It wasnât anything about . . . Daniel, was it?â
âNo. Oh no,â I said, amazed at myself for that possibility had not occurred to me, âjust almost as bad.â
Not much later, I sat by the phone and steeled myself to pick it up. Much depended, I thought, as Maisie cast herself across my lap, rolling onto her back and peeping coyly at me from underneath her right foreleg, on saying the right thing. But what was the right thing? What do you say to somebody who has just been told he has a life-threatening disease?
You must have been sitting by the phone, for your voice cut off the first ring.
âCan you talk?â I asked immediately. âAre the kids around?â
âNo, theyâre watching the box.â
âTell me, exactly what sent you to the doctor in the first place?â Cautious, feeling my way.
âJust feeling tired. All the time, for no reason, but absolutely flattened if I went running. Then I started getting these huge bruises, but I could never remember hitting myself or bumping into things. And nosebleeds! Real gushers. I havenât had nosebleeds like that since I was small. But it was chiefly the exhaustion, aching in every joint.â
I could hear it in your voice, monotone, dreary, as if even inflection were too much effort.
âOkay, now what exactly have you got?â
âOh, itâs got a grand-sounding name. Acute myelogenous leukemia.â
âSounds bad enough to scare the living daylights out of anyone.â
âWell, Liv, itâs not good. Bloody death sentence, in fact.â
âBut they can treat it, right?â
âOh yes, they can stretch things out a bit with chemo and stuff, but itâll just postpone the inevitable a few years.â
âAnd if they did nothing?â
âThree or four months.â
That hit like a punch in the stomach.
âThen itâs worth a fight, isnât it?â I asked sharply. You hesitated. I could hear it.
âIâm not sure, Liv. Iâve only got about a twenty to thirty percent chance of long-term survival. Not very good odds. And Iâd need a bone marrow transplant. I donât even know if thatâs possible yet. I donât know if itâs worth putting Holly and the kids through all that, years of it perhaps, when I could just check out in a few months.â
âHey!â I said. âDonât you think Holly and the kids might have different thoughts about losing you the day after tomorrow? I stuck around for you, kiddo; now itâs your turn. You said youâll probably need a bone marrow transplant. Well, Iâm the likeliest donorâsiblings are the best bet, I thinkâand Iâm ready and willing, so there you are.â
âYeah, I know Iâll go through all the treatments they can dream up. You do, donât you, if thereâs just a little bit of hope, but it doesnât stop the little voice inside saying, âWhatâs the use? You know nothingâs going to work. Youâve had it, mate.â Itâs hard to ignore. There doesnât seem much to look forward to.â
What do you say? You canât agree, can you?
âPerhaps youâre being too long-sighted. Perhaps you have to be a bit myopic, and look at the nearer things if you want to see clearly. What I mean is, perhaps it would be better to look forward to Jason going into high school soon, rather than graduating from med school fifteen years from now. Lower your sights, you know. Fill your life with little steps rather than brooding over the big ones that might be unattainable.â
âCould be.â
âSo your first one will be telling Holly. And donât forget to say Iâm queuing to donate.â
âOkay.â
âThen the next one will be having the first lot of treatment. Whatâs on the cards?â
âChemo.â
âSo the first milestone could be remission after the
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