Huzzah for reviews. I know some of you don't like the disclaimer... but I have to have it. Sorry!
Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Hetalia, or any affiliated licensed ideas.
Remember skin cancer is a big deal. And, if you have skin you can get skin Cancer. So lets be on top of those moles and freckles!
Please note, this is only a STORY, and should not be intended to cause offense in anyway.
OoOoOo
"I don't understand," The young woman said with a slight quaking of her voice. "It was just a little mole."
A nervous laugh breaks the air and her blue eyes are wide and frightened. Terrified even. The words seem foreign and impossible. This Doctor is just... a quack. That had to be it. But the sinking sensation tells her that she is wrong, and scared. It can't be. The words, those scary and hated words. They had actually been said. To her.
She...
"Ms. Jones," The Dermatologist sighs sadly. She can see in his eyes that he is very near tears himself.
"It was a freckle, really." She insists in denial. But, the pit of her stomach drops to her feet, proverbially speaking. "Right?"
The silence seems horrible as she is all but begging for him to be joking. He has to be kidding. He has to be! But, then again who kids about this sort of thing? Hot tears sting her eyes as her gaze searched his empathetic face. No. No, he has to be wrong. The stupid test has to be wrong.
"Right?" She asks again, quietly in disbelief. Her voice cracks at the simple question.
It takes all she has not to break out into a sobbing hysteria as his warm blue eyes look away from her and he shakes his head with a great deal of remorse.
"I am so sorry." He says softly, his French accent coming through as he reaches for her knee and places his hand on her gently. "But we need to talk about treatment options, now. I am recommending-"
Sorry? He's sorry? Why? Amelia doesn't understand. Her head feels like its in a fog. She hears the words he's saying but she simply cannot interpret them. She's not stupid, far from it. She knows what the words 'malignant' and 'melanoma' mean. It's curable. Just skin cancer. That was like, the least frightening form of Cancer. Or, well...
"I... This cannot be possible." She mutters to herself, shoving a hand through her hair. "It's... are you sure?"
His blonde hair catches the light as he clears his throat, nodding solemnly. Damn it! He was sure? Really, really sure?
"Yes, very sure. The pathology report confirms it. T3a malignant melanoma."
Suddenly, the walls seem like they are closing in, and Amelia finds herself laughing. Though it is far from funny at the moment. Amelia shakes, like a leaf in the wind, and stares at the Dermatologist with his flawless skin. His nearly seductive appearance, even as he is tearing her world apart -admittedly against his will-, and for a moment she is furious with him. How dare he? How dare this man with his coifed locks, and piercing blue eyes...
How dare he do this to her?
But, then reason returns and Amelia deflates in an instant. It wasn't like he had snuck into her room and shoved the tumor into her skin. No. She swallows, blinking at the tears start to trickle down her cheeks.
"What does that mean?" She asks, but the voice doesn't sound like it belongs to her. She feels almost like this is an out of body experience. This is someone else's life. A nightmare.
And, it is only just beginning.
Dr. Bonfoy, grimaces slightly, as he straightens in his chair.
"It means the tumor was 3.4 mm thick, without ulceration."
It sounded tiny, really. 'Mm', that was tiny. Certainly.
"3.4 mm? That's so small." Amelia replies feeling even more confused. "Without Ulceration, that's... good... right?"
What the hell does all this mean? Why does he look like he's about to bawl? She feels the same, but its only skin cancer. He can just...
They can cut it out, right?
"Your chances are better without ulceration." He alludes uneasily.
A lump forms in her throat, tight and hot.
"Chances?" Amelia sits back in her chair, as tears spill over onto her cheeks. Without a word, Dr. Bonfoy proffers a tissue her way. "What the hell are you talking about? Chances? It's just skin cancer! Cut it out and be done with it."
The way his eyes tighten, tells her that this is more than some little ugly mole or freckle thing. Some insignificant tumor. Her head tilts back and she closes her eyes fighting the chills that spread up her arms. There is a spark of clarity. Or perhaps it was acceptance. A form of it, at the very least. That caused her to slowly open her eyes. Blue orbs locked with darker blue.
"I'm... I'm only 19."
His jaw clenches and he nods again.
"I know, Ms. Jones. I know." There is true misery in his gentle statement. Some part of her is grateful for that. The silence stretches between them, vast and unending. Finally, with an unsteady breath, Amelia gives him a questioning glance.
"You mentioned treatment options?" Her voice is hollow. She straightened in the chair, trying to appear every inch of the adult she now was. However, all she wanted was the comforting arms of her mother.
Oh Lord. How was she supposed to tell her parents? Dread coursed through her veins, filling her was a second wave of shock.
The Dermatologist squeezes her knee. A gentle gesture. The slightest grimace appears on his face, before he masks his expression carefully. Clinically.
"We need to remove wider margins of the surrounding skin, and do a satellite node biopsy. As soon as possible. I also need to schedule you for a CT and PET scan."
More terms. Words without meaning, but they sound horrifying and she hasn't even done anything yet. Amelia nods, not knowing what else to do. Her hands shake and she feels cold, suddenly. There is no one here to comfort her. Mattie is at University and so far away. How was she supposed to tell him? What was she supposed to say?
"What does that mean?" Amelia asks a bit helplessly.
"I am going to refer you to a melanoma specialist. They will want to preform scans and see if the melanoma has metastasized-"
"Metastasized?" She echoed, feeling a surge of terror. "You mean, spread?"
"Yes."
A straightforward answer. And her world drops out from under her.
"You can't just cut it out?"
"No. At least, not until we know just how far the cancer has traveled."
"Where could it even go?" She asked, truly unaware.
"Everywhere."
It is ominous. And she feels her stomach clench tightly as a wave a nausea overtakes the sudden strange sounds of rapid breathing that permeate the room.
"How bad is this?"
He doesn't answer. But the silence is answer enough. Maybe skin cancer, wasn't 'just' skin cancer.
"I might die, is that what you are saying?"
Technically, he hadn't said much of anything because she kept cutting him off. Amelia was furious. This wasn't freaking fair! She hadn't... she hadn't really had the chance to do much of anything. Now she might die? No. No, she was going to beat this. Her blue eyes turn slightly hard as she stares at the Doctor.
"Okay, so scans and surgery? Maybe more," she shrugs slightly trying to boost herself into bravery. "What else?"
The French doctor, gives her a timid smile then.
"You're a fighter," he announces with a sincere look about him. "I can tell."
And, somehow, that helps her hear what he has to say.
OoOoOo
She meets Dr. Beilschmidt, three days later. Some blonde, smoking hot surgeon, that makes her feel even more grotesque. As he explains just how large the incision is going to be. Just how many lymph nodes he will have to take. Dr. Beilschmidt tells her about lymphedema. How she will need a drain kept inside her body to drain out the excess fluid into a bag.
Blindly, she nods along. Amelia tells him she understands, and she does. Yet, who can truly know what will happen before it does? Matthew... Matthew was coming to stay with her. He promised he would be out on the next flight available. Which was in two days. His violet gaze was tinged red, when she'd broken down calling him on skype. They had cried together as Amelia pleaded with him to see a dermatologist as well, and to not freak out yet.
Which hadn't worked well for either of them.
She hasn't been handling the news well. Honestly, Amelia was more in survival mode. She was drifting through her days in a fog. She signs the slip of paper that allows him to operate on her. Turns out he is a surgeon in training. That doesn't make her feel any better, but someone has to teach him. The fully-fledged surgeon will be watching over his shoulder. He will remove 5 lymph nodes from her body. To check them all for melanoma. Best case scenario, it hasn't spread.
Worst case...
They all knew what it was, but she listened anyway as he rattled off courses of treatment, which she would follow up with her Oncologist.
Worst case, it had spread and she was looking at multiple 'mets'. New tumors that had been thrown off from the original, and could end up anywhere. Her lungs, bones, brain, joints, other lymph nodes, spleen, intestines, rectum, and every other place considered near devastating.
And, the good news kept going. Radiation and chemo didn't work on Melanoma. Interferon had questionable success and was not proven to truly help with remission. Only experimental trials were possibilities for treatment. And, those she had to qualify for. There was always the chance she might not be approved for any of them. They had to tell her that.
Amelia hates that as much as she is trying to psyche herself up to thinking this could turn out alright... they have to throw the truth in her face. God. She wanted Mattie. Or anyone, really, that was tell her it was all going to be 'okay'. Even if it wasn't. Even if they had to lie to her. That was all she wanted right now.
OoOoOo
Mattie holds her hand. So tightly, she is nearly concerned that something might break, but at the same time the pain in her hand is nicer than the one sewn into her flesh. The large incision looks disfiguring, but everyone assures her that it will heal well. Amelia doesn't believe them, not really. To her, it looks like she was attacked by a wild animal, or a shark of some sort. It makes her swallow tears of shame and rage whenever she glimpses it. She can see the way the flesh is pulled, taut and angry. They had been forced to take a skin graft from another area.
Taking more than they had originally planned... it worries her greatly.
But, despite that, she was hopeful that maybe it hadn't spread to the lymph nodes.
However, the sweet Australian oncologist is pulling the rug out from under her again. His green eyes are concerned and hardened. He's likely had to do this thousands of times. She feels a flash of pity for him, even as her world is crumbling around her. The scans revealed further possible involvement. They had to take more lymph nodes than originally planned.
Amelia starts to hate the phrase with a passion. Why do they have to tell her that? She knows they have to, but it makes her feel a swell of impotent fury at the words. What the hell is that actuall plan then?
He clears his throat, continuing on. He states that there was active melanoma activity past the 'satellite' nodes.
Which was the reason for her higher discomfort. Out of the 27 lymph nodes removed, 13 had been positive for melanoma at biopsy. Some showed visible signs, others had not. It indicated the higher likelihood of 'mets'. However, none had appeared on scans. The kind oncologists starts speaking of 'options' and 'trials'. But, all Amelia sees is time slipping through her fingers.
Precious time.
Amelia cries, and Mattie holds her, stroking her hair. He tells her that they can 'handle' this. That she isn't going to die. In her heart, she wants desperately to believe him. yet, insecurity and fear tighten their hold on her until she cannot form words. Her free hand clutches desperately at his shoulder, as she sobs. Mattie promises he will tell mom, because Amelia can't find the strength to do it.
She can't say the words yet.
She simply... can't.
OoOoOo
Amelia lives at the hospital. Sometimes.
She spends a few days every week getting her experimental treatment. It is a living hell. If the nausea and chills don't get her, the bone searing pain will. She thinks as they inject another terrifying looking substance into her that she cannot name.
It would be a joke just to pretend she could actually spell it. That's all they have for her. Experiments. She's grateful, but so damn tired and afraid. But, she smiles. She has to smile. Everyone she known and loves watch her as if she's about to implode on them at any moment. Amelia cries enough for all of them, when no one watches. She wipes away the tears and puts on a brave face.
Because Mattie and Mom need her too.
She doesn't blame them. Amelia isn't upset with them at all. She understands. Its just exhausting. Some days, she honestly is upbeat and happy. Other days... well... other days she wants to give up. She wants to stop. Because it hurts and she doesn't even know if its working. Yet, each treatment, and check up they tell her to push forward. To not give up.
There comes a day, when she believes them. And, she is grateful for the pushing that annoyed the hell out of her just three weeks ago. Everything tastes off or wrong, but coffee is still bitter water. So, she drinks it down, hoping to quell the pain in her stomach. Her blue eyes watch over the rim of the Styrofoam cup. Staring at the other people in the waiting room. They all have melanoma, like her.
Most are older, but some are as young as she is. Its a strange sort of comfort. She wouldn't wish this on her worst enemy, but it is nice... not to be alone. The other patients are both genders, and every possible ethnicity. So, it doesn't just happen to one demographic. After all, she surmised nearly sadly, if you have skin it makes sense you can have skin cancer.
Passing by the glass, she sees a familiar head of blonde hair. In green-ish scrubs. The colors must mean something, she thinks absently, as Dr. Beilschmidt turns his head slightly. Their blue gazes meet and hold for a moment. Amelia smiles then, purely on reflex. She is grateful to the surgeon that did her first surgery, of course she is, but she hasn't seen him since.
He pauses for a moment, in his stride, and blinks at her. Amelia quirks a brow in amusement and shakes her head. He probably doesn't even remember her. Its been months since then. His handsome features take on an appearance of a deer in a headlight and she snorts into her cup.
Doctors.
OoOoOo
The oncologist warns her that though her tumors have not grown, they have not exactly shrunk either. For now, she's in a holding pattern. Mattie clutches her hand at the news. His violet eyes are strained as he tries to smile. It is brittle. Bitter.
Amelia understands. Though it hurts her slightly. Her world is being shattered again. But now, as an icing on the cake, she's told that her seemingly endless living hell of treatments have just pushed 'pause' on the growth. She wants to feel something other than disappointment, but it is incredibly difficult. Honestly, it is. Everyone tells her how she should be grateful, and she is... to some extent.
However, it has taken a toll on her body. The scars are there. Visible and she shies away from the mirrors. Her family points out that it's great she still has her hair. Amelia knows its brittle and thin now. Her skin is unnaturally pale and she has lost so much weight that she doesn't appear anything like she used to. In short, she hates that her body makes her feel like a stranger from how she was.
She just wants to feel like a woman again, and not like a Guinea pig on the chopping block.
But, at the hospital and the office she makes friends. They call it a 'support group'. She calls it a chance to keep her sanity. These people understand, and confessing her fears won't terrify them the way it would her family.
In the halls, every Thursday, she sees the same blonde surgeon. Amelia makes a point to smile at him. Once or twice, she waves as he passes by.
Today, however, he alters the routine, by actively stopping in front of the window, and giving a small wave to her. Their eyes locked and Amelia couldn't explain why she blushed.
OoOoOo
"I have cancer," she says, knowing very well that he is aware of her case.
A faint, dull, red flush appears on his cheeks and his sharp blue eyes look away for a moment. Then he glances back at her with a nearly shy expression.
"Even cancer patients must eat, yes?"
Jaded blue eyes watch him from behind corrective lenses.
"They do," she acknowledges. "But cute surgeons normally don't ask out their patients."
She can't help but point that fact out. She's flattered. She scared. And, more terrified of dying alone than he could ever even begin to guess. Dr. Beilschmidt looks down and she notices that he is toeing his shoe on the ground.
"But, you are not my patient anymore," he points out.
That was true. Her biopsies and lymph node removals were all finished for the time being. Amelia feels her heart pound in her chest. It is painful, but nothing compared to everything she has endured already.
"I could die," she tells him them. Without mercy or meanness. It is simply a fact. A glaring, sad, fact.
"We all will eventually," the surgeon reasons.
That makes her smile, and Amelia shakes her head in amusement.
"This is probably, hands down, the worst possible time to fall in love with someone."
"Not for me."
That does make her laugh.
"Why?" She asks and it spans a width and breadth of emotions with individual questions of their own.
He takes a deep breath, the kind that makes a sound, as he shifts nervously.
"Because, I really like you."
"Me?" She asks, arching a brow. "The woman dying from skin cancer?" Her blue eyes dart around. "I think you could make a better choice."
There is wry amusement in the moment, but also the want to spare him the sadness. The heartache. But her heart treacherously hopes. She wants to know what its like to fall in love. Just once.
Just... in case...
"I've made my choice." He replies easily, with a charming grin.
Amelia grins at that. These surgeons. Such stubborn and God-complex people. But, that confidence had gotten her through some downright horrid odds.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay." She confirms again, nodding. "One date."
He smiles then, and it was a show stopper. The way his features transformed before her very eyes. Amelia wished she had met him sooner, or maybe later... if she... when she made it. Yeah.
When she made it. They could have something, couldn't they? Briefly, her mind entertains the possibility of a future.
"What is your first name, by the way?"
"Ludwig."
She repeats it, tasting it on her tongue. It feels oddly... right.
For a moment, just a single and precious moment, she feels like life is bright again. As if her whole life doesn't hang in the balance of scans and modern medicine. She laughs, wondering how this crazy chance came about.
"You seriously want to date a chick with cancer?"
He shakes his head and she watches him mutely.
"No, I want to date you." He affirms.
"You're crazy, you know that right?" Amelia asks, arching a brow at him.
"Probably, but I blame med school for that."
She smiles then, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes.
"Makes sense," she answers for lack of anything else to say. His blue eyes are on her, and she doesn't feel the same difference in their appearance as she once did. He's looking at her as if she's beautiful and it almost makes her hurt. Uncomfortably, she rubs at her arm.
"So," Ludwig fills in the silent space. "Cafeteria food or coffee?"
"What?"
"Cafeteria food or coffee?" He repeats patiently. "I only have about an hour before I need to get back."
She blinks at him owlishly.
"You want to have a date now?"
He smiles at her nearly bashfully.
"Why not?" He questions, looking at her expectantly.
She opens her mouth, but something resonates with his simple question. 'Why not'? She didn't have a reason not too. Why not now? Why not today? Why not take the chance? Amelia looks down, and then back up.
"Coffee." She sputters out, feeling impulsive and strangely alive. Being able to be the woman she is. To do what other women were able to do.
His blue eyes capture hers in a nearly mesmerizing gaze.
"I was hoping you'd say that." He says with a smile as he reaches for her hand. As if he has every right to hold it. His skin slides over hers and she clasps at the warmth he provides as if it is a life line.
And her heart skips a beat, but not from fear this time.
Today... today she could find something that Cancer couldn't touch. And, oh... how she wanted it.