Love You All 1616
Derek drove them to the hospital at five thirty in the morning. It was too early and neither of them had gotten enough sleep. It was a night filled with fear and reassurance. And, as a result, little sleep. Derek unplugged the alarm clock at 4:58, two minutes before it was actually going to sound. He wanted to spare Meredith from the headache that accompanied the buzzing. But, he soon realized it did not matter. First, she was already awake, her eyes glued to the cieling. And second, she already had a headache, her breaths heavy as she breathed through the pain.
The car ride was quiet. Derek focused on the road, while Meredith rested her head against the window, trying to take in the beauty of Seattle as it whirled passed her. But, she soon became dizzy and had to close her eyes to fight off a wave of nausea. This, of course, merited a worried look from Derek. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Yeah," she breathed out in a whisper as the world slowly began to steady. She opened her eyes and looked at him, a soft smile forming on her lips. She wanted to show him that she was okay. Well, as okay as she could be, considering the circumstances. He responded with a smile and reached out to squeeze her hand. It was cold and sweaty - signs of both fever and nervousness. She squeezed it back, holding on to it tightly for the rest of the way there.
When they arrived at the hospital, they were met by her oncologist, Dr. Smith. He was nice, very well respected in the medical realm. This made Derek comfortable. He also looked kind of like Santa Claus, minus the beard, which was also, in a weird way, comforting. He was a big man with a very round and red nose. Derek half expected him to start roaring with laughter, asking them what they wanted for Christmas. Of course, this is not what happened. When he opened his mouth, his tone of voice was not jolly, but instead very serious. He did not speak of candy and presents. Rather, he spoke to them about cancer, about their future - a future, which seemed, increasingly overwhelming. And that's that he did not even discuss their long terms plans. He discussed their short-term plan. A short-term plan that lasted three to four months long. Four months of chemotherapy, of trying to achieve remission, of probably having to receive induction chemotherapy. Four months of being sick, of vomiting, of barely being coherent. If this was the short term plan, what was the long term one? More chemotherapy? A transplant? Death?
But they didn't have time to think about that. They didn't have time to think about anything. Because, as they spoke, the cancer was already killing her. It was already making its way through her vulnerable body, like a snake releasing venom, and nothing was stopping it. They were like sitting ducks, waiting for the fangs to strike. Nothing was hitting that damn snake against the head, that damn cancer, so that it would die. So, they didn't have time to think. They didn't have time to do anything. Because, before they knew it, Meredith was putting on a hospital gown and being wheeled off to surgery.
They were going to insert a Hickman into her chest, a catheter into the vein above her heart. It would stick out of her like an alien object. It had three outlets, through which they would give her blood, take her blood, and insert medications. So many medications: chemo, nutrition, anti-nausea, anti-virals, antibiotics. So many anti-things. Because, she needed to be anti-everything. The chemo would leave her so prone to everything - nausea, infection, broken bones. So, she needed to be anti-everything in order to stay a little bit human. But, it seemed like such a paradox to her.
She felt so alien the second she woke up from the anesthesia and immediately began her treatment. A plastic tube was inserted into her chest via the catheter. And through it flowed an ugly colored liquid - the chemotherapy. She felt like a car being pumped with gas. But, it wasn't the right kind of gas. It was the kind of gas that ended up breaking your car. Because, it was the wrong gas. It was diesel not premium and it was breaking her. She felt feverish, but cold at the same. She felt nauseous, but tired. She wanted to heave, but did not have the energy. And then she felt even more exhausted as they pumped more anti-everything into her system. She was conscious, but incoherent at the same time. She vaguely remembered Izzie, Alex, and George visiting her. Then Cristina, Lexie, and Mark. She cringed at the thought of them seeing her like this - so alien, so vulnerable, so scared and sick. She wondered who told them. She had told Cristina, but she hadnt gotten around to telling everyone else. It had probably been Derek. She felt bad for him — that he had to have that conversation. She wondered what he said: "Hey guys, Meredith's in room 908 receiving chemo, I thought it would be nice if you were there for her," "Hey, Meredith has Leukemia," "Hey, Meredith's dying." These thoughts entered her head sometimes. But then, they were replaced by thoughts of pain, vomiting and sleep.
The day wore on — more pain, more vomiting, more sleep. Chief Webber and Dr. Bailey stopped by but Derek told them "five minutes." He could tell that whenever people were there, she tried to be strong - too strong. She would sit up and try to talk. But, as soon as they were gone, she would pass out or begin to puke. So "five minutes" it was; and then began the "thirty minutes" of puking. Derek frequently had to grab the basin - or barf bowl - by the bed. It was a hideous green color - like barf. He wondered if they made it like that on purpose. So that the barf wouldn't look so bad? It would merely resonate the bowl. He joked about this to Meredith: Hey it's not that bad, the bowl looks just as bad. She didn't find it all that amusing while she was puking in said bowl. But, he tried. He tried as hard as he could to put a smile on her face, to make her feel even just a little bit better. Sometimes, his attempts worked, but sometimes they were futile, they were nothing, because nothing could take away her feeling of nausea, her feeling of bone-splintering pain. And when such occasions arose, he would hold her, whisper to her murmurs of hope and love. But, of course, he felt so helpless, so pitiful, so useless when as he told her I love you she puked into her barf bowl. But what else could he do but tell her I love you? What else could he do but hold her and be there by her side?
It was extraordinary how, after only twelve hours, life had become about catheters, medications, and constant nausea. By the end of those twelve hours it seemed like such things would become ever-present within their life. The doctors explained to them how to take care of the catheter, gave them what seemed like a million medications, and warned them of possible worrisome complications - infections, fractured bones, non-stop blood loss. They even gave them a special watch that would track her temperature: they should try to maintain a temperature below 101 and if it rose above 102 it could mean she has a serious infection.
She wanted to cry as Derek took off the watch he had given her on their second anniversary. It was beautiful - white gold, with small cut diamonds circling the rim. Engraved on the back said: Derek and Meredith, together forever in time. This emblem of their love was replaced by a hideous black thing. It was big and bulky and reminded her of the leukemia that was taking over her life. It was a constant reminder: every so often it made a horrible beeping sound, indicating a rise or drop in her temperature. With leukemia,she discovered when she went home, you could never forget - not even for a second - that you had it. She thought that maybe at home, she could distract herself from the disease, the snake, that was poisoning her. But it was, indeed, impossible. It was the beeping of the hideous watch, the nausea until there was nothing left to vomit; it was the constant interruption of a welcome sleep, the three in the morning reminder to take a pill; it was that thought in the back of her mind that this was only the beginning, that it was only going to get worse, that another trip to the doctor's office, another meeting with the barf bowl was only three, two, one day away.
How had time passed so quickly and yet so slowly ? How had it already been three days when she opened her eyes, for the first time, in a semi-coherent state? Throughout the first day back she had slept. And, throughout the second, the only thing she remembered was vomiting, pain and then numbness after Derek gave her a very large pill.
Slowly, she turned her head. And immediately, her eyes were met by those comforting blue eyes that told her, with one glance, I love you.
"Hi," she smiled.
"Hi, sleepy head," he smirked in response, trying to make light the fact that she had been asleep for almost two whole days.
" Were you watching me sleep again?" she asked, going along with his light mood.
He shrugged, lifting up his arm to stroke her cheek. "Well, you see, you kind of snore."
" I do not!" Her face lit up as she protested, a giggle erupting from her lips.
"You do too," he chuckled.
"Well maybe," she admitted " But, only a little bit."
"Try a lot a bit," he smirked.
The room was filled with that angelic giggle once again as she reached out and smacked his shoulder. " Well, its your fault for not wearing those damn earplugs I bought you."
"Do you not remember the earplug incident?"
At this, Meredith burst into laughter. " I can't believe you thought you were going deaf for a whole day."
"I can't believe nobody told me I had earplugs in my ears."
"You have to admit it was pretty funny."
"It was," he agreed, joining her in her laughter.
That giggle, it filled the whole room with happiness. It resonated off the walls, filling the room with a little bit of normalcy, with a flashback in time of what their mornings used to be like. And for a moment, they both forgot.
But, they also forgot, that with leukemia you could never forget. This time it wasn't the nausea or the pills, but it was the beeping of the hideous watch. Immediately, they both became quiet, a feeling of fear and dread creeping up their body. Softly, Derek grabbed her wrist and turned it so that he could read the watch. Meredith didn't bother looking down. Instead, she searched his eyes for the answer, and immediately she could tell he wasn't happy.
"Derek?" she asked fearfully.
He realized that he was probably scaring her and looked up to give her a smile and stroke her cheek. "It's fine," he smiled. "It's just not as low as I would like it to be."
"What's it at?" she asked, not knowing if she wanted to know the answer.
"One hundred point three,"
Her eyes began to panic. She knew that if she broke one hundred and two she would have to go to the hospital. They would put her in isolation. And, she didn't know if she could handle that. Not yet. It had all just started. It was too early for that.
Derek saw the fear creep into her eyes and immediately he pulled her closer to him, his hand cupping her face.
"Meredith, its fine. It's down from yesterday." "Down from yesterday?" she asked, her voice quivering, as confusion spread across her face.
"Yeah," he said sympathetically, realizing that she probably didn't remember any of yesterday. She didn't remember the fear that had succumbed him with each damn beep of that hideous watch.
"It broke one hundred and one," he admitted.
"Wh-hat?" she asked, her eyes darting from his towards the ceiling as she tried to remember. " I-I don't remember."
"I know," he said softly, trying to comfort her as he stroked her cheek. "I had to give you some pretty strong pain medication to keep it down."
At this, she became overwhelmed. She began to realize, that she had, in fact, been asleep for almost two whole days. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Is this what her life would be like for the next four months? Would she be asleep through most of it, barely conscious? And then, she realized she hadn't seen her boys for three days. Where were they? She didn't even know what day it was. Did they have school today? Were they in the house? Had they been okay for the past two days? She had never been away from the twins for that long. And Noah? How was Noah? She worried about him. He was having a hard time lately. What if he was sad? What if he was lonely? Scared?
"Derek, where are the boys? How are they? Are the twins okay? And Noah? What if—"
"Meredith," Derek interrupted, wiping the tears away from her face. "The boys are fine. They're at school."
Meredith took in a deep breath and tried to compose herself. But, she missed them. She missed tucking them and telling them I love you. She missed being there for Noah. She didn't know exactly what was going on with him, but it worried her, and she needed to be there for him.
Derek also worried about the boys. They were confused. They had never been away from Meredith for that long. And they didn't understand why they couldn't see her. They didn't understand why Derek had been on the verge of hysterics last night. They didn't understand why Izzie had to come over to take care of them while Derek tried to get Meredith's fever down. They didn't understand why both Izzie and Derek looked like they were on the verge of tears all the time. Derek wanted to tell them, to let them know that their mother was sick. At least, that way, they would understand why nothing was normal. At least, that way, they wouldn't be so confused, asking him when their mommy was coming back.
"Meredith," he said hesitantly. "I think we should tell them."
Meredith's face transformed from one of fear into determination. "No!"
"Meredith," Derek protested, as he stroked her cheek. "They're confused. They don't know what's going on. They're asking questions. I think. I think they deserve to know."
"No!" Meredith cried out as she slapped Derek's hand away from her face.
"Why not?" Derek asked a little to harshly. But, he was tired and frustrated, frustrated of lying to his children. He knew that if one of his parents had cancer when he was younger he would have wanted to know.
" You don't get it!"
"I don't get what?" Derek asked, trying to calm himself down. "Tell me what I don't get. Tell me why I have to keep lying to them."
" Don't do that," Meredith spat.
"Do what?" Derek sighed.
Meredith's lips began to tremble as tears silently spilled down her cheeks. "Make me feel guilty," she choked out. " Don't you think I feel guilty enough! Because of me…because when they find out that I…"
She began to choke on her words. Derek immediately began to feel guilty himself, realizing what he had just made her feel. He had made her feel guilty for having cancer and that was the last thing he ever wanted to make her feel. He pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her trembling body, as he whispered comforting words into her ear. But, it was as if she didn't hear him.
"When they find out that I have cancer," she cried. " When they find out that I have cancer their childhoods are going to be ruined. I don't want them to think of their childhood and just associate it with their mom having cancer. That's why I don't want to tell them. That's why…"
"Okay," Derek said comfortingly, trying to calm down her shaking body. "It's okay. We won't tell them now. It's okay. It's—"
"And Noah. It's too soon Derek. Why did this have to happen so soon?"
Derek's body stiffened as he realized what she was talking about. It was really soon. They were barely recovering from what had happened a year and a half ago and now this. Noah was still so angry, so sad, so confused. He didn't understand what had happened and it was hard for them to explain it to him, especially since he accidentally saw it. They couldn't tell him that it wasn't what he thought it was, because it was. It was exactly what he thought it was. One day, his grandma was there — well, at least she was breathing, her eyes were occasionally open, and sometimes she mumbled things. And the next day, she wasn't. The next day, he witnessed Derek storming out of the room, while Meredith stayed there, holding his grandmother's hand as a doctor unplugged the machines that were breathing and feeding her.
" Why did this have to happen so soon?" she cried into his chest.
"I don't know," he said sadly, hugging her — not only for her comfort but for his as well. "I don't know."
"He blames me," she whispered into his chest, her voice cracking at the end. "He thinks I could have stopped it."
"You're not the one that could have stopped it," he said bitterly.
Meredith pulled away from his chest and looked into his eyes, noticing that he was still tearing himself apart about it.
"Derek," she whispered, stroking his cheek. "It's what she wanted."
"It doesn't mean I agree with it," he snapped.
"Derek," Meredith protested.
"No! She should have had the surgery! She could have survived it! She just…she gave up!"
"Derek, she didn't give up…she was just tired. She was just so tired. She had already had three surgeries. She wanted to live what time she had left fully, not with half a brain. She was just tired. She had fought and she was tired. She was just —"
"She made me kill her!" Derek barked. " She made me promise that when the time came that I would not override her decision and force her to have the surgery. She made me promise that I would pull the plug. She made me kill—"
"Derek," Meredith interrupted. " You didn't kill her. The tumor killed her. The tumor kill—"
"But, if it weren't for my decision she would still be here with us. She would still—"
"She would still be here with us, yes. But, it wouldn't be her. She would have half a brain. And anyways, even with the surgery, she would have had only months, a year tops."
"But that's time we didn't have. That's time I didn't have with my mother. That's -"
"Derek," Meredith said, grabbing his face and making him calm down. "It's what she wanted. You have to respect that. You have to respect that she wanted to maintain what little dignity she had left."
He stared at her, and suddenly a fear he didn't know he had swept over him. Maybe this fear was why he had been so sentimental about his mom this morning. Maybe this fear was something he had been trying to hide, to suppress. But now, whether he liked it or not, it was erupting inside him. And now, he could no long pretend it didn't exist. Because, he realized that it did. He realized that it was dwelling inside him, growing, with each passing minute.
"Meredith?" he asked, his voice cracking at the end. "Your going to fight this right? Even if it gets really bad, you're not going to give up, right?"
Meredith's eyes filled with tears as he asked her these questions. These were the questions she had been avoiding. These were the questions she didn't want to deal with. Because, if it got really bad, if it got to a point, where she could try to live, in pain and and with a slim chance of survival, would she? Or, would she just give up? Would she want to live the rest of the time she had left in peace? Would she want people to pull the plug on her the second it got really bad? Or, would she want to try to live, fighting a battle that might not even be worth fighting?
She opened her mouth, trying to form a coherent thought, but nothing came out.
"Meredith?" Derek asked again. He knew he was being selfish, but he had to know. He had to know that he wouldn't be placed in a position where he would have to decide whether to pull the plug or not. "Meredith?"
She opened her mouth once again, trying to speak. But, nothing came out. She couldn't find her voice, her throat feeling as if it had closed in on her.
There was a painful silence between the both of them. Derek stared at her, begging her for an answer. And she stared at him, unable to give one.
Just when the silence became to painful, a beep filled the room. But, this time, it wasn't that of her hideous watch. It was Derek's beeper.
Reluctantly, Derek pulled his eyes away from her and stared down at his beeper.
" I…ughh… I have to go," Derek muttered as he looked at her again. "Izzie's downstairs if you need anything."
"Okay," Meredith whispered, barely audibly.
Derek got out of bed and headed for the door. "I'll be back in a couple of hours," he said, turning around and giving her what was probably the most disjointed smile she had ever seen. " I love you ."
Meredith nodded her head, trying to find her voice again. "Me too," she whispered, a tear finally rolling down her cheek as Derek closed the door. "Me too."
Now, the tears wouldn't stop. They flowed down her cheeks uncontrollably. No matter, how much she tried, she couldn't stop them. Because, suddenly, everything was so real. Before, she knew she could die. But, she didn't want to think about. It was a possibility. But, it wasn't happening now. She was barely at the beginning. Anything could happen. She could beat this thing in a year. She could survive it. But now the what if thoughts started to permeate her mind - like the cancer that was pervading her body. What happens if she doesn't go into remission. What if she does, but then relapses? What if the second round of chemotherapy doesn't work? What if she can't find a bone-marrow donor? What if she has to participate in a clinical trying, where only one other person has survived? With these thoughts, she realized she had to start thinking about death and how far she wanted to go fighting this thing. Would she fight it forever, or just until her chances of survival became really low.
She didn't know. She didn't know. And, because of that, the tears kept rolling down her face.
16