY DEATH!' was scrawled in pink pen on the first cream-colored page. Abby smiled at the childish handwriting, the misspelled words. "Well, I thought I'd better let you keep your secrets," Maggie finished.
Abby nodded, taking the book from her mother. "Thank you," she said.
She paged through the journal as Maggie continued searching through the carton. Without stopping to read, her eyes caught on different things: `Mommy's depressed again, and I don't know what to do.' `Mom didn't come home from work today, and we don't know where she is.
Eric is scared.and so am I.' She didn't notice anything on problems with friends, or school-nothing about boys she liked, or movies she went to, or playing with other girls.
`I hate my mother,' she wrote when she was 14. `I hate when she does this to me. Did she not realize that I would be the one to find her? Did this not occur to her? Does she not realize that I'm the one who has to pick up the pieces? It's just not fair."
"Abby," Maggie said suddenly, urgently. "Can you get me a morphine tablet from the bathroom?"
"Yeah," Abby said, jumping off the bed. "Are you in pain?"
Maggie bit her lip hard, holding her stomach and nodding. Abby ran for the bathroom.
"When was the last time you took one?" she asked, returning in seconds with the bottle of pills and a glass of water.
"Right before you came home," Maggie gasped, tears dripping down her face. Abby was having trouble breathing herself.
"Mom, you're not supposed to take them so close together," Abby said nervously. She scanned the bottle quickly. One every six to eight hours. "How many have you taken today?"
"Four," her mother managed, curling up into a ball.
Abby looked at her watch. It was only 3:30. "Mom, you can't take another one now, you just can't."
"I can't breathe," Maggie whispered, coughing hard.
Abby eased her mother onto the floor and held her tightly. Oh, God. Oh, God. "Okay, Mom, it's going to be okay," she said soothingly, hoping- praying-this wave of pain would pass. "Okay, Mom."
She thought fast, but came up with no ideas. If this were a patient, what would I do? she asked herself.
She didn't know.
"Okay, Mom," she said again. Her mother's eyes were closed, her breathing labored. "Mom?" She shook her hard, but Maggie didn't stir. "Mom!"
Get her to the hospital, her mind told her. Call 911. She lunged for the phone.
Ten minutes later, they were in an ambulance, speeding toward County General. Abby clutched her mother's hand and tried not to think as they raced towards the hospital.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Hope is the feeling you have that the feeling you have isn't permanent." -- Jean Kerr
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The ambulance doors flew open, revealing Luka and Kerry. The paramedic, someone Abby didn't know, gave the bullet. "56-year-old woman with end- stage pancreatic cancer, collapsed at home. Pulse ox is 98 on 20% oxygen, BP is 100/70, pulse 110."
"Abby?" Luka and Kerry gasped simultaneously.
Kerry turned to look at the patient on the gurney, recognition registering on her face. "Let's go to trauma one!" she ordered. "Abby, what happened?" she asked calmly as they pushed the stretcher toward the hospital.
"She said she was in pain," Abby answered, voice cracking. "She just passed out."
"She has pancreatic cancer?" Kerry clarified. Abby nodded weakly. "When was she diagnosed?"
"A month ago," Abby managed as they walked through the trauma room doors.
"Abby, we got this from here," Kerry assured her. Abby stood numbly in the middle of the room, watching Chuny start an IV. "Abby." Her voice was gentle, but Abby couldn't move. "Luka, take her out," Kerry ordered.
"Come on," Luka said softly, taking her by the arm. "Let's go outside."
Abby allowed him to drag her out of the room, never taking her eyes off her mother. Luka closed the doors behind him, and the two stood in the hall, watching the activity in the trauma room through the windows.
"How long has she been living with you?" Luka asked quietly.
"Three weeks," Abby whispered. The nurses and doctors were bustling around her mother, running tests and checking vital signs. Carter appeared in the room, his eyes widening when he saw the patient. He looked at Abby through the window, face communicating sympathy, then
turned back to help.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he continued gently, his strong hands rubbing her back.
"I didn't want to." Her mother was vomiting, and they rolled her to the side. Abby turned away from the window, covering her mouth with her hand.
Luka wrapped his arms around her tenderly, and she didn't protest. She was way too tired not to cry. "I didn't get to say good-bye," she whispered.
He didn't offer any words of reassurance-there were none to offer. "I'm sorry," he said softly, running his hands up and down her back.
The door opened. "Abby?" Kerry said sadly.
Abby pulled away from Luka and turned her full attention to the chief of the ER. Her expression did not look promising. Her mind searched for a question, but none felt appropriate. How is she? Is she going to wake up? Is she in pain? Instead, she just stared, too grief-stricken and exhausted to formulate words.
"She was dehydrated," Kerry told her. "So, we started an IV. And we're giving her fentanyl."
"Fentanyl?" Abby gasped.
Kerry nodded. "The cancer seems to be spreading. We're getting some x-rays and running a couple tests to see how bad it is."
Abby bit her nail-well, finger-hard as the tears streamed down her face. "Oh, sweetie," Kerry said sympathetically, rubbing her arm. Luka's hands remained on her shoulders, a warm, comforting presence.
"Is she going to wake up?" Abby whispered.
"I don't know," Kerry said honestly.
Abby buried her face in her hands. "I didn't get to say good-bye," she choked. "I-I didn't get to tell her."
"Why don't you go get a cup of coffee," Kerry suggested. "Luka, take her to Doc Magoo's."
"No, I want to stay," Abby protested weakly.
"Abby," Kerry ordered. "Take a break. I will page you if anything happens, I promise."
Luka wordlessly led her across the street to the diner they all frequented. He ordered two coffees and they sat down in a corner booth. Abby wrapped her hands around her cup, waiting for the heat to warm her icy palms.
She glanced up at Luka. He was looking at her with great concern, his eyes sad. "I'm sorry," she managed.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," he said softly. "I just wish you'd told me."
"I didn't tell anyone," she mumbled, staring into her black cup of coffee.
"You didn't have to do this alone," Luka continued.
"My brother was here."
"Did he go back to Florida?"
"Afghanistan."
"Pardon?"
"He's in the Air Force," Abby said shakily. "He was shipped out to Afghanistan for the war. He came up to say good-bye."
"Oh, God, Abby," Luka sighed. "I wish you'd let me help you."
"I don't need help," she said firmly. "I just want to go back, and be with my mother." The emotional walls she'd held together for weeks-years-were crumbling fast, crushing her. "She's dying, Luka," she said, tears falling. "She is dying, and there's nothing I can do." She rubbed her eyes hard. "I'm sorry," she choked. "I just, I always thought I could save her. I thought that she'd try to kill herself, and I could come in and save her, and then it would be okay, and now there's not one damn thing I can do." She shook her head disgustedly. "I can't help her. I can't even help myself."
Luka hesitated for a long moment. "Abby," he said finally, touching her hand gently. "I've always wanted to help you."
"Luka, don't," she wept.
He nodded. "I just want you to know that if you ever need anything-if you ever need to talk, or if you need help, anything.I'm always here."
Abby smiled gratefully through her tears. "Thanks," she whispered. The sound of her pager startled her. She checked the number quickly. "Oh, God."
"The ER?" Luka asked, taking money out of his wallet and leaving it on the table. Abby nodded, reminding herself to breathe. It wasn't necessarily bad news. "Okay. Let's go."
"Luka, what if." she trailed off.
"Abby, she probably just woke up," he assured her. "Kerry said she'd page you if anything happened."
Abby nodded, swallowing hard. "Right."
Her feet felt like lead, and Luka practically had to drag her back into the hospital. Kerry was waiting for them at the ambulance bay doors. "She's awake," Kerry said, and Abby released the breath she'd been holding in.
"Is she okay?" Abby managed.
"Why don't we talk in the lounge?" Kerry suggested.
"Abby, I'll be around if you need me," Luka said, as she followed Kerry toward the lounge.
Abby nodded. "Thanks."
The two women stood in the empty room, a nervous silence between them. Finally, Kerry spoke. "Abby, the cancer has spread significantly."
Abby dug her nails into her palms. "How bad?"
"It's metastasized to her lungs, her liver, her heart," Kerry said softly, shaking her head. Abby pinched the bridge of her nose, her head throbbing. "I'm sorry."
"How much time does she have?" Abby whispered, closing her eyes tightly.
Kerry hesitated. "Not long. A few days, a week maybe."
She'd been expecting that. "Can I take her home?"
"Uh, oncology wanted to admit her," Kerry sighed. "She's in a lot of pain, and they can control it better here."
Advil. She needed Advil. Abby rummaged in her bag, searching for the magic bottle. It was quite possible she was becoming addicted to over-the-counter headache relievers. "Can't I do that at home?" she managed, becoming frustrated at her inability to locate the small vial. "Can't we get a PCA, or something? I can run it, I know how to do it, and." Deep breath. Slow, deep breath. She headed for her locker-there had to be Advil in there, or Tylenol, or Excedrin. Something. "I just wanna take her home," she said shakily. "Please, Kerry."
She located a small bottle of Tylenol in her coat pocket and anxiously shook out two. On second thought-three. She could feel Kerry watching her with concern as she swallowed them dry, but she didn't care.
After a long moment, Kerry nodded slowly. "I'll talk to the oncologist."
Abby nodded gratefully, eyes filled with tears. "Thank you," she choked. "Can I-can I see her?"
"Of course," Kerry said. "She's in trauma one still. I'm going to call oncology and see if we can get a PCA, and then I'll try to get an ambulance to take you home."
"Thanks," Abby whispered, managing a weak smile. "Thanks."
She found her mother lying awake on the gurney, an IV stuck in her hand providing pain medication and a nasal cannula in her nose. She tried to muster a smile as she closed the door carefully. "Hi, Mom."
"Abby," her mother said weakly.
"How are you feeling?" Abby asked, pulling a stool up beside the gurney.
"Kinda tired." Maggie brushed a hair out of her eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Abby said, rubbing her arm gently.
"I never meant to hurt you," Maggie said.
"Please don't worry about that," she said. The Advil wasn't helping. "It doesn't matter anymore."
"I didn't want it to be this way," Maggie said desperately.
"It's not your fault," Abby assured her. "I'm not mad at you."
"I wanna go home, Abby," Maggie cried. "I just want to go home."
Abby smiled sadly. "Me too, Mom."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"It is hard to be strong when someone special leaves your life, and it doesn't get any easier with practice." --Javan
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"Do you want something to eat, Mom?" Abby asked, pushing herself into a standing position. They were sitting on her mother's bed, sorting pictures and mementoes. Maggie shook her head. "Why don't you take a nap then? Get some rest, Mom, you look exhausted."
"Abby," Maggie said tiredly, "I have the rest of eternity to get some rest. Right now, I just want to talk to you."
Abby sat back down. She took the box off the bed and set it on the floor. "I'll give some of these to Eric when he gets home," she promised.
"Why did you break up with Luka?" Maggie asked suddenly.
Abby's face paled. "Mom."
"I just wish you felt you could talk to me, Abby," Maggie said, leaning her head back against the pillow. "I wish you knew you could trust me."
Oh, hell. Guilt. It always worked. "It just-it wasn't working anymore, you know?" Abby said, avoiding her mother's eyes.
Maggie nodded skeptically. "Who broke it off?"
"Huh?"
"You or him. Did you dump him?"
Well.Abby sighed. "No," she said softly. "Well, kind of. I guess I kind of was asking for it."
"What do you mean?" Maggie frowned.
"I-well, I always expected him to break up with me, and I guess.I don't know, I guess it was kind of my fault," Abby stammered.
Maggie looked confused. "Pardon?"
There were those tears again. What was wrong with her? "He, um.he said I was always depressed and that I don't know what I want." Maggie nodded, waiting for her to continue. "He complained that I always run to Carter and he.well, he said he didn't know how to help me, and I said I didn't want help."
"Was he right?"
Abby was taken aback. "Right?" she said angrily.
"Well, it just seems to me," Maggie began thoughtfully, "I mean, I haven't been here all that long, and I know this has all been very hard on you, but, Abby, I haven't seen you smile in-in years, maybe."
Abby frowned. "I smile."
Maggie gave her a withering look, and gestured at her face. "Really?"
She sighed. "I haven't had a very easy time of it, Mom," she managed.
"I know," Maggie said sadly. "And I might have-Abby, I know I wasn't a very good mother. You deserved better than me, but-you can't dwell on that your whole life."
"It's not all you," Abby said, shaking her head and looking down at her hands.
Maggie let out a deep breath. "Abby, I think you need to talk to someone. I really do. Because I don't think you want to be unhappy your whole life."
Abby ran a hand through her hair and shrugged. "I don't know."
Not an answer Maggie liked hearing. "What do you mean, you don't know?"
She met her mother's eyes, and the tears slid down her cheeks. "I don't know," Abby repeated, her voice breaking. "Luka's right-I don't know how to be happy. I'm afraid of it. I mean, every time I am happy, or I think I'm happy, I mess it up."
"Oh, Abby," Maggie said sadly.
"If Luka knew me," she continued shakily. "If he really knew me, knew who I was, knew everything, he'd hate me. And I'm so afraid of that," she finished in a whisper.
"He wouldn't hate you," Maggie told her intensely. "You trick yourself into thinking that, Abby. You tell yourself that you have to be unhappy, that for some reason you deserve it." Her mother the mind reader. "You underestimate people, and you underestimate yourself."
She shook her head tearfully. "If I told Luka I had an abortion," she choked. "If he-if he knew.Mom, he loved those kids so much! He'd hate me. And if he knew I was an alcoholic."
"Abby, if you're not honest with yourself, and with him, then you will never be happy," Maggie said, her voice gentler now. "If he hates you because you had an abortion, then, well, he's not the right one for you to be with. He doesn't deserve you then. And if he judges you because ten years ago, you were an alcoholic, you need to find someone who loves you unconditionally. But if he does love you, then something like that won't matter. And you'll never know if you don't try."
Abby stared up at the ceiling, shoulders shaking. "I just get so scared," she managed, her voice thin and weak. "He's a good person, and I'm-I'm not."
"Why, Abby?" Maggie asked, shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head. "Why are you not a good person?" Abby bit her lip, unable to answer. "Sweetheart, you are a wonderful person. You took care of your brother when I didn't. You're a nurse-you help people. You're taking care of me right now-you've always taken care of me. You do deserve the great things in life, Abby, you just have to be willing to accept them."
It would be easier to just nod, and say she would in the future, and hug her mother, but-they weren't going to be having too many more of these conversations, so, "I just can't," Abby sobbed, burying her face in her hands.
"No, you just won't let yourself," Maggie clarified.
"I've never forgiven myself for killing that baby," Abby cried. "How could Luka? How could anyone? If I can't forgive myself, than how could anyone else?"
"Sometimes it's harder to forgive yourself than it is to forgive anyone else," Maggie reminded her. "You are harder on yourself than anyone I've ever met, Abby." She laughed bitterly. "God would give himself more of a break."
"I killed my baby," Abby said. "I killed my baby."
"No," Maggie said firmly. "You made a choice, based on what you thought was best. And everyone regrets some choices. You can't spend the rest of your life beating yourself up over it."
Well-she could. She nodded weakly, trying to push the tears from her eyes.
"Oh, Abby," her mother said, reaching out her arms. Like a little girl, Abby climbed onto the bed and crawled into her mother's embrace, weeping into her mother's pajama top. "You can't hold onto things forever. Sometimes, you just have to let go. You can't keep the pain in your heart forever, because it will eat away at you, Abby." She stroked her hair, holding her tightly. "Sometimes you have to let go."
"Oh, Mom," Abby sobbed, clinging to her mother. "It's just so unfair. I don't want you to die."
"No," Maggie said thoughtfully. "But I'm ready for it. I've come to accept it."
"But I've just started really getting to know you, Mom," she wept, looking at her mother with heartbroken eyes. "I wish I'd." She took a shaky breath. "I wish I'd known you sooner."
"Another thing you can't regret, Abby," Maggie said firmly, smiling sadly. "That's another thing you can't dwell on." She sighed. "Will you talk to Luka? Just talk to him. Please."
Abby nodded. "I love you," she whispered.
"I love you, too," Maggie said, kissing Abby's head tenderly. "I've always loved you."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maggie fell asleep after that conversation, and Abby sat up next to her, holding her hand and watching her chest rise and fall. A little after midnight, it suddenly stopped. Abby carefully disentangled her hand, then reached over to check her mother's pulse.
There was none.
She sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears, then leaned over and gently kissed her mother's cheek. In silence, she turned off the light next to the bed, then went to her own room and, in numb
exhaustion, fell asleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone." --Harriet Beecher Stowe
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Part IV eventually...Please send feedback!!!
Alyssa
AUTHOR: Alyssa
DATE: December 11th, 2001
CATEGORY: Abby angst (as usual :)
SPOILERS: Well...very, very mild spoiler for episode six of season 8...nothing that will ruin your ER enjoyment if you haven't seen the episode already. And spoilers for the end of season seven.
Please review!
With prayers for Jack, Jeremy, and their families. We miss you.
Hearts That Hold: Final Goodbye
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Children begin by loving their parents; after a time they judge
them; rarely, if ever, do they forgive them." --Oscar Wilde
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Mom?" Abby called, pushing open her front door. She shook the rain out of her umbrella in the hallway, brushing excess water droplets off her jacket. Shoving the umbrella into the stand beside the entrance, she peered around the apartment. "Mom?"
"Abby?" her mother said, appearing in front of her. "What are you doing home so early?"
Abby smiled weakly, then offered the lie she'd thought of on the way home. "It was slow, and there weren't a lot of patients, so they sent me home." She didn't mention the part about Weaver catching her having a hysterical break down in the bathroom and ordering her to go home and get some sleep.
Maggie frowned. "You don't have to come home for me, Abby," she sighed. "I'm not dying today!"
"I know," Abby said meekly. "I-don't worry about it." She smiled pleasantly, taking her coat off and hanging it on the rack. "Really raining out there."
"Better than snow," Maggie observed, heading back towards the guest room.
Abby followed her. "What are you doing?" she asked interestedly. The bed was covered with photographs and albums, jewelry and books.
"I was just going through a box of old things I brought with me," Maggie offered, sitting down on one of the only clear spots on the bed. "Pictures and stuff."
Abby picked up a photo and laughed. "Me and Eric," she said, grinning.
"That was Halloween," Maggie chuckled. "You were seven."
"Right after Dad left," Abby sighed. Both their smiles faded.
"Yeah," Maggie said, sounding crushed. She turned back to a photo album that lay open on the pillow.
Abby knelt on the floor and sifted through the pile of mementoes in front of her. A tarnished locket, a beat up copy of The Joy Luck Club, an old, dusty address book. Her eyes landed on a faded photograph. It was of her, at two years old, a huge grin on her face, standing happily between her parents. Her mom was pregnant, and she and her husband both had their arms around Abby.
Abby studied her face. She looked so happy, so carefree. That little girl hadn't worried about mood swings, or how to find food, or cancer. She hadn't envisioned life without Daddy. She hadn't thought about being drunk, or having an abortion. In fact, she carried a doll, meticulously dressed, hair carefully styled: she *wanted* to be a mommy.
Gently, she brushed the dust off the badly colored photo, tracing her fingers along the little girl's face-*her* face. She couldn't get over the smile, the huge, toothy grin that lit up the entire
picture. Both her parents were smiling too, looking-well, *happy.* Loving. Normal.
She alternately envied and pitied the girl. There was a joy about her that Abby couldn't remember ever feeling, and yet, she had no idea what she was about to go through. That little girl had no idea that thirty years later, she'd be miserable, lonely, and watching her mother die.
Abby would give anything to be two-years-old again. To not feel the weight of responsibility and depression on her shoulders. To not feel lonely and unloved. But, with equal passion, she also knew that she'd never, ever do her childhood over again. Because, despite what Maggie said, the bad parts had outweighed the good.
She looked up at her mother, who was digging through a big cardboard box. "Can I keep some of these pictures?"
Maggie shrugged. "You can keep all of them." She glanced up. "Unless Eric wants some of them."
"I'll ask him when he comes home," Abby promised, tucking the thirty-year- old family photograph in her pocket. She raised her eyebrows as Maggie pulled a black leather-bound book out of the box. Her eyes widened. "My diary!"
Her mother laughed. "I didn't know I still had this."
"Did you read it?" Abby asked, staring at the notebook. She'd treated it with incredible care, she recalled, filling it with painstakingly small, neat writing and keeping it in a plastic bag to
prevent the corners from bending.
"No," Maggie assured her. She ran her fingers over the cover. "I wanted to, at one point," she remembered. "After you'd gone to college. I found it, and.well, you were mad at me, and I guess I was mad at you. But I opened it, and on the first page." She opened the book and held it up to Abby. `PRYING EYES NOT WELCOME: READING THIS DAIRY IS PUNISHIBLE BY DEATH!' was scrawled in pink pen on the first cream-colored page. Abby smiled at the childish handwriting, the misspelled words. "Well, I thought I'd better let you keep your secrets," Maggie finished.
Abby nodded, taking the book from her mother. "Thank you," she said.
She paged through the journal as Maggie continued searching through the carton. Without stopping to read, her eyes caught on different things: `Mommy's depressed again, and I don't know what to do.' `Mom didn't come home from work today, and we don't know where she is.
Eric is scared.and so am I.' She didn't notice anything on problems with friends, or school-nothing about boys she liked, or movies she went to, or playing with other girls.
`I hate my mother,' she wrote when she was 14. `I hate when she does this to me. Did she not realize that I would be the one to find her? Did this not occur to her? Does she not realize that I'm the one who has to pick up the pieces? It's just not fair."
"Abby," Maggie said suddenly, urgently. "Can you get me a morphine tablet from the bathroom?"
"Yeah," Abby said, jumping off the bed. "Are you in pain?"
Maggie bit her lip hard, holding her stomach and nodding. Abby ran for the bathroom.
"When was the last time you took one?" she asked, returning in seconds with the bottle of pills and a glass of water.
"Right before you came home," Maggie gasped, tears dripping down her face. Abby was having trouble breathing herself.
"Mom, you're not supposed to take them so close together," Abby said nervously. She scanned the bottle quickly. One every six to eight hours. "How many have you taken today?"
"Four," her mother managed, curling up into a ball.
Abby looked at her watch. It was only 3:30. "Mom, you can't take another one now, you just can't."
"I can't breathe," Maggie whispered, coughing hard.
Abby eased her mother onto the floor and held her tightly. Oh, God. Oh, God. "Okay, Mom, it's going to be okay," she said soothingly, hoping- praying-this wave of pain would pass. "Okay, Mom."
She thought fast, but came up with no ideas. If this were a patient, what would I do? she asked herself.
She didn't know.
"Okay, Mom," she said again. Her mother's eyes were closed, her breathing labored. "Mom?" She shook her hard, but Maggie didn't stir. "Mom!"
Get her to the hospital, her mind told her. Call 911. She lunged for the phone.
Ten minutes later, they were in an ambulance, speeding toward County General. Abby clutched her mother's hand and tried not to think as they raced towards the hospital.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Hope is the feeling you have that the feeling you have isn't permanent." -- Jean Kerr
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The ambulance doors flew open, revealing Luka and Kerry. The paramedic, someone Abby didn't know, gave the bullet. "56-year-old woman with end- stage pancreatic cancer, collapsed at home. Pulse ox is 98 on 20% oxygen, BP is 100/70, pulse 110."
"Abby?" Luka and Kerry gasped simultaneously.
Kerry turned to look at the patient on the gurney, recognition registering on her face. "Let's go to trauma one!" she ordered. "Abby, what happened?" she asked calmly as they pushed the stretcher toward the hospital.
"She said she was in pain," Abby answered, voice cracking. "She just passed out."
"She has pancreatic cancer?" Kerry clarified. Abby nodded weakly. "When was she diagnosed?"
"A month ago," Abby managed as they walked through the trauma room doors.
"Abby, we got this from here," Kerry assured her. Abby stood numbly in the middle of the room, watching Chuny start an IV. "Abby." Her voice was gentle, but Abby couldn't move. "Luka, take her out," Kerry ordered.
"Come on," Luka said softly, taking her by the arm. "Let's go outside."
Abby allowed him to drag her out of the room, never taking her eyes off her mother. Luka closed the doors behind him, and the two stood in the hall, watching the activity in the trauma room through the windows.
"How long has she been living with you?" Luka asked quietly.
"Three weeks," Abby whispered. The nurses and doctors were bustling around her mother, running tests and checking vital signs. Carter appeared in the room, his eyes widening when he saw the patient. He looked at Abby through the window, face communicating sympathy, then
turned back to help.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he continued gently, his strong hands rubbing her back.
"I didn't want to." Her mother was vomiting, and they rolled her to the side. Abby turned away from the window, covering her mouth with her hand.
Luka wrapped his arms around her tenderly, and she didn't protest. She was way too tired not to cry. "I didn't get to say good-bye," she whispered.
He didn't offer any words of reassurance-there were none to offer. "I'm sorry," he said softly, running his hands up and down her back.
The door opened. "Abby?" Kerry said sadly.
Abby pulled away from Luka and turned her full attention to the chief of the ER. Her expression did not look promising. Her mind searched for a question, but none felt appropriate. How is she? Is she going to wake up? Is she in pain? Instead, she just stared, too grief-stricken and exhausted to formulate words.
"She was dehydrated," Kerry told her. "So, we started an IV. And we're giving her fentanyl."
"Fentanyl?" Abby gasped.
Kerry nodded. "The cancer seems to be spreading. We're getting some x-rays and running a couple tests to see how bad it is."
Abby bit her nail-well, finger-hard as the tears streamed down her face. "Oh, sweetie," Kerry said sympathetically, rubbing her arm. Luka's hands remained on her shoulders, a warm, comforting presence.
"Is she going to wake up?" Abby whispered.
"I don't know," Kerry said honestly.
Abby buried her face in her hands. "I didn't get to say good-bye," she choked. "I-I didn't get to tell her."
"Why don't you go get a cup of coffee," Kerry suggested. "Luka, take her to Doc Magoo's."
"No, I want to stay," Abby protested weakly.
"Abby," Kerry ordered. "Take a break. I will page you if anything happens, I promise."
Luka wordlessly led her across the street to the diner they all frequented. He ordered two coffees and they sat down in a corner booth. Abby wrapped her hands around her cup, waiting for the heat to warm her icy palms.
She glanced up at Luka. He was looking at her with great concern, his eyes sad. "I'm sorry," she managed.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," he said softly. "I just wish you'd told me."
"I didn't tell anyone," she mumbled, staring into her black cup of coffee.
"You didn't have to do this alone," Luka continued.
"My brother was here."
"Did he go back to Florida?"
"Afghanistan."
"Pardon?"
"He's in the Air Force," Abby said shakily. "He was shipped out to Afghanistan for the war. He came up to say good-bye."
"Oh, God, Abby," Luka sighed. "I wish you'd let me help you."
"I don't need help," she said firmly. "I just want to go back, and be with my mother." The emotional walls she'd held together for weeks-years-were crumbling fast, crushing her. "She's dying, Luka," she said, tears falling. "She is dying, and there's nothing I can do." She rubbed her eyes hard. "I'm sorry," she choked. "I just, I always thought I could save her. I thought that she'd try to kill herself, and I could come in and save her, and then it would be okay, and now there's not one damn thing I can do." She shook her head disgustedly. "I can't help her. I can't even help myself."
Luka hesitated for a long moment. "Abby," he said finally, touching her hand gently. "I've always wanted to help you."
"Luka, don't," she wept.
He nodded. "I just want you to know that if you ever need anything-if you ever need to talk, or if you need help, anything.I'm always here."
Abby smiled gratefully through her tears. "Thanks," she whispered. The sound of her pager startled her. She checked the number quickly. "Oh, God."
"The ER?" Luka asked, taking money out of his wallet and leaving it on the table. Abby nodded, reminding herself to breathe. It wasn't necessarily bad news. "Okay. Let's go."
"Luka, what if." she trailed off.
"Abby, she probably just woke up," he assured her. "Kerry said she'd page you if anything happened."
Abby nodded, swallowing hard. "Right."
Her feet felt like lead, and Luka practically had to drag her back into the hospital. Kerry was waiting for them at the ambulance bay doors. "She's awake," Kerry said, and Abby released the breath she'd been holding in.
"Is she okay?" Abby managed.
"Why don't we talk in the lounge?" Kerry suggested.
"Abby, I'll be around if you need me," Luka said, as she followed Kerry toward the lounge.
Abby nodded. "Thanks."
The two women stood in the empty room, a nervous silence between them. Finally, Kerry spoke. "Abby, the cancer has spread significantly."
Abby dug her nails into her palms. "How bad?"
"It's metastasized to her lungs, her liver, her heart," Kerry said softly, shaking her head. Abby pinched the bridge of her nose, her head throbbing. "I'm sorry."
"How much time does she have?" Abby whispered, closing her eyes tightly.
Kerry hesitated. "Not long. A few days, a week maybe."
She'd been expecting that. "Can I take her home?"
"Uh, oncology wanted to admit her," Kerry sighed. "She's in a lot of pain, and they can control it better here."
Advil. She needed Advil. Abby rummaged in her bag, searching for the magic bottle. It was quite possible she was becoming addicted to over-the-counter headache relievers. "Can't I do that at home?" she managed, becoming frustrated at her inability to locate the small vial. "Can't we get a PCA, or something? I can run it, I know how to do it, and." Deep breath. Slow, deep breath. She headed for her locker-there had to be Advil in there, or Tylenol, or Excedrin. Something. "I just wanna take her home," she said shakily. "Please, Kerry."
She located a small bottle of Tylenol in her coat pocket and anxiously shook out two. On second thought-three. She could feel Kerry watching her with concern as she swallowed them dry, but she didn't care.
After a long moment, Kerry nodded slowly. "I'll talk to the oncologist."
Abby nodded gratefully, eyes filled with tears. "Thank you," she choked. "Can I-can I see her?"
"Of course," Kerry said. "She's in trauma one still. I'm going to call oncology and see if we can get a PCA, and then I'll try to get an ambulance to take you home."
"Thanks," Abby whispered, managing a weak smile. "Thanks."
She found her mother lying awake on the gurney, an IV stuck in her hand providing pain medication and a nasal cannula in her nose. She tried to muster a smile as she closed the door carefully. "Hi, Mom."
"Abby," her mother said weakly.
"How are you feeling?" Abby asked, pulling a stool up beside the gurney.
"Kinda tired." Maggie brushed a hair out of her eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Abby said, rubbing her arm gently.
"I never meant to hurt you," Maggie said.
"Please don't worry about that," she said. The Advil wasn't helping. "It doesn't matter anymore."
"I didn't want it to be this way," Maggie said desperately.
"It's not your fault," Abby assured her. "I'm not mad at you."
"I wanna go home, Abby," Maggie cried. "I just want to go home."
Abby smiled sadly. "Me too, Mom."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"It is hard to be strong when someone special leaves your life, and it doesn't get any easier with practice." --Javan
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Do you want something to eat, Mom?" Abby asked, pushing herself into a standing position. They were sitting on her mother's bed, sorting pictures and mementoes. Maggie shook her head. "Why don't you take a nap then? Get some rest, Mom, you look exhausted."
"Abby," Maggie said tiredly, "I have the rest of eternity to get some rest. Right now, I just want to talk to you."
Abby sat back down. She took the box off the bed and set it on the floor. "I'll give some of these to Eric when he gets home," she promised.
"Why did you break up with Luka?" Maggie asked suddenly.
Abby's face paled. "Mom."
"I just wish you felt you could talk to me, Abby," Maggie said, leaning her head back against the pillow. "I wish you knew you could trust me."
Oh, hell. Guilt. It always worked. "It just-it wasn't working anymore, you know?" Abby said, avoiding her mother's eyes.
Maggie nodded skeptically. "Who broke it off?"
"Huh?"
"You or him. Did you dump him?"
Well.Abby sighed. "No," she said softly. "Well, kind of. I guess I kind of was asking for it."
"What do you mean?" Maggie frowned.
"I-well, I always expected him to break up with me, and I guess.I don't know, I guess it was kind of my fault," Abby stammered.
Maggie looked confused. "Pardon?"
There were those tears again. What was wrong with her? "He, um.he said I was always depressed and that I don't know what I want." Maggie nodded, waiting for her to continue. "He complained that I always run to Carter and he.well, he said he didn't know how to help me, and I said I didn't want help."
"Was he right?"
Abby was taken aback. "Right?" she said angrily.
"Well, it just seems to me," Maggie began thoughtfully, "I mean, I haven't been here all that long, and I know this has all been very hard on you, but, Abby, I haven't seen you smile in-in years, maybe."
Abby frowned. "I smile."
Maggie gave her a withering look, and gestured at her face. "Really?"
She sighed. "I haven't had a very easy time of it, Mom," she managed.
"I know," Maggie said sadly. "And I might have-Abby, I know I wasn't a very good mother. You deserved better than me, but-you can't dwell on that your whole life."
"It's not all you," Abby said, shaking her head and looking down at her hands.
Maggie let out a deep breath. "Abby, I think you need to talk to someone. I really do. Because I don't think you want to be unhappy your whole life."
Abby ran a hand through her hair and shrugged. "I don't know."
Not an answer Maggie liked hearing. "What do you mean, you don't know?"
She met her mother's eyes, and the tears slid down her cheeks. "I don't know," Abby repeated, her voice breaking. "Luka's right-I don't know how to be happy. I'm afraid of it. I mean, every time I am happy, or I think I'm happy, I mess it up."
"Oh, Abby," Maggie said sadly.
"If Luka knew me," she continued shakily. "If he really knew me, knew who I was, knew everything, he'd hate me. And I'm so afraid of that," she finished in a whisper.
"He wouldn't hate you," Maggie told her intensely. "You trick yourself into thinking that, Abby. You tell yourself that you have to be unhappy, that for some reason you deserve it." Her mother the mind reader. "You underestimate people, and you underestimate yourself."
She shook her head tearfully. "If I told Luka I had an abortion," she choked. "If he-if he knew.Mom, he loved those kids so much! He'd hate me. And if he knew I was an alcoholic."
"Abby, if you're not honest with yourself, and with him, then you will never be happy," Maggie said, her voice gentler now. "If he hates you because you had an abortion, then, well, he's not the right one for you to be with. He doesn't deserve you then. And if he judges you because ten years ago, you were an alcoholic, you need to find someone who loves you unconditionally. But if he does love you, then something like that won't matter. And you'll never know if you don't try."
Abby stared up at the ceiling, shoulders shaking. "I just get so scared," she managed, her voice thin and weak. "He's a good person, and I'm-I'm not."
"Why, Abby?" Maggie asked, shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head. "Why are you not a good person?" Abby bit her lip, unable to answer. "Sweetheart, you are a wonderful person. You took care of your brother when I didn't. You're a nurse-you help people. You're taking care of me right now-you've always taken care of me. You do deserve the great things in life, Abby, you just have to be willing to accept them."
It would be easier to just nod, and say she would in the future, and hug her mother, but-they weren't going to be having too many more of these conversations, so, "I just can't," Abby sobbed, burying her face in her hands.
"No, you just won't let yourself," Maggie clarified.
"I've never forgiven myself for killing that baby," Abby cried. "How could Luka? How could anyone? If I can't forgive myself, than how could anyone else?"
"Sometimes it's harder to forgive yourself than it is to forgive anyone else," Maggie reminded her. "You are harder on yourself than anyone I've ever met, Abby." She laughed bitterly. "God would give himself more of a break."
"I killed my baby," Abby said. "I killed my baby."
"No," Maggie said firmly. "You made a choice, based on what you thought was best. And everyone regrets some choices. You can't spend the rest of your life beating yourself up over it."
Well-she could. She nodded weakly, trying to push the tears from her eyes.
"Oh, Abby," her mother said, reaching out her arms. Like a little girl, Abby climbed onto the bed and crawled into her mother's embrace, weeping into her mother's pajama top. "You can't hold onto things forever. Sometimes, you just have to let go. You can't keep the pain in your heart forever, because it will eat away at you, Abby." She stroked her hair, holding her tightly. "Sometimes you have to let go."
"Oh, Mom," Abby sobbed, clinging to her mother. "It's just so unfair. I don't want you to die."
"No," Maggie said thoughtfully. "But I'm ready for it. I've come to accept it."
"But I've just started really getting to know you, Mom," she wept, looking at her mother with heartbroken eyes. "I wish I'd." She took a shaky breath. "I wish I'd known you sooner."
"Another thing you can't regret, Abby," Maggie said firmly, smiling sadly. "That's another thing you can't dwell on." She sighed. "Will you talk to Luka? Just talk to him. Please."
Abby nodded. "I love you," she whispered.
"I love you, too," Maggie said, kissing Abby's head tenderly. "I've always loved you."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maggie fell asleep after that conversation, and Abby sat up next to her, holding her hand and watching her chest rise and fall. A little after midnight, it suddenly stopped. Abby carefully disentangled her hand, then reached over to check her mother's pulse.
There was none.
She sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears, then leaned over and gently kissed her mother's cheek. In silence, she turned off the light next to the bed, then went to her own room and, in numb
exhaustion, fell asleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone." --Harriet Beecher Stowe
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Part IV eventually...Please send feedback!!!
Alyssa
