This is inspired by real-life events. Obviously in story mode, but the plot of a young woman having a tumour is personal. Not me, but a dear relative of mine who told me her story. Despite this, she became a neurologist herself and is living a healthy life :) She's an inspiration to me, honestly.
"Tumour?" Kenna breathes out, eyes wide. "B-But, how?"
Her doctor continues to speak but she can't even hear her words anymore. Her mind drifts to thoughts about what this news means, what will happen to her and her family and friends.
She can't believe it. She refuses to believe it.
A giggle escapes her lips and she rolls her eyes. "Okay, Doc. Tell me the truth," she whispers, but she knows deep down that doctors would never play with such news.
"Kenna-"
"Am I going to die?" She asks, biting her bottom lip. " I am twenty-three. I can't be ill! I've just started a new job, I've bought my first apartment..."
"Would you like me to get you some water?" Her doctor asks gently.
Kenna nods stiffly. "If you don't mind, yes," she tells her.
She watches as the woman gets up and leaves the consultation room. The second the door closes, Kenna rubs her face her throat suddenly becoming dry. Nothing makes sense to her and she tries to establish what is what in her head, wondering what she's going to do.
Her doctor returns and hands her the cup, watching as she swallows it whole. She places the cup down and turns to her doctor and nods.
"The tumour is benign. It is operable and-"
"What if I don't want surgery?" Kenna asks her. "I mean, it's benign. It's not going anywhere."
"You said it yourself, the dizziness and nausea," her doctor says. "It would be in your best interests to find long-term relief for those as well as the headaches."
"I'll be fine."
"It could lead to seizures, drowsiness, mental and behavioural changes," the doctor continues, eyeing Kenna empathetically. "I understand. You are young, healthy and you have your whole life ahead of you. Surgery is a scary thing, but one day, benign might become malignant."
Kenna shakily nods. "I'll think about it."
...
Fixing her hair in the mirror, Kenna puts her makeup on and eyes her dress through the mirror. It's Mary's and Francis's engagement party, the couple had decided to get married recently.
She puts her lipgloss away and grips the sides of the sinks tightly, her knuckles paling in colour. She blows out some air through her lips and slips her hair behind her ear, blinking her tears away.
"How are you not still dressed? You're normally first to party!"
Kenna turns and sees Mary enter the bathroom, fully dressed as she heads up beside her and checks herself in the mirror. She sees her large engagement ring sparkle in the light and she looks away.
"Uh, not feeling too well."
"Is your nausea back?" Mary asks gently.
Kenna nods stiffly. "Nausea, headaches... everything in between."
"You need to see your GP-"
"I'm fine!" Kenna cries out.
Mary frowns. "Okay. Could you be pregnant?"
"And whose baby would that be exactly?" Kenna snaps. "I'm always careful, I'm on the pill."
"I'm not saying anything relating to your sex life," Mary quickly says. "It's none of my business who you sleep with. Or how many people you sleep with... I just suggested-"
"Well, don't. Suggest anything, I mean," Kenna tells her. "You know what? I think I'll head home. I can't stand all of this right now."
Mary stops her, gently taking her hand. "You can tell me anything, you know?"
Kenna eyes their joined hands and nods. "I really feel like a dark room will be best for me right now."
"It's my engagement party," Mary tells her, holding up her ring hand as if Kenna doesn't know already. "I'll need my maid of honour there."
Kenna swallows deeply. She can't even think that far ahead in her life. Not now that she's got this unexpected news. She gasps, wincing in pain as her vision blurs. She stumbles and is quickly supported by a concerned Mary.
"Kenna, you're scaring me," Mary says, cupping her cheeks.
Kenna blinks the blurriness away, shaking her head. "I don't want to ruin your day."
"It's not my day," Mary says. "My day would be my wedding day. This is just a formality or a party even. It's not important."
"You weren't saying that moments prior," Kenna informs her lightly.
"But you're really ill. I can see that. You look pale. Where's your beautiful complexion at?"
Kenna shrugs. "Mary, I-"
"The party is starting soon," Francis says, entering the bathroom. "We need to leave right now. Why is Kenna still not dressed?"
Mary turns to him. "She's not coming."
"What?"
"She's not feeling her best. Stomach bug," Mary lies, leading Kenna into the bedroom and sitting her down. "We'll have to go without her."
Francis nods, running a hand through his hair. "Not the best, but fine. Hope you feel better when we return later this night, Kenna," he says, going to the door. "Bash is waiting downstairs. Are you ready, Mary?"
"Give me a minute," Mary says. "I'll be quick."
Francis leaves and she takes a seat beside Kenna, taking her best friend's hands in hers.
"Kenna, you've been feeling really ill for the longest of time. Even before Christmas, last year. You need to go and see-"
"I've already been," Kenna confesses quietly, tears stinging her eyes.
"And?"
"It's nothing," Kenna whispers. "I'm fine."
Mary laughs in relief, hugging her friend tightly. "Okay, I have to go. Maybe it's just stress?"
"Yeah, my doctor said so. I just need a few quiet nights in, I'll be fine."
Mary grins, kisses her cheek and gives her one last bright smile before she leaves and heads downstairs.
Kenna sighs in resignment, bowing her head as her tears return and the pain intensifies. She waits until she hears the front door open and shut downstairs before she sobs, covering her mouth to muffle the sounds she makes.
The door opens and she jumps, looking up to see Bash standing there with a glass of water and some painkillers in his hands. She quickly wipes her tears and accepts the water, popping the pills into her mouth and swallowing them down with the water.
"Thank you," she mumbles, embarrassed. "Why are you still here?"
"Mary didn't want you left alone. She said you weren't feeling well - headaches," Bash says, sitting down beside her on the bed. "I know we're not close or anything, but if you want, you can talk to me."
Kenna nods. "Thanks," she replies, giving him a smile. "I've just done my makeup."
"You still look alright," Bash tells her. "Are you wearing that waterproof mascara and setting powder or what?"
"How do you of all people know anything about makeup?" Kenna asks him, laughing.
"There you go. There's that smile," he says softly, giving her a smile himself. "What you were crying about..., do you want to tell me?"
Kenna shrugs indifferently. "I was just stressed out. I needed to-"
"I can read you. It's more than that," Bash says, studying her eyes. "You're hurt."
Kenna frowns deeply, turning away. "I'm good."
"I don't want to press you or anything, but everyone is concerned about you. A problem shared is a problem halved, Kenna," he replies.
Kenna turns back to him. The minute her eyes land on his, her lips waver and tears spring to her eyes. She gives him a wry smile, scoffing slightly as she sighs heavily and looks down.
"Before today, I had the next five years of my life planned out," she says quietly. "Rise through the ranks of my new job. Find someone, get married, probably have a kid... I had steps intricately planned out, I even accounted for unexpected events and all."
"What happened today?" Bash asks.
Kenna looks at him. "I thought it wasn't real," she whispers. "I thought... I thought that I could pretend that everything was alright. But it's not. Bash, it's not and... I don't know what to do. Where I go from here."
"Kenna," Bash starts, taking one of her hands. "What happened?"
"That's just the thing," she tells him. "I don't even know. This ruins everything."
"Kenna-"
"A tumour," she breathes out in shock and slight confusion as she turns away from him. "Brain tumour... Last year, I felt fine. Out of nowhere, this happens and..."
She takes a shaky breath and gives him a shrug. She doesn't know what to do or what to say. She feels awful, confused and just tired and worn-out. This blindsides her, comes out of nowhere and she feels Bash grip her hand tightly in slight comfort.
But it isn't comforting. Not whilst the intense pain in her head distracts her from feeling anything good or comforting.
"I'm so sorry," Bash tells her, brushing her hair from her eyes. "Is it... Is it serious? I mean, there are benign and-"
"It's benign," she cuts him off.
"Okay," he says. "Uh, that's good. Kenna, that's better than the other options. Were you given options? I am sure you were given some options."
"It's operable, but I don't want that," Kenna says. "But my doctor tells me that it could become inoperable and my symptoms will worsen. I-I don't know what to do, Bash. Tell me what to do."
"I can't make that decision for you," Bash says gently.
She rests her head on his shoulder and he lets go of her hand to wrap his arms around her.
"You have to tell your family at least," he tells her. "Mary as well. She will-"
"No," Kenna cuts him off. "Not right now. I need some space, to think. To make arrangements."
He frowns. "A-Arrangements? Like what?"
"A will maybe? Shit that I should get around to doing..." She trails off, pulling away from him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to dump this all on you."
"Not at all," Bash says softly. "I'm here if you need anything."
Kenna gives him a small smile. "I think, I will be fine. You don't need to worry about me. In fact, why don't you head to the party?"
"And leave you alone?"
"I live alone, I've been going through this alone. I'm good, Bash. I don't need you to be there for me or anything. I mean, we're practically strangers," she replies, shrugging.
"Don't say that. A friend of Mary's is a friend of mine."
She gives him a look. "Do you still... feel anything for her?"
Bash frowns, furrowing his brows. "Why do you ask?"
"Don't worry about it," she tells him, getting up. "I'm going to get dressed and go home."
"Should I drop you off?"
"No," Kenna whispers. "I'll be fine."
She quickly hugs him tightly and sighs heavily before letting go and heading into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She lays her back against the door and bites her bottom lip to stop herself from crying. She shouldn't have told him, it's none of his business.
But she can't keep it to herself as well, she realises. It feels good to be unburdened, if only for a few minutes. But he has his own life, his own problems and she doesn't need to add to them.
When she's sure that her tears are not coming, she fixes her hair and retrieves her clothes.
...
"I'll do it," Kenna whispers, eyeing her doctor. "The surgery."
Her doctor nods, giving her a small smile. "Shall I go through the steps?"
"Please."
"During surgery, as much of the tumour as possible will be taken out. If some still remain, you may need to seek further treatment with radiotherapy. A full recovery is possible and there is a small chance that the tumour can return..."
"Okay," Kenna says. "Can I seek private treatment? To speed things along because of work-"
Her doctor places a hand on top of hers gently as she says, "Kenna, this is your health we are talking about. Your job will have to wait because at any moment, the tumour can grow and then we will be talking about other options. I will give you leaflets to take home to read, to give you more information. You can ask me anything at all."
Kenna swallows deeply. "What happens after radiotherapy?"
"Follow-up appointments to see how you are doing, know of any new symptoms and any worries you might have," her doctor tells her. "Is there any family that you can contact for support?"
"I don't want them to know," Kenna says firmly. "They have their own lives. The last thing they need is me... me getting ill."
Her doctor sighs, but nods and accepts her answer. "You shouldn't go through this alone. If you need anything, call the practice and I will get back to you as soon as I can."
They stand and Kenna shakes her hand, thanking her. She puts the leaflets into her handbag and leaves, closing the door behind her. She takes a shaky breath, making her way back to the reception and she's surprised by who is waiting there.
"Bash?"
Bash looks up, stands and heads over to her. "Are you okay? What did your doctor-"
"Why are you here?" She asks, cutting him off.
"I-I followed you. I did some research after you left and I read up on the symptoms... Kenna, you shouldn't be driving," he tells her, leading her outside.
She crosses her arms the minute they get to his car. "I told you last night, I don't need your support. I've got this by myself."
"Why are you so stubborn?" He asks, incredulous.
"Stubborn?" She retorts. "Bash, it's none of your business! I'm not your friend, or your girlfriend, or your sister or wife or anything! This is my life, my tumour. It's not happening to you or anyone else we know, but me. Let me do things my way."
She shakes, tears running down her cheeks. Kenna is scared, terrified even, but she will never let that be known. She's been brought up to be strong, to face things head-on and not bury her head in the sand.
"I don't need anyone," she sobs. "I'm a mess, everyone practically hates me most of the time. I'm vain, I'm horrible, I'm a bitch. Hedonistic, that was a new one I learnt. More or less, a whore. Most of all, I am selfish so let me be selfish and do this on my own because it is my choice."
Bash reaches out a hand towards her. "Phone."
"Why?"
"Give me your phone, Kenna," he says.
Kenna studies him, taking her phone out of her bag, unlocks it and places it on his hand. "What are you doing?"
"I'm," he starts, typing something into her phone. "Saving my number. In case you need it."
"I won't," she says defiantly. "I don't need people. They need me."
"Maybe that's going to change," Bash replies, handing her her phone back.
She scoffs. "Trust me, it won't," she snaps, turning and heading to her car.
The nerve, she thinks as she rubs her tears away.
In her hastiness and with her blurry eyes, she doesn't see the oncoming car and she's quickly tackled into the side of her car, a loud horn blaring behind her as the window rolls down and a voice says, "Watch where you're going!"
Kenna pushes her saviour away and quickly vomits onto the ground before sinking down and sitting. She breathes heavily, more sobs escaping her lips as she covers her face.
"Kenna, please."
She shrugs Bash's hands off her, her hand going to her heart to steady it. She can't believe she almost got herself killed. It's not like the tumour wasn't doing that enough already.
"Why me?" She asks, looking up at Bash. "Why me?"
"I don't know," he replies, kneeling down to face her. "I know you're hurting-"
"Hurting? It hurts so goddamn much. My head, my body, my heart," she tells him. "No one understands. The pressure, the comments, everything... They think I live this perfect life, but it's not that at all. I sleep around because I can't hold a stable relationship and I just want to stop feeling lonely for one night. But those one nights become every single day and it's hard just to leave the bed in the morning. If not for my headaches or the fear of having a seizure or something, just for the fact that nobody really cares."
Bash wipes her tears. "I care."
"Why?" She asks him, swallowing her sobs. "I'm not some maiden who needs to be saved or anything, so why do you care?"
"This is life and death, Kenna," Bash says quietly. "You either fight for your survival or give up and die. I know the kind of person you are, you are so strong and determined, I know you can get through this. But you just need a little push, some support. Everyone needs someone at some point."
Kenna stares at him in shock and slight awe. "Really?"
"Yeah, really," he says, brushing her hair from her eyes. "Do you want to go private?"
She nods. "Yeah."
"Okay," Bash replies. "We are getting somewhere."
"I want the operation."
"Even better."
"I was given options and advice."
"We will talk them through."
Kenna sniffles and wipes the remaining of her tears. "Can you take me home?"
"I'll do you one better. I'll drop you off with your car and take a taxi back here to get mine," he tells her, getting up.
He offers her his hands and she takes them, getting up and wrapping her arms around his waist as she lays her head on his chest. She knows she's soaking his exposed shirt with her tears, but he doesn't seem to mind anyway.
"Thank you," she breathes out.
"You're welcome."