CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ONE YEAR LATER----FOUR YEARS SINCE----Matt's in 10th grade; Lizzie would have been a freshman in college
It's been four years since Lizzie left us. Matt's in 10th grade, but he's scheduled to graduate next year. He, Melina and Lanny took classes last summer, and extra classes last year and this year so they could get out a year early. He and Melina have been dating for the last year, but they've been close since they were little. I imagine Gordo and Lizzie would have paired up in high school if she had been alive; they were beginning to go out when they returned from Rome. I wonder if Matt and Melina will be together after they graduate? Unfortunately, I'm a little worried about Matt. Although he's a good student (he sure turned things around in Middle School) and he's good with his brother and sisters, he's different. He's moody and sullen, and he, Melina, and Lanny sometimes smell like smoke when they're together. Jo and I have asked him if he's doing drugs, but he denies it. He admits they smoke cigarettes, but I don't believe him. I think it's more. We've tried talking to him, but he refuses to talk. I wonder if this is the result of all the changes that have gone on these past four years? I wish he would talk to someone. I don't think he feels comfortable talking to Jo anymore; I don't think he's wanted to burden her. Although Jo's had cancer for three years, I think Matt's been afraid that if he tells her about his stresses, it might be too much for her. He hasn't talked to me in ages. I worry about the kid.
Jo had another appointment with Dr. Hall today. The doctor talked to us in his office; we were afraid it was a bad sign. She has been doing so well. The tumors have been shrinking this last year. The ones on her side are gone, and the main one in her abdomen is half the size it was a year ago, according to his report three months ago. She was able to reduce her chemo in half six months ago; the three hour doses were cut to once every other week and the 24 hour doses every other month. She had her most recent 24 hour dose last week. We walked into Dr. Hall's office hand in hand. The doctor began, "Mrs. McGuire, I'm pleased to report that your most recent tests indicate that the tumors are gone." Our jaws drop. He continues, "You're in remission, congratulations." Jo and I embrace, unable to speak. "I want to do another two months of chemo, and if you're still in remission, we can discontinue treatment and just have you come in for quarterly checkups." We shook his hand and walked out of the office hand in hand.
We got to the elevator and I pulled her into a deep embrace. "Oh, thank you Jesus!" I choke out, tears welling up in my eyes. Jo begins crying too, "Sam, I can't believe it!" "Me either. I've been so worried that I'd lose you." She puts her hand on my cheek, "I know." The elevator arrives, and we step in, hand in hand. I love this woman.
Jo and I stop by the cemetary to visit Lizzie for awhile. We fill her in on recent events. Even though we don't know if she can hear us, it helps us keep a connection with her. I look at Jo and notice she's wearing the necklace she found in Lizzie's room when we were cleaning it up. It's the red piece of plastic Lizzie gave her when they were throwing pots. Jo gave it back to her and told her to give it back when she was ready to be friends again. Jo has the note framed with a picture of Lizzie and her inside by her night stand in our bedroom. She notices me looking at the necklace. "It's helped me keep focused on getting well. I feel really connected to her when I wear it. I do wonder if she's had a hand in me getting better." "I'd like to think so." We sit in silence for awhile. I look at my wife. Although she's thin from two and a half years of constant chemo, she looks absolutely beautiful. Suddenly, she laughs (I think she was feeling self-conscious), "What, Sam?" "Have I ever told you how wonderful and beautiful you are?" She blushes. "Jo, I was so afraid that I'd be visiting you here too. I was afraid you wouldn't make it." "Oh, Sam," she takes my hands in hers. "It's bad enough we have to visit our oldest daughter here, but if I had to visit both of you..." "I'm not going anywhere. Dr. Hall said I'm fine." "That sounds so good," I smile. "It does, doesn't it?"
Matt was home watching TV when we got home. "How are the kids?" I ask. "They're asleep. Marin's been down for a couple hours and the twins for an hour." "Sam, I'm going to go check on the kids; I'll be right back." As she goes upstairs, Matt looks at me puzzled, "Is mom okay? What did the doctor say?" "She wants to tell you herself." Matt looks concerned, "She's not gonna die, is she?" "No, she's not."
Jo comes back downstairs with Marin, who is in between being asleep and being awake. "Jo, let me take her." She passes her to me and the four of us sit on the couch. "Mom, what's going on?" Matt asks concerned. "The doctor said that I'm in remission. The tumors are gone!" she grins from ear to ear. Matt's eyes brighten, "You mean, the cancer's gone?" "Yes!" she nods. "So, you're not gonna die?" "No, I'm not." Matt hugs his mother. It's the first time in a long time.