CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ONE MONTH LATER (FRIDAY)
Our world came crashing down today. Jo was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She'd been feeling sick for the last six weeks or so. She thought it was just pregnancy related nausea until she started bleeding. Last week, Thursday, I think, it was so bad, she thought she was losing the twins. I woke up to Jo screaming in the bathroom, doubled in pain at around 2 in the morning. "Sam, help me!" I rush into the room, "What's wrong?" "I'm losing the twins! I gotta go to the hospital." I help her to the car and we rush to the hospital. She was crying in pain the whole time. I pull up to the door and rush into the ER. "My wife, she's in the car, pain. Think she's having a miscarriage. Help!" A team of nurses rushes to the car with a gurney. They put her on it and race into the ER. I park the car and run into the waiting room.
After the doctor stablizes Jo, Dr. James admits her to the hospital. "Mr. McGuire, Jo's not losing the babies." "Well then," I ask, "what's wrong with my wife?" "She's lost a lot of blood, and we're admitting her for tests and observation." "What about Marin? Jo's breastfeeding her." "If you want, we can get Jo a pump, or there are some good formulas I can recommend. She can feed the baby tonight, if she wants." "So," I ask again, "what's wrong with her?" "When I was examining her, I found a mass. I don't know what it is, so I want to run some tests. She's sleeping now, so we'll run them in the morning." "Thanks, doctor." I entered Jo's room. She was sleeping peacefully. I called Matt and let him know what was going on. I kissed Jo on the forehead and she woke up. "Sam," she asked groggily, "wha, what's? Are the babies all right?" "They're fine." "What's wrong with me?" "I don't know. Dr. James is going to run some tests in the morning. How are you feeling?" "Like I got run over by a train. I need Marin. It's time for her feeding." "I'm going to go get her now. Just rest now. I'll be back soon. I love you, honey." Jo closes her eyes and drifts back to sleep. I feel like I've been ripped to shreds.
Matt's waiting for me when I get home. "Dad, is mom okay?" "I don't know, son." He looks worried and afraid. "Matt, if you don't want to go to school tomorrow, I'll write you a note." "Thanks, but that's okay. I've got a test tomorrow anyway." Marin starts crying. I enter her room, "Hey sweetheart. Are you hungry?" I pick her up and get her changed. Matt comes in with a bottle of water, "Here dad." "Thanks." I feed Marin her bottle while Matt gets her things together. I bundle the baby up, say goodbye to Matt, and head back to the hospital.
Dr. James came into Jo's room around 8 in the morning. "Mrs. McGuire, how are you feeling today?" "Tired." "I need to get a biopsy and a CAT scan this morning. If you're feeling better, you can go home this afternoon." "Will it hurt the babies?" "No, we'll use some lidocaine so the needle won't hurt. CAT scans don't use much radiation, so there won't be any significant exposure there. First of all, I'll need you to drink this coctail." Jo takes a sip and gags. "I know, it's gross, but I'm sorry. Drink it slowly." Jo nods and takes another sip. "Are you ready?" Jo shakes her head and throws up on the bed. "I'm sorry," she shuddered. "It's okay, sweetie," I smooth her hair back from her face, "we'll get you cleaned up." I help her to the bathroom while the nurses change her sheet. "Sam, I don't know if I can drink the stuff." "We'll talk to the doctor. Don't worry." She changes into a clean gown and I walk her back to her bed. Dr. James comes back into the room. "Mrs. McGuire, we can give you an IV instead of the coctail. I'll be right back." A nurse administers the IV, "Here's some water. Dr. James said we can use the water for the contrast CAT scan." Jo drinks the water. "I'll be back in half an hour to get you." Jo nods.
"Sam, I'm worried." "About what, honey?" "I'm worried that something's wrong." I sit on the bed and wrap my arms around her, "Jo, I don't know if anything's wrong, but if there is, we'll get through this together." Marin starts crying. "Sam, pass me the baby. She needs to be fed." I pass the baby and a bottle to Jo. Marin cries harder and refuses the bottle. "I want to breastfeed her so badly." "I know, but let's wait until the doctor gives us the okay. Pass her to me. I'll try." She passes me the baby. "Hey, kiddo, it's breakfast time." I stroke her cheek and she accepts the bottle. While I'm feeding Marin, the nurse walks in. "Are you ready?" the nurse asks. Jo nods, and the nurse helps her into the wheelchair.
The CAT scan and biopsy take about 2 hours. Marin and I are asleep when Jo returns from her tests. The nurse helps her into bed. "How are you feeling?" I ask her. She closes her eyes, "Like I could throw up buckets." She promptly throws up. The nurse and I clean her up. "I'm thirsty," she whispers. "Could she have some ginger ale or something?" I ask the nurse. She nods and returns with a can, cup and straw. "The doctor will stop by in a few minutes." "Thanks," I reply. Jo sips her drink. "How's Marin?" she asks. "She's fine; she's been sleeping. Speaking of sleep, why don't you try and get some sleep?" She nods and drifts off.
The doctor stops by an hour later and tells us that she did find a large mass. "What do you think it is?" I ask. "I don't want to guess, but it doesn't look good. I'm sorry." Jo and I sit in stunned silence. The doctor continues, "The results will be back next Friday. Let's set you up an appointment." We nod. "I'll stop by in another hour. If you're feeling better by then, you can go home." "When can I breastfeed Marin again?" "Wait about 2 days, so the contrast dye will work out of your system. I'll give you some formula to tide you over."
It was a hard 10 days. We hoped for the best, but feared the worst. The worst happened. Jo's appointment with Dr. James was this morning. After the doctor examined Jo, she led us into her office. I had a feeling this was not good news. "Your test results came back," the doctor begins, "and I'm sorry, it's ovarian cancer." I sat in shock and Jo began crying, but not saying anything. I felt like I was frozen to my seat. The doctor continues, "It's Stage IIIC, which means that the cancer has spread to your abdomen and has entered your lymphatic system. We have two choices, deliver the babies early and begin chemotherapy or wait until the babies are born and start treatment after their birth." Jo reaches for my hand, "Are, are you sure?" "The CAT scan indicates that it's in your right ovary, in your abdominal cavity, and in the surrounding lymph nodes." "What do you recommend?" I ask. "Mrs. McGuire, I'd like to admit you to the hospital Monday to remove the ovary and lymph nodes. There's some risk of losing the babies, but I'll do my best." Jo nods and takes a breath, "What are my chances? I mean, what are my chances of beating this?" "I don't like to give out odds, but I will be honest with you. It's going to be a hard fight. I've seen people come back and beat it, so it's not impossible." Dr. James pauses to let us take the information in. "I want to see you for monthly ultrasounds so I can keep a check on the cancer. If I were you, I would wait until the babies are born to start chemotherapy. I don't want to take the babies early." Jo nodded. She's such a strong woman. I just sat there in silence, not really hearing what the doctor said.
We left the office and drove home in silence. Neither of us wanted to speak. First, I lost my oldest daughter, and now I might lose my wife. It's more than I can bear right now. We sat on the couch, held each other, and cried until Matt came home from school. We decided to go ahead and tell him. "Matt, your mom and I need to talk to you. Can you come into the living room?" "What's wrong?" "Your mother's tests came in today." "Mom, are you okay?" Jo closes her eyes, shakes her head, and I continue, "Matt, your mother has ovarian cancer." Tears well up in his eyes. Jo reaches to stroke his head and he pulls away. "Mom? Are you going to die?" "I'm going to do my best not to." "What did the doctor say exactly?" "The cancer has spread to my lymph nodes and abdomen. I'm having surgery on Monday." "What about the twins? Will they be okay?" "Dr. James is going to do her best, but there are no guarantees." Matt begins crying and hugs Jo, "Lizzie's gone. I can't lose you or the twins, mom!" She cradles him, "Oh baby, if I have anything to say about it, I'm not going anywhere." "Will you have to do chemotherapy?" "After the babies are born." The three of us hold each other, it seems, for an eternity.
It's late and Jo and I lay in bed. Neither of us can speak. Instead, I hold her while she cries. "Sam, I'm scared," she cries, "What's gonna happen to me?" "I don't know, but we'll do the best we can to get you well." Jo turns and looks at me, "If anything happens to me..." "Jo, don't talk like that." "No, Sam, I have to. If I lose this battle, I want to know that you and the kids will be okay." "We will be." "I'm worried about Matt. Lizzie has been gone for just a little over a year, Marin is eight months old, we're having twins, and now this. I don't know how much more he can take. He seems so fragile." I hold her and we eventually fall asleep.