"Dear, Emily. I know this is sudden and my writing is shit, but I didn't have much time to write this. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me. I mean that in every way possible. Through the years of useless chats, walking around the beach, and traveling together, you made me happier than I have ever been. I owe you so much but unfortunately can't do anything now besides write this terribly written note. More of a letter I guess? I don't know if I'll make it through these last few treatments, I need you to know something. You helped me live my life to the fullest, seriously, I felt a bit pointless and stubborn in this world until we met. Including when we first met. I don't want you to dwell on these things and I know you like to blame yourself for a lot of things but this isn't your fault. None of this is your fault. I want you to live the life I couldn't. Do something in the world and make a difference. Be the best fucking person you can be. Just don't forget me? Don't forget our first kiss or when we held hands for the first time. Cuddling for hours and talking about the stars and high gas prices, or even complaining about me taking up most of the bed. Remember my voice, because I know you hate that sarcastic tone I do when I'm irritated. I won't forget you, even if this whole thing doesn't work out and everything. Donate me to science or something. Maybe then my body could be of use besides well the obvious things. I'm getting off topic, but again, Emily I wanted to say I love you. I left a box of things for you back at my flat. It's under my bed and to spoil the surprise, it's something you can keep or discard depending on the circumstances. Don't forget to live your life, Ems, because that's what I'd want."
Emily stared at the scattered note in her hand that the nurse had given her. "W-When did she… w-write this?" Emily sniffed. The nurse sighed, clearly annoyed at the question. "Yesterday before you were escorted back to the waiting room." The nurse left her disconnected voice and looked back at her clipboard."When are visiting hours?" Emily folded the letter in her hand. She watched the nurse point to the sign. "No visiting hours on weekends." It was Saturday. "So you're saying I can't see my girlfriend until Monday?" The nurse nodded and chewed her pen annoyingly. "Yep, unless you're family." Emily's hands shook while gripped into a tight fist. "Her family is back in London. I'm her family!" Her legs shot up and she walked closer to the nurse, who only lifted her eyebrow at the shorter girl displaying anger.
"Not married. Not family." The nurse clicked her pen and turned around to walk through the nurse's only station. "Oh, fuck that!" The nurse waved her off. This hospital was a joke. A real fucking joke. Emily had completed all the paperwork. She was the only person here for Naomi and they were denying her because they were only partners. Only? They didn't know anything. They didn't know the girls would do anything for each other. They didn't know how much the two had been through. Just because they were dating. Emily shook her head. "Thought this place was supposed to be accepting," Emily leaned against the locked door and crossed her arms. Two days. That's why Naomi wrote the letter. She was to have two days of treatment before they couldn't afford it here. Before she might die. Before this was the last time they would see each other.
Emily rubbed under her bagged eyes and sluggishly made her way back to the waiting room chairs. The note unfolded and she peeked at the sloppy writing that Naomi always had when she was tired. It made her giggle, sadly, but giggle nonetheless. "God, this girl is fucking ridiculous," Emily wiped her teary eyes and continued reading over it again. There was more. How did she miss it the first time? Oh yeah, she was crying. Always crying.
"Remember when we were in Goa and we spent the night on the beach, wrapped in a shitty blanket with too much sand? And that crab that almost nipped at your swimming costume near your bum?"
Emily smiled, wiping the small tears that sat near the corner of her eyes. They traveled down the back of the page. A list. Not just any list. A list of all Naomi's favorite moments with her. Every single one, listed down to them simply talking on the phone the first time she went to New York to see what the job would be like. Each of their firsts, laid out in a timeline on paper right before her eyes. Scribbled smaller and smaller until the page was filled. Locked out of their car. Separated at a concert and finding each other on stage. Running up the rolling hills of Ireland until they collapsed under the large tree. Traveling through Wales and exploring the older castles. Biking in Amsterdam and finding the field of lilies that ran from almost every color.
The list went on and Emily reminisced alone. She didn't want to be alone now, but what could she do? It was a hospital. A hospital full of people with their own problems. She wasn't even the one suffering, but why did she feel so guilty and alone? The end of the note caught her eye, 'you're my lobster and always will be'. Emily held the note close to her heart.
The past few hours had been a complete painful blur. Naomi's head swirled and pulsated. Her body felt like a ten thousand stone weight on her lungs. Even with the oxygen set up, she felt like breathing was her hardest quality. Was this what it was like to die? The nurse said she made it through the night and that was a good sign. A good sign? Well, what about this night? This afternoon? This fucking hour? She could hear the wheezing and struggling noise being produced by her esophagus.
Nurses came in, they moved rooms, and set up another IV with the chemo treatment along side. "Can I have my hat?" Naomi shivered and the nurse stared at her like she was speaking another language. "Ball on the top, strands hanging down, colors?" She strained her voice and the new nurse looked back at the one that delivered Naomi to the treatment room. "I'll get the hat, get her started," the nurse blandly stated and walked out of the room slamming the door behind her. Naomi's ears rung, like a gunshot had just gone off. Her eyes squinted. The light in the room was too bright. "Open, say ah," the nurse flashed another light into Naomi's mouth and swabbed the inside of her mouth. "We have to test for typhilitis since you've been nauseous, fever, all the vomiting you've been doing." Naomi sighed once the nurse clamped the swab in a tube. "You're all so positive around here, aren't you?" Apparently the doctors in this hospital weren't used to such sarcastic individuals. The nurse ignored her question and ran the stethoscope under her gown and around her back. "Breathe in," Naomi followed directions. Poking and prodding until they were ready to move her to the actual chemotherapy room. The set her in a wheelchair and the nurse made it just in the nick of time with Naomi's hand. Not like she was rushing to please her anyway. Naomi finally was able to feel a bit of comfort. Her hat smelled like Emily's shampoo and the comfort of her old bed at home.
"Okay, Ms. Campbell, sit back," they stuck her arm with the needle and she sucked in with her teeth to ease the pain. The woman running the treatment obviously didn't know what she was doing. Missed needle pricks, about five times, before a vein was hit. The treatment made it easy for Naomi to bleed, "Uh… I'm going to need a bandage," she looked down with her sulking blue eyes at the needle pricks that were leaking small lines of blood. The nurse swore and stood up too fast, knocking the monitor down that held the medication Naomi needed. "You're fucking joking," she rolled her eyes and sighed. "Sorry, sorry, I'll get the doctor!" Naomi's jaw slipped open seeing her scurry out of the room while her arm was still dripping onto her gown.
"They're all idiots," Naomi looked over trying to keep her breathing steady. Another woman sat behind the curtain, pulling it aside. "Heather," she greeted her with a tiny wave since her arm was connected to the opposite machine. "Naomi," she cleared her throat and stared down at the drying blood on her arm. "Stage 4, you?" Naomi shook her head. She didn't want to compare illnesses with a stranger. "Here," Heather tossed her a thin towel and Naomi placed it on her forearm. "Cheers," she sat back staring at the shit storm of a destruction the stuttering nurse.
"There she is, sorry, I-" The nurse stuttered and the older doctor shooed her away. "Ms. Campbell? Sorry about the mess. New interns don't know what the hell they're doing." He lifted the machine and pulled the towel from Naomi's arm. "Few pricks, we can bandage that right away." He snapped his fingers behind him and the stumbling intern grabbed a wrap and bandage material. The older doctor set up the chemo treatment in seconds, which felt numbing pouring into Naomi's veins. She closed her eyes and too much time passed before she noticed her arm was wrapped up and the nurses were gone.
Heather was gone. The room was empty and she had nothing in her possession to keep her busy. Her tired thoughts and lonely spirals of depression that left her wanting to hop out the hospital window and head for the hills. If only she had the energy to do so. Naomi stared at the tube strapped to her forearm and touched the end of her skin. Numb. All numb. Her stomach felt empty. Her brain felt like mush. If there was one thing Naomi hated more than giving up, was her brain not catching up with her body. There would be another two hours of this, then another day, if she made it. At least she had her hat, but she lacked her Emily. She wondered if she got the letter she wrote. She wondered if the nurse mailed out her will per her request.
Naomi felt a tap at her shoulder. The nurse that delivered her before was back. "Is it over?" The woman shook her head. "You still have another hour, but we needed to tell you the good news. No infection and according to your charts," the woman flipped through the clipboard. "You're actually doing better. Better than your previous efforts back in England." Naomi squinted her eyes at her. How? How was she doing better? She felt absolutely worse. "So what are you saying?" She weakly stared up at the doctor, who was smiling for once.
"You'll be leaving tomorrow morning with your girlfriend. She's been sleeping in the waiting area, begging for visiting hours. Keep up the positive attitude." Naomi stared mindlessly as the woman left the room and shut the door quietly. Hope was a dangerous thing. Too many times had she been given false hope by doctors, people, family and friends. How was she supposed to believe that she was actually getting better? Enough to walk properly again? Enough to see Emily and smile, even if it was temporary. All of this felt so damn temporary. It was hard to get into the positive swing of things, especially without Emily there to help her along.
Naomi stared at the IV in her arm and bit her bottom lip. Why was she wasting time? Her teeth sunk into her lip and she pulled the drip out slowly. She would've done it faster, but her strength supply was low. Naomi huffed in a slight bit of pain, struggling at the feeling returning to her body. She felt labored while pushing her feet to the ground. The tile was cold and the sensation felt wonderful. Naomi felt like she was learning to walk all over again. Lucky the wheelchair wasn't far from her grasp. No IV, no oxygen hookup. She had to see Emily and tell her the news. "Okay, let's do this." She sighed and reached for the door handle, pushing it open enough to slip through with the last bit of push she had on the chair. Naomi looked down the hall reading what she could on the signs with her tired eyes.
"Brilliant," she muttered seeing the 'waiting room sign' at the end of the hall. Naomi pushed the wheels with the palm of her hands. Less effort with a wheelchair, why was she so stubborn before about this? There, she saw Emily's head slouched down looking at a magazine or paper? Naomi reached the window and knocked on the glass, catching Emily's attention after the third strike of her knuckle. Her eyes grew wide and a tucked smile formed on her face. Emily walked over, floating with every light step on the tile until she reached the window. Naomi flattened her hand against the glass and smiled. Emily slipped her hand on top of Naomi's, through the inch thick almost reflective material in front of them. Emily hadn't seen Naomi smile in a long time. "I'm going to be okay," Naomi spoke loud enough for Emily to hear the words echo against the glass. Her lower lip trembled. "R-Really…?" She mouthed and Naomi's eyes began to gloss over with tears."For now, yeah." The girls stared at each other, both smiling. Trying to smile at least. Emily was busy wiping her eyes from happy tears and Naomi was doing the same, only laughing. Just what she needed to see, Emily happy again.