Love is bigger than anything in its way
"The door is open to go through
If I could I would come, too
But the path is made by you
(...)
Oh, if I could hear myself when I say
(Oh love) love is bigger than anything in its way
So young to be the words of your own song
I know the rage in you is strong
Write a world where we can belong
To each other and sing it like no other
Oh, if I could hear myself when I say
(Oh love) love is bigger than anything in its way
(...)
If you listen you can hear the silence say
"When you think you're done
You've just begun"
- Hi, you're new here, aren't you?
Anna looked up to the red-haired woman who had just accosted her at the coffee machine.
- Er, yes… My daughter's been here for four days now. Started her chemo yesterday.
- Hi, I'm Ethel Parks, said the other woman, offering Anna a smile and her hand to shake.
- Anna Bates, replied Anna. Nice to meet you. Although I would've preferred to meet you somewhere else.
- Yeah. Welcome to ChemoLand…, ironized the other woman. So much fun in here.
- You've been here long?, asked Anna.
- Two bloody months, with my boy, Charlie.
- Wow, two months? But they told us the chemo only lasted six weeks.
- Yeah, except when the kid catches pneumonia because he's got no immunity left, and you've got to stop the chemo for three weeks, time to give him super-strong antibiotics, and then wait until he's well enough to start again…
- Oh, my God. Sorry for you and your boy.
- Well. Anyway, now we should be done in three days, and we'll finally head home. I can't stand that place anymore. I've slept, or rather not slept, in that bloody camp bed for much too many nights.
- Didn't you split the time with his father?
- I'm a single mum.
- Oh. Sorry.
- No problem. Anyway, if you've got questions, or you want a chat, come see me! Until I'm out of here I mean…
- That's nice. How did you know I was new here? asked Anna.
- Well, when you've been here for two months, you start knowing the faces hanging around… Those who leave, those who arrive. I knew I had not seen you yet. And you look stiff and uneasy. You'll see, after a few weeks, you'll move around as if you belong.
- That's rather the last of places I'd like to belong to…
- I know, but still, when you see the same nurses and doctors, and other kids and families for two months, you start to bond.
- I guess…
A short silence passed, as Ethel drained the last of her coffee and dropped the cup in the bin.
- Anyway, she concluded. It was nice meeting you Anna. If you're looking for me, we're in room 12.
- OK, thank you. Nice talking to you too. We're in 8.
- Hey, you didn't tell me your daughter's name?
- Er, yeah, it's Joanna. She's twenty-one months old. How old is Charlie?
- Four. See you later?
- Yeah, sure. Bye.
Anna looked at Ethel's back as she walked towards her son's room. She felt impressed at how the red-haired woman looked at ease moving around this place that still felt foreign and frightening to her. Would she herself one day feel like she "belonged", as Ethel had put it? The thought sent shivers down her spine. Even if all the caring staff was very kind in here, all Anna could think about was to get out of here as quick as possible… She went back to Joanna's room and met John, who was trying to get the baby to eat some yogurt. Joanna's appetite was still not how it used to be.
- You OK, darling? asked John.
- Yeah. I met another mum at the machine. Ethel. We talked a bit. She seems nice. She's been here for two months with her boy.
- Two months, oh Lord. Poor her.
- Yeah. She told me they should be leaving soon though.
John offered one more spoonful of yogurt to Joanna, pointing:
- She almost ate it all.
- Good. I've been thinking…, continued Anna.
- Yes?
- About her hair. You know, what Dr Jawad said about cutting it short before it fell?
- You wanna do this?
Anna sighed.
- I don't feel like I can wait until we'll pick them up by handfuls each time we pass a comb through them… I think, yes, that I'd prefer cutting them short neatly now. I feel it would be less painful somehow.
- You want to do it yourself?
- I could, yeah.
x x x x
Four days had passed, and Joanna now had a military-style haircut, as John had pointed out, reminding Anna of how he had worn his hair before he quit the Army. When Joanna had put her hand on her almost bald skull, a questioning look on her face, as if asking her parents where her hair had suddenly gone, they had showed her some old pictures of John in his Army uniform, and pointed out:
- See, short hair, like Daddy! The same!
- Daddy!, had exclaimed the little girl, pointing at the picture, then to her head.
As John and Anna walked her through the unit hallway in the afternoon, in between two chemo drips, they came across Ethel gathering her and Charlie's luggage at the door of his room.
- Oh, Ethel, hi! beamed Anna. So, are you on your way out?
- Yes! exclaimed Ethel. We got the myelogram's result this morning, Charlie's in remission. Home sweet home, at last!
- Oh, I'm so glad for you!
Anna gave Ethel a hug, and patted Charlie's cheek. The boy was wearing a large cap on his bald head.
- Happy to go home, Charlie?
- Yes. I wanna see Newton!
Anna sent a questioning look to Ethel.
- Newton's his guinea pig, she explained.
- Oh, right, laughed Anna. I bet he has missed you so much! Do you need help with all this?, she went on, gesturing to their luggage. We can help you get it downstairs if you'd like?
- No, thank you, it's OK, I'm waiting for my father, he's coming to pick us up and drive us home.
- Alright.
- You give me news on Whatsapp, hey Anna, said Ethel, nudging her on her elbow.
- Yes, sure.
- And we'll be back in three weeks for the consolidation… Although one day a week will be a fair improvement from now.
- Yeah, of course. I'm heading home too, tonight. We've decided to split three days each from now on.
- Good for you. I would've liked to have someone to split with… So. Good luck to you!
- Yes, you too. Enjoy your going back home.
As they continued strolling slowly down the hallway with Joanna, John pointed:
- My God, she's a hero, that woman. It's hard enough handling this between the two of us, I don't know how on earth one could manage it alone…
- Yeah. I don't know how she copes. But then, she doesn't really have a choice…
- How did she even do with her work?
- She told me: she had lived with her parents since before Charlie got ill, because she couldn't afford a rent on her part-time waiting job. So she quit. She says she'll take another job when Charlie's healed. Meanwhile her parents are OK with maintaining them.
- OK… Well lucky she's got her parents. I really don't see how one could handle that, and a job. Apart from leaving your child alone in the hospital.
- Well I think some parents have to, sometimes. When you don't have a choice…
- We're lucky we both have flexible jobs…
x x x x
In her silent home, Anna wiped out a lone tear as she laid down a few strands of curly blond hair in a pretty little wooden box. She had had this box for years, bought one day as a holiday souvenir, and had never put anything in it. Now it was the urn of her daughter's late golden locks. She sighed and put the box on a shelf in Joanna's empty bedroom. As she turned away, her phone beeped. She glanced at the Whatsapp notification, and smiled at the picture Ethel had sent her. Charlie was holding Newton the guinea pig to his chest, widely smiling.
"First cuddle in two months! So happy to be home!"
She didn't feel jealous at Ethel's joy. She had been through hell like Anna was presently, and likely it was not over. She deserved that happiness. It made Anna confident that their turn would come too, to share that kind of moments. Right now, Anna wandered for a while in her empty house, not knowing what to do with herself. Nothing felt right in the absence of John and Joanna. She didn't like her bed empty, she didn't like to sit on her couch without John's warm frame to cuddle in. She didn't like the absence of Joanna's laughs and cries. Reasoning that she should try and make the best of being alone, she drew herself a bath, but found that she couldn't enjoy it. Then she settled in the couch and launched her favourite TV show, but she couldn't focus on it either. So she went to bed in the end, feeling cold and lonely. Before trying to sleep, she sent some texts to John:
"Everything OK out there?"
"Yes, no problem. Jo's asleep."
"OK. Miss you. And her"
"We miss you too. Love you. Try to sleep in that comfy bed."
John added a winking emoji.
"I'll try. But I don't think I can sleep well without you next to me."
"Yeah. Me neither."
"Love you xxx"
John only replied with a heart emoji. Anna sighed and put her phone back onto its charger, and put down the light.
Anna slept quite poorly but she still welcomed going back to work the next day. Being out of the hospital confines and seeing her usual workmates felt good. Mary had been very kind as always, and had crafted a light schedule for her. As they had both foreseen, she had some difficulties focusing. The hardest part was to take seriously the clients' sometimes silly demands, and not biting back to them that there really were more important matters in the world than the colour of the icing on some stupid cupcakes, like her daughter's leukaemia for instance. She knew it was inappropriate for her to take her stress out on her clients, and she managed to keep her annoyance to herself. In truth she longed for the days back when such futile things had seemed important to her too.
x x x x
Weeks passed, and at the end of August, Joanna was cleared for home release. The bone marrow sample showed no sign of disease anymore. John and Anna rejoiced at the news. Even though Joanna had not suffered any intercurrent infection that delayed the treatment like Charlie had, the six weeks long chemo had been horrendous. Joanna had kept vomiting her food over and over again, reminding her parents of the darkest days of John's hospital stay a few years back. When that finally stopped, the little girl's mouth became so inflamed that she couldn't bear any food touching it. So the doctor had to order her to be fed via the IV, and the baby had not been able to eat anything at all for three weeks. The three-days-each schedule John and Anna had chosen was practical for them to handle the hospital and their jobs, but it resulted in them virtually not seeing each other for more than a month. So they both loudly sighed in relief when they finally closed their home's door on the three of them, one late August afternoon.
- Jesus, finally home! Those six weeks felt endless! exclaimed John as they had settled in their garden, letting Joanna rediscover her surroundings.
- It's not over though… pointed Anna.
- Yes, I know, but I'd like to think that the hardest part is behind us. If we're lucky, she won't have to stay as an inpatient anymore. And I do think it's time for us to be a little lucky.
- I agree…
- Daddy! Push!, interrupted Joanna, tugging on her father's sleeve, and showing him the swing.
- You want me to push you on the swing?, asked John.
- Yes daddy!
- OK, let's go!
Anna felt tears coming to her eyes as she watched father and daughter laughing together at the swing. That was what life was really about. She tried to capture a mental picture of the two of them, and stored it safely in her heart. Then she took out her phone to take a real picture, and share it with her friends and family.
x x x x
The Bates family had somewhat resumed their daily life for about a week, except for all the medication they had to give Joanna daily. They had been granted six weeks at home before going back to Leeds to start with the consolidation chemo. That Friday evening, as Anna had just come back from work, and John had finished giving Joanna her bath, the doorbell rang. Anna went to open, and smiled at Elsie standing in the doorway.
- Elsie? Hi, er, what are you doing here?
- Well, I'm here because I think it's your birthday, and your husband has ordered a baby-sitter.
- Oh, really?
- Hi Elsie!, said John as he came down the stairs, holding a pyjama-clad Joanna in his arms.
- What have you done, John?, asked Anna, frowning.
- I have planned a little outing for my wife's birthday. So you are going to go up and pack a bag for one night and one day.
- Er, are you sure it's wise?…, she hesitated.
She didn't dare voice it out loud, but they had not left Joanna in the care of anyone else beside the two of them since she had been admitted to the hospital. They had kept working part-time since she had been released, since the doctor had advised against leaving her with Mary's kids, until her immune system had recovered from the chemo, which was supposed to take two to three weeks. She did trust Elsie, who had always proved a reliable grandmother since Joanna's birth, but she felt unsure about leaving her baby.
- Come on Anna, reasoned John. You know we need some break. Remember what Dr Jawad said. Elsie is perfectly capable. It's only for about twenty-four hours.
Anna sighed.
- Yeah, OK, you're right. Sure.
They had enjoyed a very tasty dinner at the Abbey's restaurant, when John closed the door behind them, so that for the first time in almost two months, they found themselves together and alone.
- This is the room from our honeymoon…, pointed Anna with a smile.
- It is, agreed John, as he came slowly closer to her, and caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, devouring her face with his hungry gaze.
- I've missed you so much…, he breathed, cupping her cheeks, as she circled his shoulders with her arms.
Then in a split second they remembered that they were not only parents to a sick child, but also spouses, and lovers, and that they had not made love in two months, between the hospital stay and the exhaustion that had got the better of them since they had come home. Lips crashed on one another's eagerly, and soon they were engulfed in their own little world, leaving behind all the hurt and worry from the last weeks.
- What have you planned for tomorrow?, asked Anna, as they rested contentedly snuggled in each other's arms moments later.
- Oh, only a late lie-in, a royal breakfast, maybe some more of that, he winked, kissing her nipple. And then a road trip through North York Moors National Park.
- Sounds fun, said Anna. Do you think everything's OK with Jo?, she asked, shifting. Maybe we should call Elsie.
- Tut, tut. We agreed on no calling, except for emergency. She'll keep us updated with regular texts. Look.
He showed her his phone, so she could read Elsie's last text, saying:
"Everything is fine here. Jo asleep. We had fun tonight. She ate her dinner well"
- See? She's fine.
- Thanks, replied Anna in a wavering voice. I'm sorry, I'm being silly.
Tears were threatening in her eyes.
- You're not silly, darling. It's OK. It's natural you would worry after everything's that's been going on. I'm worrying too. But see. She really is fine. You can rest and enjoy.
His hand came to her cheeks and wiped her tears, before he bent down and kissed her gently.
- I love you John, whispered Anna. I could never have gone through this without you.
- And I without you. I love you too.
x x x x
Friends and family had gathered in the Bateses' garden to celebrate Joanna's second birthday. Her latest blood test had shown an immune system returned to satisfactory levels, so the doctor had allowed her to be in contact with more people. So at the beginning of this October month, John and Anna had decided to throw a big party for their daughter's birthday. The Carsons and the enlarged Crawley family were there, as well as Gwen and Thomas, and Anna had also invited Ethel and Charlie. Anna had bought a ball pool as a birthday gift for Joanna, and all the children were happily yelling and jumping in it. The little girl had almost regained a normal appetite, but her hair was still virtually non-existent, except for a handful of almost-white threads that were about as thin as a spider's cobweb. Her face looked very different too, without eyebrows and eyelids either, and her cheeks were swollen from the cortisone treatment she was still taking daily. Anna noticed the uneasy looks some of their guests sometimes shot at the little girl, and it made her heart ache. Yes, it was plainly visible on her daughter's face that she had cancer, and she couldn't look at her without being reminded of that fact. When they changed or bathed her, the little square form of the Port-A-Cath that showed under Joanna's pale skin, just below her right clavicle, was another reminder of all the treatments she still had to receive, before they could call a victory. The doctor had said they would take it out when Joanna would be declared cured, but then the scar would stay with them forever as a testimony of her past illness.
Shrugging, Anna tried to shake those thoughts away and focus on the day's joy. Her daughter was two years old today, and she deserved a princess's party. She smiled as she started picking up some balls that had been thrown out of the pool and threw them back into it.
- Are you having fun sweetie?, asked Anna to her daughter, whose large beam was a clue to her questioning.
- Mama, jump!, yelled the girl, holding out her hands to her mother.
- OK!, said Anna, taking Joanna's hands. One, two, three!, she counted, as the little girl jumped into the pool with all her heart.
A few feet away, John was taking pictures with his camera of Anna and Jo playing in the ball pool. Charles Carson, who was sitting near him, said:
- Do you think you should take so much pictures?
- Why ever not?, asked John. It's my daughter's birthday, of course I want to keep pictures of it.
- I know but… Do you really want to remember her in that state? I mean, with that bald head, and those steroids cheeks… It's so awkward.
John tensed a little:
- It's my daughter's second birthday, so yes I want to remember this day. I don't care how she looks.
- Alright, if you think so, muttered Charles.
- I'm sorry Sir, interrupted Ethel, who had been sitting not far from them and had overheard their conversation. It is very important for us and our kids to keep pictures and memories of that time in their life. It will always stay with us and with them. It'll always be a part of their lives. One day they'll be older and they'll ask questions, and it's important we can show them what they've been through, and what they've overcome.
John felt his eyes prickle at Ethel's heated tirade. She was right, but he only hoped deep down in his heart, that their kids would indeed one day be older and ask questions about that time. And not that the pictures would serve another reminding purpose.
- Thank you Ethel, he breathed.
He quickly sniffled and his smile came back as he heard Anna's and Jo's happy screams in the ball pool.