3 Oct 2014
Chloe,
Thank you for including that photo of you and Max with your last letter. It went right up on the wall. It's nice to have something to show everyone when I start talking about you guys.
How's Max enjoying her first semester at university? I hear it can be kind of a shock to the system. I wouldn't know personally. She's a smart one, though. I think she'll do fine.
Strange to think it'll be one year in just a week. Sometimes Arcadia Bay seems like a lifetime ago. I don't know if you got an invitation to the memorial ceremony being held in Portland on the 11th. I did, but I won't be attending. I don't feel like shaking hands with a bunch of politicians looking for a photo op. I can't speak for Ms. Chase, but I wouldn't bet money on her being there either.
If it's alright, I'd like to give you and Max a call that day. Her parents as well if they're available. I'd like to be able to talk about Joyce with people who actually knew her.
Everyone in Away sends their best. They all hope you're feeling well enough to come visit soon. Joan especially. She just finished her last round of chemotherapy. She asked me to tell you she recommends chewing ginger root for the nausea. Sounds weird to me but I guess she'd know best.
I know it's been rough but keep your head up. You're going to get through this.
Take care,
David
October 11, 2014
Caulfield Residence
Seattle, Washington
Here's a weird one for you.
Exactly one year ago, I was standing on the beach in Arcadia Bay. I was next to my best friend, the rain crashing down on us, watching the storm get closer and wondering if I'd live to the end of the day. Today, I'm sitting on a porch in Seattle next to my girlfriend, enjoying the reds and oranges of the setting sun, and wondering if I'll live to the end of the year.
What's so weird about that? The fact that when I was standing on that beach, my chances for survival had probably been a lot better.
Max doesn't like to talk about it. I think she's trying to protect me, but I can surf the web just as well as the next cancer patient. I've seen the sites and read the statistics and know full well that the odds are a long fucking way from being on my side.
Did you know that women (all of them, not just smokers) have a 1 in 17 chance of getting lung cancer in their lifetime? It's true. Or that only around 1.4% cases happen to women under 35? And of those, only about 7% are in the 18-21 range. And of those, half won't get diagnosed until they're already in stage 4A. Turns out that when doctors see a young person that has trouble breathing, their minds don't jump straight to 'chest full of tumors'.
Long story short, a woman my age has a roughly 0.003% chance of getting diagnosed with stage 4A lung cancer, which is exactly what I have.
Lucky fucking me.
The five-year survival rate for someone with my diagnosis is 10%, unless I go and make the jump into stage 4B lung cancer. That's when it's time to start saying your goodbyes.
Shit.
Sorry, I'm not trying to be a downer.
Anyway, that Arcadia Bay Memorial thing is happening today. Max and I both got invitations, but she flat-out refused to go. Not that I blame her. The last thing she wants is to see all those names engraved on some stone monument. David isn't going, even though someone actually managed to find him out in the desert to ask, and Steph said she couldn't care less. Who the hell knows what Victoria Chase is doing? Probably flouncing around doing rich-people shit.
I was tempted, though. David's probably right (which still feels weird to think) that the only people on that stage are going to be politicians looking for a little visibility, and I'm pretty sure the looks on their faces when I hobbled up onto whatever stage they have would've been priceless. They probably would've been scrambling to score a few points with the voters by getting a picture with Cancer-Orphan Chloe (now with chemo-infuser accessory!).
I probably could've guilted them into making me mayor of Portland or something. I mean, come on...I'm literally an orphan dying of cancer. It's like a real-life cheat code.
Max wouldn't like me saying that. My sense of humor has gotten a little darker these days (not that it was all flowers and sunshine before) but she still doesn't like it when I make jokes about dying. I do my best to keep them to myself, but it's hard. Sometimes it feels like dark, shitty humor is the only thing that lets me deal with the other stuff. Stuff like looking at my patient file while Doc Morris is out of the room and reading things like 'alarmingly rapid progression' or 'treatment effect negligible'.
Fuck it. It is what it is, and I've got better things to do than sit here moping. This fucking sunset isn't going to admire itself.
Who knows how many more I've got left?
Steph: So...one year.
Chloe: ya
Steph: How're you doing?
Chloe: im ok
Steph: Really?
Chloe: just tryin not to think about AB
Chloe: or mom
Chloe: or rachel
Chloe: but i have max
Chloe: so im ok
Steph: Okay.
Chloe: so where u guys at rn?
Steph: This little town in Colorado called Haven Springs. We're playing the local bar.
Steph: I actually kinda dig it. Reminds me of a miniature Arcadia Bay, minus the bullshit.
Chloe: dope
Chloe: whats izzy think of it?
Chloe: steph?
Steph: Me and Izzy aren't doing so good.
Steph: I actually think this might be our last gig.
Chloe: shit
Chloe: sorry
Steph: It fine. We've just been getting on each other's nerves a lot. This much time stuck in the same van will really test a relationship, you know?
Chloe: think ur gonna be back early?
Chloe: or are u gonna go find urself on the road or something?
Steph: I actually think I might stay here.
Steph: I mean, just for a little while.
Chloe: ok but be careful
Chloe: dont want to end up stuck there
Chloe: working in some hick town record store or something
Steph: Right. As if.
Max: You missed it! I just slipped on a wet patch of floor and ended up flailing around for like 10 seconds before I fell on my butt. Kris said it was like the most awkward ice capades she's ever seen.
Chloe: i didnt miss it
Chloe: i saw ur butt
Max: You aren't even here.
Chloe: no seriously
Chloe: i always see ur butt
Chloe: im like that black guy from the thor movie
Chloe: the one who can see the whole universe?
Max: Heimdall?
Chloe: ya him
Chloe: im like heimdall
Chloe: but for ur butt
Max: ...
Max: How baked are you right now?
Chloe: heimdall chloe doesn't answer to u
October 30, 2014
Caulfield Residence
Seattle, Washington
"Shit!"
My eyes snap up from my lecture notes just in time to watch Chloe stick the side of her hand in her mouth, and between the knife in her other hand and the drops of blood on the cutting board, it's easy to guess what happened. I'm halfway out of my chair when Chloe turns to glare at me. "Don't you dare."
"What?" Glancing down, I realize my right hand is already half raised. "I wasn't going to."
"My ass, you weren't," Chloe fires back, the words forming awkwardly around the knuckle between her lips. "Sit your skinny hipster butt down."
Now it's my turn to be annoyed. "Actually, I think I'm going to get the first aid kit before my dumbass girlfriend bleeds all over the kitchen counter."
"It's nothing," Chloe holds out her hand. "See? Just a little..." She trails off. Despite her insistence, the half-inch cut is actually bleeding pretty heavily. "Okay, maybe a bandage wouldn't be a terrible idea."
"You think?" Pulling several paper towels off the roll next to the microwave, I ball them up and press them onto Chloe's hand. "Hold this nice and tight, okay?"
"Got it." Chloe seems more than willing to hide the injury from sight. Waiting next to the counter, she watches as I retrieve the red first aid kit from under the kitchen sink and start rummaging around inside, pulling out a handful of supplies.
"Okay, let's take a look."
Chloe hesitantly unclenches her hand and we're both surprised to find that the wad of paper towels is practically soaked through. "What the hell?" she murmurs, her voice tight. "It wasn't even that deep a cut."
"Maybe you hit a vein or something." I replace the bloody paper towels with proper gauze padding, then begin to snugly wrap Chloe's hand up in white bandage. "As soon as I'm done we'll go to the ER. You'll probably need stitches."
Despite herself, Chloe rolls her eyes. "Yay. I get to visit the hospital."
"It'll be fine," I respond absently, trying to reassure myself as much as Chloe as I finish up and carefully tie off the bandage. "Okay, you wait here while I go get the car keys."
I'm only out of the kitchen for a moment, but when I return I find Chloe leaning heavily against the counter and staring at her hand.
"Uh, Max? We might have a situation here." The nerves in Chloe's voice are as obvious as she holds out her hand; blood has already begun to soak through the thick layer of medical gauze, slowly changing the bandages from pristine white to harsh crimson. "This isn't normal, right? I don't think it should be bleeding this much."
"No, it shouldn't." I half-turn toward the living room. "Hey, Dad? Could you come in here?"
The TV in the next room goes silent and we both hear the sound of my dad standing up from his recliner. He walks into the kitchen a moment later and frowns at the bloody paper towels on the counter. "You two do know Halloween isn't until tomorrow night, right?"
"Chloe cut her hand."
He gives me a puzzled look. "You know where the first aid kit is, don't you?"
"No, that's not what I..." I take a breath and try to keep my voice even. "She cut herself ten minutes ago, but it won't stop bleeding."
"Really?" Concerned now, he takes a closer look at the injury. "Yeah, that can't be good. We're definitely taking you to the ER." Grabbing a nearby dishtowel, he hands it to Chloe. "Wrap this around it really tightly and hold your hand up by your shoulder."
"Okay." I hate how small Chloe's voice sounds.
"We might have a long wait at the ER," he continues. "Max, I want you to go grab some comfortable clothes for Chloe, then go to the bathroom and grab all of her medications. I'm going to go get the inside of the car warmed up."
Chloe gives him a queasy smile. "You rock, Mr. C."
"I try," he grimaces. "Max. Get going."
"Right." This is fine. We can handle this. I'm ready to do whatever my girlfriend needs me to do. "I'm on it."
"Uh, babe? I'm...I'm actually getting a little dizzy here..." Her wavering voice reaches my ears before I've even made it across the room. I turn back just in time to see her crumple bonelessly to the floor.
"Chloe!"
Kristen: How's she doing?
Max: Sleeping right now.
Kristen: Have you been home yet?
Kristen: Max?
Max: No, not yet.
Kristen: You'd probably sleep better at home.
Kristen: Those chairs can't be good for your back.
Max: I'm fine here.
November 27, 2014
Seattle Cancer Care Alliance - UW Medical Center
Seattle, Washington
Sitting by Chloe's bedside, I absently poke at my rapidly-cooling turkey and potatoes. She's asleep right now. She sleeps a lot these days, and heavily enough that there's no risk that the sounds of regular hospital activity coming from the hallway might wake her up. I wish I could ignore them as easily. Even muffled by the partially closed door, I can pick out certain words and phrases that I've become increasingly familiar with since she was admitted.
We'd rushed Chloe to the ER following her kitchen accident, where we'd learned that she'd somehow managed to cut into her hand's radial artery. That would have been bad enough on its own, but then the tests the doctor had ordered over her excessive bleeding had come back. They'd revealed that Chloe had developed a serious bleeding disorder, probably as a side effect of her chemotherapy. Her body just wasn't producing enough platelets for her blood to clot properly. That meant even minor cuts could become potentially dangerous injuries.
Doctor Morris had recommended playing it safe by admitting her to the hospital for a little while. He'd thought it would give her a chance to recover her strength and, if they were very lucky, the bleeding disorder would turn out to be a temporary issue. He'd hoped that within a few days, she'd be recovered enough to go home with strict orders to take things very easy until she'd finished her current round of chemotherapy.
That was almost a month ago.
She hasn't gotten any better.
"Max?"
"Hm?" I look up to the doorway. "Oh, hey Mom."
"Your father and I are going to go get some dinner."
"Okay."
"It'd be nice if you came with us." She glances at the cafeteria tray in my lap, keeping her voice low. "I know it won't be the same as Thanksgiving dinner at home, but..."
"I'm fine here." The answer is a reflex by now, even if it's nowhere close to true. As an afterthought, I add, "But thanks."
"Visiting hours are almost over," she reminds me, as if I care.
"So?"
"So, I don't like the idea of you taking the bus this late."
"They haven't tried to send me home yet."
She nods, slowly. "Yes, they've been very accommodating, mostly because Doctor Morris put in a good word on your behalf. But that leeway won't last forever."
"Then I'll be here as long as it does."
"Chloe's probably going to be asleep all night, sweetheart. She'd want you to do the same."
"I'm fine here," I repeat, sharply. She looks like she's getting frustrated. I don't know why. I would have thought that by now, she'd know better than to expect a different response.
"Are you sure, sweetheart?"
"Yes." I turn back to Chloe, signaling the end of the conversation and hoping that Mom decides to take a hint. Apparently she does because she leaves without another word.
Setting my now cold dinner aside, I get up to close the door, then take a moment to grab an extra blanket from the room's other, empty bed. I drape it over Chloe's body as gently as I can, careful not to wake her as I tuck it up under her chin. The room is a little on the chilly side, and she gets cold so easily these days. As much as she teases me about being skinny, she's always been on the slim side herself. Chemotherapy certainly didn't help with that.
Lifting my hoodie off the back of my generic hospital chair, I zip it up and settle into the uncomfortable-as-hell seat as best I can. I take one more look at Chloe to make sure she's resting comfortably, then pull out my phone and get back to the game I'd been playing earlier. It's got 200 levels, apparently. I'm only on 16, but I've got plenty of time to change that, and nowhere else to be.