Putting this out there now: I'M SORRY THIS CHAPTER IS SO BORING. Think of it more like an interlude. Basically I am doing a version of camping for the next few days so I'm hoping I'll have lots of time to write with limited internet access, but for now, this is what I could get out.
Little FAQ: No, I have never myself had cancer. I do lots of research for this story, so I hope it comes through!
I have, however, had too many people around me who have had cancer, including my immediate family, so I also rely on their experiences a bit
People who have never smoked absolutely can get lung cancer, frighteningly enough.
While there are two main procedures for lobectomies, and the more minimally invasive, video assisted one is used more and more frequently, I used the other one in here.
This is one long interlude. Again, no idea how long this story will be.
Enjoy, and please leave a comment!
Sometimes I feel like
I've never been nothing but tired
And I'll be working 'till the day
I expire
(~~~~~~~~~)
Surgery is scheduled for Wednesday at 7am, the earliest they can get her in. The children refuse, flat out refuse, to go to school that day, but Eliza tells them they will be going.
She will not have them standing on some kind of death watch.
(the word makes all of them flinch).
Really, she insists, it will be a minor surgery. They will only keep her for a few days at most. The children should go to school, and Alex should to go work.
(That he refuses, and she knows better than to expect him to budge)
The children finally agree to go to school, if Alex promises to pick them up the second school is over, and let them come to the hospital to say goodbye to their mother before she goes under.
Again, Eliza's bravery stuns Alexander. The morning of, she rises as if it were a normal day. The children get dressed somberly, but she keeps her usual routine up, fixing them breakfast, brushing crumbs off William's school uniform and licking her hand to fix James' hair back into place (he still squirms away and they are all grateful for this bit of normalcy).
Eleven-year-old John grabs Eliza's hand as they go from the car to the hospital, joined quickly by seven-year-old William.
Eliza smiles at her children. They cling to her, even as she signs herself in, changes into a shapeless gown ("fetching, Mrs. Hamilton," Alex remarks, and she slaps his arm good-naturedly), and lies down on a gurney.
Clearly, the gurneys were not made to accommodate Hamilton-sized families, because every child climbs on beside their mother, and the gurney groans under the added weight.
Eliza laughs and allows them to stay for a few moments.
The second the doctor comes in the room, however, the slightly cheered atmosphere deflates. The children instinctively grab onto their mother, as if the doctor is coming to kidnap her.
She squeezes each of their hands, and tells them gently to climb down, and go to school. She adds that they should not worry about her, but he knows they will. The youngest children cry, and she gently uses her gown to wipe their tears.
"None of you worry," she repeats. "I won't have anyone falling apart on account of me. It's just a minor surgery, and I'll see you tonight."
She gives each one last kiss (even Alexander Jr., who actually tolerates it). It's a bad day for Angelica, so she still cringes when their now-oldest says she will have Philip drive her to school, and nearly runs out, chasing someone that isn't there.
(Someone fetches her as soon as she exits the door, but the damage has been done).
Alex arranges the children's ride to school, and then it is time to go to the operating room.
No matter how many people he threatened, he has not been able to force his way into the room.
However, he is allowed to hold her hand as she is wheeled to the operating room (they've been doing that a lot lately). She lies still, and he kisses her forehead as he opens the doors.
He is still marveling at how brave she is, how panicked he would be in this situation. So he's shocked when he goes to pull away and her hand seizes his. Her eyes catch his and they are full of tears.
It is so like his wife to hold herself together, sometimes he forgets that she falls apart sometimes too.
"Alexander," she breathes on a sob, and it's all she can say, but he doesn't need words to know how terrified she is. Her hand clutches his desperately.
"Hey, hey, hey." he says in a voice that he hopes is soothing. He lowers his forehead to touch hers and takes on her tactic of gently stroking her hair.
He doesn't know what to say, truly doesn't, to comfort her. He's never been good in situations like this.
Which is why it's a shock to all of them, when he starts softly singing.
"There used to be a greying tower alone on the sea
You became the light on the dark side of me"
And it is entirely worth it, because her face lights in a smile.
It was their wedding song. A bit of a running joke, as they danced to it a few times while they were dating, and both found it a bit schmaltzy and sentimental. It actually made it onto the list of songs not to play at the wedding, but whoever was in charge of the music had apparently not been given the memo, because it ended up being the song for their first dance.
As soon as it had come on, they had both laughed, a kind of private joke between them, which only made it a better memory, in his opinion, as he recalled the guests looking at them in puzzlement.
He had stood by her and given a dramatic bow, extending his hand.
That first dance, that song, had become a hallmark for them.
So when he sings it now, he can actually see the tension melt from her.
Love remained a drug that's the high and not the pill
But did you know that when it snows
My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen?
Slowly, as they wheel her to the operating room, her hand slips from his.
(~~~~~~~~~)
He makes his way to the waiting room. He finds only a few people there, considering the early hour, and he's grateful.
Alexander flops into a chair, his head in his hands.
The others around the room share a look with him, and he realizes. They are the same now. They are all here together, useless, while their loved one fight an invisible enemy. He is not a senator here, he is just a husband.
They all wait for a doctor to deliver the fate of their most loved.
His comes two hours later and introduces himself as Doctor Nam, an oncologist. He says the surgery went well. They were able to get most of the tumor, and this will help target chemo and radiation (those are words that still seem like they shouldn't be applied to Eliza. Someone so kind and gentle should not have to know words so forceful and frightening). The doctor tells him that she has been moved to recovery, but her body is strong and they will begin treatment in a few days.
He asks to see her.
He finally answers the four texts from James and tells him that he is going to see his mother, and he will pick him up at the scheduled time ("Remember Dad, school ends at 3:05. You better be pulling in by 3. I want to be in the car by 3:06" his son texts back)
He steels himself as he prepares himself to see Eliza.
It's not enough.
Her side is swathed in bandages. At stage three; they needed to through her side, past her ribs. Because they took a piece of her lung out, they have her on a ventilator to assist her breathing. Her black hair spreads over the pillow; her eyes are closed as a machine breathes for her.
And while Alexander has promised himself he will not cry, he feels tears well anyway.
She looks so small there. So helpless.
He spends the next few hours by her side, though she doesn't wake. One handedly, he reads through a few bill proposals, the other hand tucked into his wife's. He disentangles himself only momentarily, to respond to a few emails.
Around 2:30, he knows he has to leave but he can't begin to make the trip. He consoles himself with having given every single nurse and doctor within a five-foot radius his personal cell number and very specific instructions to call him if she so much as moved. (he backs this up with a very thinly veiled threat concerning how many hospital directors he knew). When he was reassured to the point of "even a finger twitch, we call you", he gives her hands a last squeeze and goes to collect his children.
Alex Jr., John and James go to the same middle and high school, and he sees them before school has officially let out, waiting with their hands poised over their lockers to the second the bell rings. He'll find out later that they had actually strategized this plan to take as little time as possible, so their bags are packed and ready, and the second the bell rings he is being dragged to his own car by his three oldest sons. Angelica's teacher shepherds her out and hands Alex her backpack, but apparently not quick enough, because one of his sons grabs it and one of Angelica's arms, another son grabs the other arm, and the last grabs Alex, and they are all forced to their car.
His sons have also googled the fastest route to William and Elizabeth's elementary school, and devised the quickest way to get to the kindergarten and the second grade.
Alex loves how much they love their mother, and it is evidenced by how they bombard him with questions on the trip to the hospital. Truthfully, he doesn't have many answers, but he does warn them what seeing their mother might be like.
The children have only ever known Eliza as strong and capable, so he knows seeing her on a ventilator will be hard.
He considers waiting until she is off, but that niggling voice at his subconscious reminds him that they may see worse as time goes on.
He tells his sons and daughters that Eliza is expected to wake tomorrow, and they may see her after school, but for now, she is asleep. They can still talk to her, but she wont respond.
He is never more proud of his children then when the oldest boys take Angelica's hands and John scoops up Elizabeth and holds William's hand. They will stick together. He and Eliza (mostly Eliza) raised some great kids.
She is indeed still out when they get in. He hears Angelica suck in a gasp, to be comforted by her brothers. Most of them step back, their hands over their mouths, and for long moments there is silence in the room.
Then Alex Jr. steps forward.
Alexander Jr. is his oldest son. He fits the role of oldest perfectly, though he is not technically the oldest child. He is strong, a leader, rarely shows any emotion but is tender with all his siblings. He reminds Alex very much of himself.
So it's no surprise now that he gently leads his group of siblings to their mother's bedside and sits down, mindful of the chest tubes protruding from her wounds. He picks up Elizabeth and sets her on the bed.
"You can talk to Mommy," he assures his youngest sister. "See that tube there in her mouth? Mommy had a hurt on her inside and the doctors took it out. The tube is helping the inside of her body get better."
He addresses Elizabeth, but Alexander suspects he is speaking to all of them.
Elizabeth's little hand touches the tube gently, then comes to rest on her mother's cheek.
"What about this tube?" she indicates the chest tube.
"That takes all the bad stuff out of her body," Alex Jr. assures her.
"Oh," Elizabeth accepts this with all the assurance of a three year old. "Hi, Mommy. Guess what I did in school today?"
Slowly, surely, the others come forward, until once again, the bed is filled with Hamilton children, and their father in the doorway, watching the scene in front of him with a soft smile.
(~~~~~~~~~)
Breathe
Just breathe
Take the world off your shoulders
Put it on me.
See that was almost like fluff, wasn't it?! And vintage Seal, because I could totally picture that in my mind. Fun story: when I googled 90s love songs, some interesting choices popped up, including but not limited to "Baby One More Time", and "Baby Got Back". So romance. Very love.