Come to Light

by happylikeafool

Blindsided by a diagnosis that threatens the semblance of the life she's built for herself, Emma finds herself a patient at the Boston Cancer Center, where she meets Regina, a volunteer waiting on an adoption that can't come soon enough. They're two lonely people crossing paths in the dark and maybe, just maybe, they'll be exactly what the other needs. Slow burn Swan Queen AU.

3. The Almost but not Quite Alphabet

Chapter 3: The Almost but Not Quite Alphabet

There was perhaps nothing more mortifying than trying to explain to a medical tech at the hospital that, despite the fact that she'd answered 'six weeks' to his question about when her last period had been, she was one hundred percent sure she wasn't pregnant. Emma didn't understand why he was eyeing her like he didn't believe her. Stress screwed up people's menstrual cycles, that was a pretty well known fact, and finding out she had cancer was pretty high up on the stress inducers list.

"Yes, I'm sure," Emma insisted again, pink beginning to tinge her cheeks. She didn't feel like explaining that she hadn't had sex with anyone in six months, let alone that it had been far far longer than that, like nearly a decade longer, since she'd had sex with anyone who could get her pregnant.

The young male tech looked uncomfortable and he scratched the back of his ear a moment as he studied her. "I'm sorry," he finally said, "Our standard procedure is to have you take a pregnancy test." He didn't wait for a response, just stood and grabbed the pregnancy test from a nearby medical cabinet before returning to hold it out for her to take.

Emma's cheeks flushed further red as she eyed the test. She wanted to scream I'm a lesbian at him but instead she just sighed and reached for the test, heading into the washroom he pointed her towards.

She still had no clue what a PET scan really was but it was rapidly rising on a list of most hated medical procedures - especially once it became clear that taking a pregnancy test wasn't actually all that easy. First of all, she didn't actually have to go to the washroom. After trying for ten minutes, she came out of the washroom and mumbled out an apology. After insisting another time that she most definitely was not pregnant, and that even if she was, she was pretty sure someone would have mentioned something after her CT scan the day before, the tech decided they could get through the first part of the test without the pregnancy test.

He filled her a cup of the same awful drink they used for CT scans made ten times worse by the fact that it was mixed with lukewarm tap water instead of juice.

"I'm sorry," he apologized when she grimaced at the first sip, "I know it tastes better with juice but we use a glucose based tracer to bind the radioactive isotope to for the test. Juice could theoretical skew the results."

Radioactive? This test was radioactive? Like glowing green? Or like some kind of Spider Man shit? She was suddenly thinking that perhaps googling it would have been a good idea.

Her expression must have shown her confusion because the tech was quick to clarify, "There's little danger. It will pass out of your body quickly. How the test works is that the tracer concentrates in areas with higher cell activity, areas that consume a lot of glucose - like cancer. The scanner then reads how much radioactive isotope there is in different areas of your body. Essentially, the more tracer there is in area, the more an area will light up on the screen."

A vague recollection of hearing the expression 'lit up like a Christmas tree' popped into Emma's head. She must of heard it on a TV show or something, she decided, and now that was what was going to happen to her. Soon someone would be staring at a screen and assessing the brightness of her insides, someone would be deciding exactly just how cancer-y she was. Because this wasn't a question of if but of how much. She would be bright, at least above her diaphragm, but perhaps other places. Who knew? The thought that the cancer could have invaded further, that even now it could be spreading outward from its point of origin, further and further and further towards her extremities, was unsettling. So unsettling that she didn't want to think about it anymore.

The tech was staring at her expectantly, clearly waiting for a response, but Emma wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. Eventually she just nodded at him and took a large gulp of the drink, forcing herself not to grimace this time.

xxxxxx

Once the drink was done, the tech sent her back to the washroom to take the pregnancy test, which was where Emma encountered her second problem. The spot on this pregnancy test that she was supposed to pee on was small, like really really small. She nearly had a panic attack as she continued to miss, getting urine all over her hand but not managing to get any on the right part of the stick. She didn't know what she would do if she had to go back out there and tell that guy that she'd screwed this up. As if trying to explain that she was sure she wasn't pregnant, and then that she couldn't pee, hadn't been mortifying enough. Just when she was sure she was done for, she finally managed to get the test stick positioned right, and she breathed an audible sigh of relief.

When she walked out a few minutes later and handed over the negative test she resisted the urge to add an 'I told you so'. It was probably best not to antagonize the person who was about to jam a needle full of radioactive something or other into her arm.

xxxxxxx

The PET scan wasn't so bad. Disappointingly, the radioactive tracer hadn't been a fun green glowing colour like she'd been imagining it, and the scan itself was significantly longer than the CT scans she'd had, requiring her to lie still with her arms over her head for a solid thirty minutes, but, unlike a CT scan, the test didn't require the injection of the dye that made her feel like she was peeing herself, which was a nice welcome surprise.

When she was finally done with the test, she slid her red leather jacket on, gave an awkward wave to medical tech guy, and slipped out into the hallway, navigating her way through hospital hallways to the main entrance of the building and stepping out into the cool fall air - winter was most definitely rapidly approaching. Her eyes slid, almost against her will, to her right, where the cancer centre stood, connected to the hospital by a narrow enclosed pathway. She stared at it a moment and then forced herself to look away. She didn't have to go there today. That appointment, the one where the verdict on her staging and treatment plan would be delivered, wasn't for two more days. She didn't understand where this sudden flurry of panic was coming from but it simmered deep in her belly as she thought about that appointment two days away. She took a deep breath and then another and then, mercifully, her stomach grumbled distracting her.

It was past lunch time and she hadn't eaten since the night before, she'd sort of forgotten, but clearly her stomach had not. She craned her head to look behind her back at the hospital, considering the cafeteria inside as a viable option for a moment, before deciding that she'd had about all of the antiseptic smell and white walls she could stand for one day. Instead she darted across the road, heading for a small cafe that would certainly have, at a minimum, muffins or donuts or something of that variety to offer.

xxxxxx

The cafe was packed.

Emma stood in the entrance way a moment, letting warmth permeate through her, a welcome relief from the cool outdoor air - it was only now that she realized it was colder out than she'd thought. She cupped her hands and brought them up to her mouth, blowing on them to warm them up, as she looked around, trying to ascertain exactly what kind of cafe this was. After a few moments, she understood. Orders were placed at the counter and then customers were handed a number to carry with them to a table of their choosing, where food was eventually delivered to them.

She studied the menu printed on a large chalkboard that was mounted above the counter as she shuffled forward in line.

When it was finally Emma's turn, the young woman behind the counter, whose name tag said 'Sage', smiled at her, "What can I get you?"

Emma's eyes darted up to the memo once more before she decided, "Grilled cheese, please. And...umm...a hot chocolate."

"Did you want whip cream on the hot chocolate?" Sage asked as she pressed buttons on the register.

"Yeah sure," Emma nodded, hesitating a second and then adding, "And...actually...do you have cinnamon?"

Sage wrinkled her nose, clearly finding the question strange, but then she shrugged, "Yeah."

"Could I have some of that on top?" Emma shot the girl an apologetic smile for the somewhat unusual request.

Sage just shrugged again, "Sure." She finished punching keys on the cash register and then told Emma the price.

Emma pulled rumpled bills from the pocket of her pants - grey sweatpants because she'd been told to wear metal free clothing for the scan - and exchanged them for a placard with the number 23. Shuffling away from the register, she was now faced with the dilemma of finding a table. She scanned the room, starting to feel pretty certain she was going to have to eat her grilled cheese sitting on the ground, when she spotted a familiar looking brunette sitting at a table near the window all by herself. Regina. The name popped into Emma's head as she recalled where she'd seen her before - at the cancer centre the week before.

Emma hesitated a moment, not sure approaching a woman who would surely remember her as a mumbling idiot was the most brilliant of plans, but after a bit of internal debate, she decided she had nothing to lose. After all, eating grilled cheese sitting on the floor certainly wasn't that appealing of an alternative.

xxxxxx

Regina was picking at the garden salad she'd ordered, staring out the window, when she heard the shuffling of feet and the clearing of a throat. She looked away from the window and in the direction of the noise. She blinked slowly, saying nothing for a long moment as she stared at the blonde with the bright green eyes and an almost sheepish expression. It only took her a moment to place the woman - that red leather jacket was quite distinct. She waited expectantly for the woman, whose name she remembered was Emma Swan, to say something.

"Hi," Emma smiled, "...Regina, right?" She didn't wait for Regina to confirm, just continued, "We met the other day. At the cancer centre. You probably don't remember..."

Emma was a nervous rambler. It was a trait that would usually annoy Regina, yet she couldn't help but find something endearing in the earnest expression on the blonde's face. "I remember," Regina offered, face neutral.

"Oh," Emma's eyes widened slightly, surprised, her train of thought clearly disrupted. She smiled nervously, a hand raking through her long blonde hair, before she continued, "Well...I'm sorry to interrupt your lunch. But...I was just wondering if I could maybe join you? If you didn't mind? This place is apparently popular." Her gaze left Regina to sweep the room.

Regina followed Emma's gaze, noting the full tables. She wasn't sure how she actually felt about sharing her table but she did know it wouldn't be appropriate for her to say no to the request. Looking back at Emma, she motioned with her hand to the chair across from her, "Go ahead and take a seat."

The relief on Emma's face was evident and she smiled brightly, pulling the chair out and dropping into the seat, setting the placard with her order number on the table. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Regina nodded. They stared at each other a long moment, it was verging on awkward when Regina finally looked down at her salad, picking her fork back up.

"Sooo…" Emma drummed her fingers against the tabletop, "Did they end up giving you one of the ugly yellow vests?"

Regina looked back up, forked poised over the lettuce. She wasn't sure why the question surprised her. Of course Emma would be compelled to speak. People didn't generally just sit in silence. Although Regina wouldn't really know. It wasn't as if she regularly dined with anyone. The only person who'd ever tried to sit at her table at the dinner she frequented regularly in Storybrooke was Sidney Glass from the Town paper - and she'd told him, and his uncomfortable advances, to go away in no uncertain terms. "Unfortunately, yes," Regina wrinkled her nose at the thought of the yellow vest she'd deposited in her car before coming to this diner for lunch - there was no way she was going to have such a hideous garment on her person for longer than was strictly necessary.

Emma chuckled lightly, "Sorry about your luck."

"Yes, well, I suppose wearing it is a sacrifice I'm willing to make in the name of volunteerism," Regina shrugged one shoulder.

Emma chuckled louder, her eyes twinkling, "How very noble of you."

Regina just smirked and then stabbed carefully at the lettuce in the bowl in front of her, bringing the bite up to her mouth, and chewing slowly, watching as one of the waitresses approached their table with a steaming hot beverage of some kind, topped with whipped cream and some kind of powder.

The waitress set the beverage down in front of Emma, who's eyes instantly lit up in delight.

"The grilled cheese will just be a few more minutes," the waitress informed Emma before slipping away.

Emma picked up the mug, blowing carefully on the contents before taking a sip, sighing contently. When she set the mug back down, Regina smirked in amusement.

"What?" Emma's nose crinkled as she caught the expression on Regina's face.

"You've got a little something…" Regina motioned with her hand to her own nose, instead of explaining that there was whipped cream on the tip of Emma's nose.

"Oh," Emma's eyes widened as she quickly reached for a napkin and wiped at her nose with it. "Is it gone?" she asked once she'd pulled the napkin away.

Regina nodded her confirmation.

"Thanks," Emma smiled.

They sat in a silence a few moments, Regina picking away slowly at her salad, Emma taking the occasional sip of her hot chocolate but mostly just using the mug to warm her hands. Regina didn't mind the silence but it seemed to make Emma uncomfortable and the longer they sat without speaking, the more she fidgeted.

"Sooo…" Apparently finally having enough of the silence, Emma spoke, "How come you're volunteering at the cancer centre?"

Regina's brow furrowed, her posture stiffening. Was this woman questioning her motives? Did Regina not seem like the kind of person who would volunteer her time? They'd barely even spoken, why would Emma assume that? Before Regina could snap something defensive in reply, Emma rushed to clarify.

"I mean, it's just that all the other volunteers are like seventy. And you seem very much not seventy. But maybe you just look really good for your age. Like really really really good," Emma shrugged, rubbing the back of her neck as she shot Regina a sheepish sort of smile.

Regina relaxed, quirking an eyebrow at Emma, "I'm not sure whether that's supposed to be a compliment or I'm supposed to be insulated, Miss Swan. I've never been compared to a seventy year old before."

"Most definitely a compliment," Emma assured, her cheeks tinging the slightest shade of red. "And call me Emma, please. Miss Swan makes me feel weird."

Regina shrugged, not agreeing to the request, but not denying it either. She tended to always refer to people by their last names out of habit. It was so much more professional. First names were too familiar. First names were intended for friends. And friends weren't exactly something she had. She hadn't wanted any when she'd first moved to Storybrooke. Her heartache had been too fresh. Back then she'd been too standoffish, too guarded, and eventually people had stopped trying. It had been what she wanted and yet, lately, she'd wondered often if her life might have been different if she'd approached those first years in Storybrooke differently.

"You haven't answered the question though. Is there a reason why you, a non-seventy year old, is volunteering at the cancer centre?" Emma tapped a hand against the table, "I mean…" she suddenly looked a bit nervous, "you don't have to say if it's like...personal, or whatever. I was just curious."

Regina didn't particularly like to answer personal questions, especially when she was being put on the spot. But this question, she supposed, wasn't actually all that personal, and Emma's expression was just so earnest that it was hard not to answer her. Besides, if she didn't answer now, Emma would think that her reason really was personal. Emma would assume that someone Regina knew, or more likely someone Regina loved, had had cancer, perhaps even had died from cancer. And even though that wasn't the truth, it might lead to some uncomfortable questions. Because someone she'd loved had died, just not from cancer. She tilted her head, considering her answer. What was the right way to say that she was doing it for the publicity? What would Kathryn want her to say? She settled for the truth, even if it was a truth that glossed over some of the details, "I wanted to volunteer somewhere. The cancer centre seemed as good of a place as any."

Emma tilted her head as she considered the response and for a second Regina thought she was going to prod further but then she just shrugged and picked up her mug and took a long sip of her hot chocolate.

A few more minutes lapsed in silence and then, once again, Emma seemingly felt the need to fill it. "So what do you do when you're not volunteering?"

Regina looked up from her salad, eyeing Emma uncertainly. "Are you asking what my job is?"

Emma shrugged, "Sure."

It was a strange response. As if Emma didn't actually know what she was asking but was perfectly content to accept whatever answer Regina would give her. It threw Regina and it took her a moment to respond, "I'm the mayor."

"Of Boston?" Emma's brow crinkled and Regina could practically see the wheels turning in her head. Emma, no doubt, trying to sort out why she didn't already know that.

"No," Regina couldn't help the amused smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth at the expression on Emma's face. She eventually clarified, "Of Storybrooke. It's a small town in Maine."

"Maine. Wow," Emma's baffled expression was replaced with a smile, "You've come pretty far, Madam Mayor. That's some real dedication to volunteer work."

Regina shrugged, "It really isn't that far away. Just a little more than an hour. Boston has the nearest major cancer centre."

"Wow," Emma said again, although Regina wasn't really sure what the 'wow' was about this time.

Whatever Emma might have been thinking though was lost as the waitress returned and set grilled cheese down in front of Emma. The blonde's green eyes lit up in delight at the food and she immediately picked up half the sandwich and dove in, eating as if this was the first food she'd had in days, or perhaps as if she was worried someone was going to come and steal it from her.

Regina couldn't help but think about how appalled her mother would be by these table manners. If Regina had ever eaten like that, she never would have heard the end of it.

Emma seemed to sense Regina staring at her because she looked up from her plate, mouth still full of grilled cheese and shot an expression across the table that clearly said 'what?'

Regina should perhaps feel embarrassed at being caught staring the way she was but all she could really feel was continued bafflement at the way Emma was eating. She quirked an eyebrow at the other woman, "Hungry, I take it?"

Emma looked confused a moment until her eyes widened slightly as they registered understanding. "Oh," she swallowed her last mouthful of food, suddenly looking embarrassed as she set her grilled cheese down and reached for a napkin, wiping at her face. "Sorry," she mumbled sheepishly, "I haven't eaten in like eighteen hours. I was fasting for a test that lasted way longer than I thought it would."

At Emma's clear embarrassment, Regina felt a sudden wave of regret at the tone she'd used. She shouldn't have been so judgmental. She should have held her tongue. She couldn't take it back now though. Worse, she was at a loss for what to say. She was curious about what kind of test Emma had had but it didn't seem polite to actually ask. She couldn't help but wonder again, as she had when she'd spotted the blonde last week, what someone so young was doing at a cancer centre filled with the elderly. Clearly she was a patient of some kind but other than that Regina didn't know what to assume. She seemed healthy.

"You can ask you know."

Regina froze, unable to hide the surprise or confusion on her face at Emma's words.

Emma tilted her head, her expression knowing, "What the test was for. Or maybe why, I, an also non-seventy year old, am hanging out in and around a cancer centre."

"You're not seventy?" The dry humour that came out in quick response was really a defense mechanism, a reaction to being so thrown off kilter by Emma's bluntness, at being called out on her inner thoughts. It bothered her that Emma had read her so easily.

"Ouch," Emma brought a hand up to her chest and feigned hurt, "I didn't realize I looked that bad."

"Or perhaps I just assumed you look really good for your age," Regina smirked, repeating Emma's line from earlier.

Emma shook her head, chuckling lightly. When silence fell over them once more, she eyed Regina curiously, "Sooo...you're really not going to ask?"

A voice in Regina's head, the curious one, screamed at her to just ask the question, the more predominate voice, however, reminded her that asking such questions of a stranger was inappropriate. "I wouldn't want to make you tell me anything you didn't want to," she said it softly, the sincerity in her voice readily apparent because that was actually the truth. She hated to be asked personal questions, only wanted to provide the information she wanted to provide, and extending that same courtesy to the woman sitting across from her seemed only fair.

Emma shrugged, poking at her grilled cheese, breaking off a piece and chewing on it slowly and swallowing. "I have Hodgkin's Lymphoma," she said as she tore another piece away from the grilled cheese. She said it like she was talking about the weather, like it was no big deal at all.

Regina knew, of course, that Emma must have cancer. It was the only explanation for her being at the cancer centre that really made sense. Yet at Emma's confirmation, she was surprised at the sudden wave of sympathy that settled in the pit of her stomach. She knew practically nothing about Emma beside her name but the whole thing still seemed unfair. "I-I'm sorry," she nearly grimaced at her own stuttering but managed to keep her expression neutral.

"Don't be. It's not as if you gave it to me," Emma shrugged, popping the torn piece of grilled cheese into her mouth.

Regina just stared, wondering how she could seem so blasé about the whole thing. Regina was fairly certain that if she had cancer she would be a basket case. And she certainly wouldn't be sitting in a diner discussing it calmly with a stranger.

Emma didn't seem bothered by Regina's lack of response. "The test today was just to sort some things out before I start treatment."

Regina nodded as she tried to figure out something at least semi-intelligent to say. "Will you be starting treatment soon then?" was what she settled for.

"Yeah, I guess…" Emma shrugged.

Regina set her fork aside, finished with her salad. Although she could excuse herself, for some reason she didn't. She told herself it was because it wouldn't be polite, not when Emma was still eating, not when Emma had just shared what she had, but a niggling at the back of her brain suggested that there might be another reason. She shut that voice up and instead chose to speak, "Now you know where I live and what I do for a living but I know very little about you. Do you live here in Boston?"

"Yep," Emma nodded, setting aside the last bit of grilled cheese in favour of picking up her hot chocolate and drinking the remainder of the liquid, "And I'm a bail bonds person. So now you know exactly the same amount of information about me that I know about you. So, it's fair, or whatever."

Regina quirked an eyebrow at Emma's 'or whatever' but she couldn't help but smile. She watched Emma a moment, trying to picture her chasing after degenerates, or whatever exactly it was a bail bonds person did. "That's quite dangerous, is it not?"

"Nah," Emma shrugged, her eyes twinkling in amusement, "Bail jumpers ain't got nothin on me." She flexed her arm, showing off her bicept.

Regina couldn't help the laugh that burst forth from deep in her chest and Emma grinned at her.

As Regina's laughter faded, Emma looked around the still busy cafe, "I guess we should probably let someone else have this table."

Regina's gaze followed Emma's and she couldn't help but agree. It wasn't right of them to occupy this table longer than necessary when the cafe was so busy. She felt strangely unhappy about having to go though. "Yes, we should."

"So...uhh…" Emma hesitated, "Maybe I'll be seeing you around?"

The question seemed strangely hopeful, although as Emma's focus returned to her plate, picking up the last bite of grilled cheese and popping it into her mouth, Regina wondered if maybe she'd just imagined the hopefulness. Why would anyone be eager to see her again? "Assuming my plans for continued volunteer work don't change...I'll look for you," Regina finally answered.

The response was rewarded with a smile, "Okay."

xxxxxx

Two days later, Emma was back at the cancer centre. Even though she knew it didn't make sense that Regina would be there - she doubted the woman would volunteer more than once a week at an establishment that was an hour away from her hometown - Emma couldn't help but scan the halls and the waiting room, looking for the other woman. She also couldn't help the twinge of disappointment she felt when she didn't see her. She wasn't sure why but there was something about Regina that Emma felt drawn to. Over the last few days, she'd thought often of their somewhat strange lunch. It had been oddly enjoyable, despite the fact that she was pretty sure she'd come across as a huge slob and bringing up her cancer had been pretty awkward. Regina with her almost formal manner of speech, and her carefully chosen words, and her beautiful but guarded eyes that didn't quite hide everything she seemed to want them to, was intriguing.

Sitting in one of the exam rooms in the hematology clinic, Emma tapped her foot as she waited nervously for Dr. Eldridge to enter the room. Belle had been in already to do a quick check of how Emma was feeling, which was no different than the previous week, and had promised that she'd be back with Dr. Eldridge shortly.

She wasn't left waiting too long and she bit her lip as the door swung open and the tall doctor appeared, followed by Belle who was carrying both Emma's chart and a thick looking stack of paper.

"Hi Emma," Dr. Eldridge held his hand out to shake hers, "How are you doing today?"

Emma accepted the firm handshake, shrugging one shoulder in response to his question, "I'm fine."

Dr. Eldridge smiled as both he and Belle settled into seats across from Emma, "Well, I'm sure you're anxious to hear the results of the tests you had done last week, so we'll forgo any more small talk and just jump right in…" he paused only long enough for Emma to offer him a small smile and then he continued, "Not much has changed since your scans a little over a month ago. All your previously enlarged lymph nodes are a little bigger but there are no new growths and your bone marrow was clean."

Emma let out the breath she'd been holding, nodding her head once to show her comprehension of her oncologist's words.

"That means we're still dealing with Stage 2," Dr. Eldridge supplied, "which means I'm going to recommend a chemotherapy regimen called ABVD."

ABVD? Like almost the alphabet but not quite? Emma wondered what had happened to C. She didn't have to wonder long though because Dr. Eldridge continued on.

"It's a four chemotherapy regimen consisting of Adriamycin, Bleomycin, Vinblastine, and Dacarbazine. These drugs are all given intravenously and they get administered in cycles. Each cycle consists of two different treatments spaced two weeks apart. So you would get a treatment and then two weeks later you would get the next treatment and then that cycle would be over."

Emma tried to keep up, gnawing on her lip as she listened. That overwhelmed feeling she'd felt during her first visit was rapidly returning as information was lobbed at her in what felt like rapid fire but was really probably a slow methodical pace.

"Belle has drug fact sheets for you to review and keep. They go over in depth the side effects both short and long term for each drug. But generally what you can expect is nausea, fatigue, and hair loss. For the nausea, we'll be giving you a few different medications that should help. We'll also be giving you some medication to help your kidney's for the first round, to combat something called tumour lysis, which occurs when a large amount of cancer cells die at once."

Emma took the stack of papers that Belle handed over as Dr. Eldridge continued on, glancing down at them briefly but quickly looking back up. If she lost track of the conversation now she would have no hope in hell of catching up - following along was already almost impossible.

"The other side effect you'll read about in those sheets is chemo-induced menopause. With ABVD the menopause is usually temporary and the risk of infertility is less than 5%. For those reasons I wouldn't recommend fertility preservation, mostly because it's a time consuming process and I'd rather not delay the start of your treatment any longer. That being said, if it's something that you feel strongly about, and the small risk of infertility is not one you're willing to take, then we can set you up with a fertility preservation clinic and you can have eggs frozen."

Emma's heart thumped loudly in her chest, the overwhelmed feeling nearly crippling now. She didn't even know if she wanted children. It certainly wasn't something she was prepared to think about or deal with now, even if she was essentially being forced to. Fertility preservation sounded expensive though and the risk did seem pretty small. "No," she shook her head, making the decision that required the least amount of thought, incapable of anything else right now, "I don't want to do that."

"Okay," Dr. Eldridge nodded, offering a small reassuring smile, eyeing her carefully, "I know it's a lot of information to take in but do you have any questions about anything I've said so far?"

"Umm…" Emma blinked rapidly as she tried to run through everything she remembered being told so far, "Well...the treatments...they'll just be here, right? I don't have to get them in the hospital?"

Dr. Eldridge nodded, "That's correct. You'll get all of your treatments out patient. On treatment days you can expect to be here for the better part of the day but you'll get to go home as soon as the infusion is complete."

"Okay," Emma nodded, relieved at least by that much.

"You can bring someone with you on treatment days if you'd like," Belle spoke for the first time, "It's a long day and patients often find that having someone with them helps." When Emma just stared blankly, the nurse added, "We also have a free volunteer service that will pick you up and take you home from your treatment if that's something you're interested in."

Emma frowned at that last statement. Would she not be able to drive? Emma didn't dare ask the question though, afraid to hear the answer. The idea of having to rely on some stranger to take her to and from her treatments bothered her. She would take her chances driving. Or, if it came to it, she would use public transportation. "I think I'll be fine," she finally mumbled out.

"Okay," Belle nodded.

"There's only a few things left to discuss, one of them being treatment duration," Dr. Eldridge picked back up, "With Stage 2 we usually go with four cycle of ABVD or three cycles of ABVD plus radiation. I'm going to set up an appointment for you to discuss the radiation option with Dr. West, our radiation oncologist. We'll get you in to see her in the next month but it's not too much of a rush since we don't need to make the decision until after you've finished your second cycle. At that point we'll redo the CT scan and the PET scan, and, depending on what those show, we'll reevaluate the treatment plan and make the decision regarding the radiation at that time." There was a brief pause and then he asked, "Any questions?"

Emma shook her head. Emma wasn't exactly sure what reevaluate the treatment plan meant but it didn't sound great. She didn't bother asking though - there was already too much information floating around in her brain.

"Okay," he nodded, "So that just leaves one more thing to discuss. As I mentioned previously, the chemo you are getting will be infused intravenously. These drugs can be pretty harsh on your veins, so I would like you to have a Port put in to avoid doing any damage to them. A port is a device that gets inserted under your skin and gets connected to a vein in your neck. It gets accessed using a special needle and can be used both for your infusions and to draw blood. The nice thing about a port as opposed to other intravenous devices like PICCs is that because it's inserted under the skin you don't have to worry about keeping it covered when you're showering."

They wanted her to get a what? Emma rubbed the back of her neck as she looked back and forth between Belle and Dr. Eldridge. "Umm…okay?"

"I know it sounds a bit scary but trust me, you'll be glad to have one. If you don't get one now, we'll likely just be having this discussion in a few months when your veins have had enough," Belle offered reassuringly, "And the procedure to have it inserted is quite minor. It's done with local anesthetic."

Still feeling uncertain, or perhaps just beyond overwhelmed now, Emma nodded slowly. "Okay," she repeated, this time the word sounding much less like a question, "When...umm...when would I get that?"

Belle looked down at the papers in her lap and then was the one to answer, "We've got an appointment scheduled for you for Monday morning to get the Port put in. Would that work for you? We want you to get it as soon as possible because we have your first chemo treatment tentatively scheduled for next Wednesday."

Emma blinked rapidly. Monday morning? As in three days from now? And chemo on Wednesday? After weeks and weeks of almost painfully slow progress, this it all seemed a bit rushed all of sudden. Shouldn't she get more time than that to prepare herself? What was the rush?

Sensing her hesitancy, Dr. Eldridge added, "We can reschedule if it doesn't work for you but as I mentioned before it really is important that we get started as soon as possible."

Emma rubbed her forehead, resisting the urge to sigh as she shook her head, "No, it's okay, that works for me."

"Good," Belle smiled that same reassuring smile, handing over another piece of paper for Emma to take, "That's got your appointment times on it. Usually on a chemo day you'll have lab work done, then come see us, then head to the chemo suite, but since it will be your first treatment and you've just seen us, you'll skip the lab and the visit with us on Wednesday. Instead, you'll start the day with Chemo 101. It's a little information session we send all of our newbies to. It will just give you a bit more information about what to expect during and after your chemo treatment."

Emma wasn't sure how she felt about this Chemo 101 thing, it sounded a little too much like school, but she just nodded. What other choice did she have? Ready or not, in less than a week's time she would be getting chemo.