“A story is about a single moment in a character’s life when a definitive choice is made, after which nothing is the same.”
John L’Heureux
The week of December 15th started like most weeks for Lucia Baker but later, looking back on the holiday season of 2010, she realized that nothing would ever be the same for her. True, the week was packed with more performances than usual, but it was the holidays and top notch musicians were in high demand during the holidays. And, yes, yesterday’s argument with Ri was atypical but Ri found the holidays hard so, hopefully, that’s all it was. Holiday blues. Their relationship was precious to Lucia and she was sure that Ri felt the same way. Sure, that is, until yesterday’s blow up. But, then, it was the holidays…
“Hey, Ri,” Lucia grabbed her raincoat and, glancing out the window, caught a glimpse of children playing in the park ten floors below. “I’m off to a Nutcracker rehearsal at Keller and then I’m out again tonight for the performance. If you’re still up when I get home tonight let’s connect. We’ve been passing like ships in the night lately.”
Rianne, still in her granny nightgown and blue fleece robe, glanced at Lucia as she poured coffee into a green holiday mug and eased into their cozy breakfast nook. “Not sure if I’ll be awake at 11:00 but, if not, please wake me. I’ve missed not seeing you.”
Lucia, one hand on the door knob, looked back over her shoulder. “You’re running late, she said, “Come to think of it, you’re moving like you’re in pain. You okay?”
“Stomach’s off. Been like that for a couple of days.” She pushed her unruly blonde hair out of her eyes and pulled her robe more tightly around her. “Must be something I ate. Go ahead, though. I’m sure it’s nothing. I already called the paper and said I’d be a little late.”
“You sure? I could run out and get you something,” Lucia offered. “I’ve got time.”
“I’m sure.” Rianne dismissed her with a wave so, with Ri still in her thoughts, Lucia slipped on her raincoat, freed her long brown curls from its grip and, violin case in hand, began the two block trek to Portland’s Keller Auditorium.
Since literally colliding with each other in the halls of Julliard during Lucia’s sabbatical, the two had gone on to launch successful careers while maintaining a tenuous long-distance relationship. Finally, two years ago, at Lucia’s invitation, Rianne had pulled up roots and joined Lucia in Portland. As different as the two were, Lucia the introspective accomplished violinist and Rianne, the drama queen, wannabe writer, whatever clicked that first day held promise for both of them. Rianne called it love at first sight. Lucia preferred to call it exploring a potential relationship.
Once at Keller, Lucia made her way to the stage entrance and down into the orchestra pit where Oregon Ballet Theater’s musicians were tuning up for the final dress rehearsal. Dissonant strains of pre-rehearsal warm-up filled the hall while brightly colored sugar plums and stately toy soldiers playfully leapt across center stage.
“Hey, Luce,” Eric Kreitzer, her first chair partner and self-appointed older brother, greeted her. “You gonna make the after concert party? Should be fun and the dancers really want the musicians to attend.”
“Shit.” Lucia lowered her instrument and scrunched up her nose. “I forgot. I promised Ri we’d get together after the performance and I’ve already disappointed her once this week.”
“So, bring her. She’s more the party-girl than you are.” Eric slugged her playfully on the shoulder. “Ri’d love it.”
“Okay, Okay. I’ll ask her.” Hating that Eric, could so easily read her, she continued. “Tell me, again. Where’s the party?”
“Hilton. Just across the street.” A mischievous smile spread across his face. “See, no excuse. Just roll across the street and have Ri meet you there. Piece of cake.”
Eric Kreitzer, accomplished violinist and co-first chair with Lucia, had moved to Portland two years ago and had quickly taken Lucia under his wing, functioning both as musical mentor and safe, wise friend. Five years older than her forty-one, Eric was the seasoned musician that Lucia yearned to be and the combination of Lucia’s virtuoso talent and Eric’s wisdom and business savvy made them an enviable duo. For Lucia, however, Eric’s ability to see through her was both a blessing and a curse.
A signal from Conductor Yoshida interrupted their discussion and Lucia, as concert mistress, stood and sounded the tuning “A.” An expectant hush fell over the theater and a chill of pre-performance jitters shot through the performers. Tonight a cast of over one-hundred dancers and musicians would be bringing the story of Christmas to life for three thousand Portlanders. Grateful for her gift and for the joy it brings to others, Lucia positioned her bow, and awaited the drop of the maestro’s baton.
# # #
Several hours later, Lucia checked the time and frowned. The rehearsal had lasted longer than she’d expected and she’d be hard-pressed to accomplish her “to do’s” and get back in time for the performance. They had, however, smoothed out last minute glitches so she figured the time was worth it. She packed her violin, assured Eric that she’d check with Ri, and, with dread of the party lingering, she headed home. Lucia hated parties. But she also hated disappointing people.
As she crossed SW Market in route to their Harrison street condo, she glanced up at what she decided was a snow sky. How perfect, she thought. Ri’s snow. Ri, a New Yorker at heart, still missed the New York winters as well as the holiday celebrations that were a part of her family tradition. Lucia’s thoughts returned to tonight’s party and she smiled. If she didn’t say anything, Ri’d never know about the party and they’d have their quiet evening together.
Problem solved, Lucia entered the condo, planning to attack her “to do”list with a vengeance. But, once inside she stopped short. Rianne, in tears, was curled up in fetal position on the couch clutching a round red pillow. Hearing Lucia, she looked up, her eyes pleading.
“Something’s really wrong with me, Luce.”
“God, Ri.” Lucia rushed to her.
“I can’t breathe.” Pasty white and struggling for breath, Rianne tried to sit up but pain pulled her back down.
“I’m calling an ambulance,” Lucia said. “You might be having a heart attack. Okay if I call an ambulance? I’ve got to do something.” Lucia, known to get rattled in times of crisis, threw her raincoat over the back of a chair and paced back and forth jabbering. “Oh, God,” she said as she dumped out the contents of her purse while searching for her cell.”
“Luce, stop. Chill. Put that phone down.” Once again Rianne tried unsuccessfully to sit up. “I don’t think my shit insurance will cover an ambulance.”
“We’ll worry about that later,” Lucia declared. “You need help.”
“It’s not that serious. I’m sure.” Rianne’s determined look sent a clear no ambulance message to Lucia.
“Okay, Okay.” Lucia placed her phone on the coffee table and scratched her head. “I’ll drive you then,” she said. “That’s it. I’ll drive you. Think you can walk to the car? Should I see if the guys next door are home and could help?”
“No guys,”Rianne stated firmly. “You helping me should be enough.” She reached out to Lucia. “Here. Help me up.”
Lucia, not wanting to cause her friend pain, gently inched Rianne off the couch and anchored her against a near-by bookcase. “Now, wait here,” she said. “I’ll get your coat.” Lucia burrowed through the entry-way closet, pulled out Rianne’s red wool coat, and eased her into it.
“But… do you have time for this?” Rianne asked as Lucia guided her to the door. “You have a performance tonight. Did you forget?”
“Let’s go,” she said. “It’s hours ‘til performance time. If this is really nothing, like you say, we’ll have you home by then. It not, we’ll figure it out.” Lucia reassembled the contents of her purse and helped Rianne downstairs and into the car.
She’s right though, Lucia thought as the elevator descended. I do have a performance. A performance with Concert Mistress responsibilities that would need to be covered. But this is Rianne, my partner. The knot in her gut tightened and her busy head swam with confusion. The rigid, independent Lucia Baker was being stretched, her loyalties tested.
# # #
Portland’s mid-afternoon traffic was light and in no time Lucia and Rianne arrived at Good Samaritan Hospital’s ER. Lucia tore in to get a wheel chair for Rianne who, by now, was not even pretending that her pain was nothing. The admitting clerk took one look at Rianne and called for someone to take her to the back. Lucia dug through Rianne’s purse, pulled out her ID and proceeded to answer questions.
“Rianne Calder,” she said. C-A-L-D-E-R. She’s thirty nine.” She glanced at Rianne’s driver’s license. Birthdate 10/22/1971. She rattled off their Harrison Condo address.
“Employer?”
“Willamette Week. She’s a freelance writer, but do you really need all this info?” Lucia ran her fingers through her wind-blown brown bob and glanced anxiously around.
“Sorry.” The clerk eyed her sympathetically. “It’s the process and they do have your friend back there. Just a couple more questions and you can join her. Your relationship to Miss Calder?”
Unsure how much to say, Lucia hesitated. “We live together. For all practical purposes, I’m family. She’s an only child. Her mother passed away. Her father’s back in New York.”
The clerk looked up. “Do you have her father’s contact information? HIPAA rules are restrictive and, if you are to represent family, we’ll need to be in contact with her father.”
Lucia felt the familiar surge of anger. “We’ll get you what you need. In the meantime, I’m all she has so please, work with me.”
“I understand.” The clerk continued her questions. Moments later an antiquated printer spat out a form for Lucia to sign. “That’s it.” The clerk smiled and pointed to the waiting area. “Now, if you’ll have a seat someone will come get you.
Expecting a short wait and not wanting to be alone, Lucia chose a seat next to an Hispanic woman holding a squirming infant. The woman looked up and smiled.
“Your baby’s sick?” Lucia asked.
“Bad cough.” The woman spoke in broken English. “Very warm. I worry. We no insurance. I wait long time.”
“I’m sorry,” Lucia said, her heart opening to the young woman. “I hope they take you soon.” Looking around, Lucia was dismayed by the number of people waiting. Aware of how without conflict her life tended to be, she wondered what events in their lives had brought these people to this place. Moments later a young woman in candy-striper pink called her name. Lucia rose and followed her into a long wide hall lined with curtained alcoves. The aroma of medical disinfectant permeated the air and loud sobs of pain could be heard coming from one of the alcoves.
The Candy Stripper pulled back the curtain at ER alcove D and Lucia slipped in. Expecting to see a doctor calmly examining Rianne, she instead, found two doctors hovering over her, a frenzied nurse responding to their requests, and an intimidating looking machine positioned next to the bed.
“You, Lucia?” A young doctor with unruly blonde hair gestured for her to take a seat. “Russ Johnson,” he introduced himself.
Lucia nodded and sat.
“As I just explained to Miss Calder, we’re concerned that she’s having difficulty breathing so we’ve done an EKG. Her heart tested normal so we took an x-ray of her lungs.” The doctor pointed to an X-ray screen. “As you can see,” he continued, “there’s considerable fluid around her lungs. She tells me that she’s been having breathing issues for about a month now.”
Lucia looked at Rianne. “Jeez, Ri. Why didn’t you say something?”
“I thought it would go away.” Tears streaked Rianne’s make-up and splashed on the sheets below. “I was sure it was nothing.”
The doctor continued. “That amount of fluid around the lungs leads me to want to do a pelvic exam. Miss Calder has given consent and I’m about to perform it. Usually we’d ask that you leave but Miss Calder wants you to stay.”
Rianne’s frantic eyes focused on Lucia. “Please.”
Lucia took her hand and the two women watched as the young doctor, his eyes without expression, performed the exam. Upon completing it his eyes softened and he moved closer to Rianne’s side. “Miss Calder,” he said. “I do feel an abnormality and I’d like to admit you for further tests. I’ll order a CT scan of your chest and abdomen for this evening and, depending on the results, I may arrange for a gynecology oncologist to see you in the morning.”
“Oncologist? That’s a cancer doctor?” Alarm shot through Rianne’s eyes.
“Correct. I know this is a shock but I want to be honest with you. “What I’m seeing so far suggests the presence of a cancer someplace in your body. We’ll thoroughly investigate and I hope I’m wrong, but I want you to be aware of that possibility.”
Rianne turned ashen and could not speak while Lucia, fearing for Rianne, wondered what to do about her performance and felt guilty that she was even considering still performing.
The doctor continued. “The nurses are arranging your admitting but, while they’re doing that, one of the lung specialists will be coming here to drain the fluid. You’ll definitely feel better after that,” he assured her. He moved toward the door. “Any questions?”
“My mother died of ovarian cancer just three years ago.” Rianne blurted out. “Do I have ovarian cancer?”
“If you do, the tests will confirm it. Like I said, though, I hope I’m wrong. We’ll know more by morning.” Dr. Johnson shook her hand and then left the two women alone to absorb the news.
“Something’s really wrong.” Rianne turned to Lucia. “I know it. I’ve felt weird for a while now but, remembering my mother, I was afraid.”
“I didn’t know,” Lucia said, her eyes filled with concern. “I wish you’d said something.”
“I know. I should have.” Rianne pulled a crumpled sheet up over her and looked away. “I was afraid what you’d do if I told you.”
“Afraid what’d I’d do?” Lucia’s gut clinched. “What do you mean?”
“You’re so busy and it’s the holidays. I didn’t think you’d have time to help me.”
Lucia hesitated. “Not have time to help you?” she said. “I don’t understand.” She frowned and reached out to Rianne. “Unless, that is, you’re remembering last time. The accident. Is that it?”
Rianne nodded, her eyes cast down.
“That was two whole years ago.” Lucia’s thoughts drifted back to the accident. Rianne’s broken foot. The insurance hassle. Rianne unable to work. Medical bills mounting. And me offering her little or no help. Lucia wished for Rianne to look at her. “I’m sorry that you’d even think I’m the same person today.”
“What about your performance tonight?” Rianne asked. “I’m in the hospital and getting care so it’s fine that you go, but if it’s really cancer there’ll be surgery, chemotherapy. I remember how awful it was for my mom.” She paused. “You’ve never been sick or in trouble. Shit, you’re a basket case if you don’t get your “to-do” list done. I’ve thought about this a lot, Luce. If it’s really cancer, will you be there for me?”
At that point a thin, silver-haired doctor entered Rianne’s alcove followed by a young nurse wheeling the portable X-ray machine back into the room. “Miss Calder,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Dr. Evans, from Pulmonary Care. I’m here to get that fluid out of your lungs so you can breathe again.” He began setting up his equipment.
“Think about it,” Rianne said as she dismissed Lucia and looked at the doctor.
“So how’re you going to do this?” she asked him.
“It’s actually pretty amazing,” he said. “I’ll show you, but first, miss? He turned to Lucia who had lapsed into a stunned silence. “These ER alcoves are small. Would you mind stepping into the hall for just a few minutes while we do this procedure. You can come back in right afterwards. Sorry,” he said. “It’s just that with this machine I need more room.”
“Certainly.” Lucia inched around the X-ray machine and toward the door.
“Luce,” Rianne said. “Why don’t you just go on to the performance? I’ll be okay and you can come by afterwards.”
“You want me to go? You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. They’ll be moving me into my room and doing that test while you’re gone. It’s okay.”
“It feels like you’re sending me away,” she said, tears welling. “I should stay. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” But Rianne’s attention was now totally focused on the doctor.
Unnoticed, Lucia slipped out.
# # #
Darkness had fallen by the time Lucia left the hospital and she dreaded slogging through rush hour in sleet-like conditions. Feels like the universe is punishing me, she thought as she drove. But why? True, I didn’t support Ri the way she wanted when she had her accident but I was swamped with performances and teaching. I thought we’d worked that through, though. And I’m sure I’ve changed. Been a better partner these last couple of years. Haven’t I?
Lucia thought back to their conversation in the hospital. Okay. So I am abandoning her to go to a performance, but she told me to go. She sent me away. Why did she do that? Struggling to see clearly through the steam-covered windshield, Lucia turned the wipers to high and swiped at the glass with her free hand. Am I destined to repeat my selfish stupidity over and over again until I get it?
Arriving home, she grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and ate several spoons full before putting it aside to dress for the performance. She donned her concert black, ran a brush through her thick brown curls and twisted them into a plump knot which she then anchored firmly in place with a diamond clip, a gift from her parents. Finally, she slipped into two inch heels, adding add height to her 5 foot 2 frame. She then viewed her reflection in the mirror. My parents are proud of my music, she thought, but of me? Of who I’ve become? I’m, not sure anymore.
Planning to go directly to the hospital after the performance, Lucia she tossed Rianne’s granny nightgown and fuzzy blue robe into an overnight case along with her iPad, make-up, fresh underwear and the half-finished Nora Roberts novel from her bedside table. Wondering what else she might want, Lucia glanced around their simple but artistically decorated room. Books? Their classical CD collection? Magazines? She picked up the latest “O Magazine,” shoved it into the bag and, thinking that she’d see Rianne at least daily, she zipped the bag closed. Finally, laden with violin, Rianne’s overnight bag, and the heaviness of a possible life-changing challenge, Lucia drove to Keller.
# # #
“Ever been in the hospital before?” Doctor Evans asked Rianne.
“Yeah. I totaled my car two years ago. Broke my foot. Was in this very same ER. Hurt like hell.” Rianne ran her fingers through her tousled blonde curls. “That was bad enough but now they tell me I may have cancer. That’s a death sentence and I’m only 39.”
“They’ll do more tests,” Doctor Evans assured her, “but, yes, the presence of this level of fluid in the lungs is often an indicator of cancer.” By now the doctor had located the fluid on the x-ray machine and was preparing to insert a drainage tube into Rianne’s back. “Take a look if you’d like.” He pointed to a white area covering a good portion of her lung cavity. “That white area’s the fluid.”
Rianne turned. “God, that’s a truckload of fluid. No wonder I’ve had trouble breathing.”
“Right. Now if you’ll hold very still while I insert this tube, we’ll have you breathing normally again in no time.” He spoke slowly and deliberately as he carefully maneuvered the tube into her back. “Gotta get it in exactly the right spot.” A hush fell over the room.
“Okay. Good job. I’m in.” The doctor’s shoulders relaxed. “That feel okay?”
“I suppose,” she said. “At least as okay as it can feel to be dealing with the possibility of dying.” She swiped at two escaping tear drops, “and to be wondering if my partner will be here for me this time. If it’s cancer I’m gonna need a lot of help.”
“Your friend a performer?”
“Yeah. A superstar violinist. Plays for both the Symphony and the Ballet. They’re doing The Nutcracker tonight at Keller Auditorium. I made her go. She had a performance the night I broke my foot, too. I was already admitted by the time she was able to get here. She was more freaked out than I was. Luce is scared of sickness.” Rianne gasped due to a sudden sharp pain from the tube. “Performance came before me then and it looks like it’ll be the same this time.”
“But you sent her away.”
“She needed to leave without feeling guilty. Am I awful for being upset with her? For holding last time against her?”
“Hey, I’m just the lung doctor. I see your cell phone there. Maybe you’d like to call another friend.”
“Thanks, but there really isn’t anyone else.”
“No one else? A lovely young lady like you?”
“Oh, there’re lots of people,” she said. “But no one else that matters.”
“I see.”
Rianne lapsed into silence while she watched the fluid pour into two large containers positioned at her right. Soon the pain lessened and the doctor withdrew the tube. “Done. Looks like a couple of liters for the lab to test.”
She stared in amazement at the two full jars and, attempting to take a deep breath, coughed. “I still can’t breathe,” she gasped. “It’s actually worse.”
“Sorry. I should have warned you. That’s normal. Your lungs have to remember how to expand. Take small breaths for an hour of two and then you’ll be able to breathe normally.” The doctor packed up his equipment and turned toward the door. “We may need to drain fluid again in a day or two. If so, I’ll be back. In the meantime, I wish you the best, Ms. Calder.”
Alone for the first time since receiving her diagnosis, the enormity of it sank in and huge gulping sobs shook Rianne to her core. God, she thought, I may die and I’m so not ready to die. Another sob broke the silence in the room. I want so much for myself as well as for Luce and me together. She thought back to her abrupt dismissal of Lucia. I wonder if she’ll even come back tonight and I can hardly blame her if she doesn’t. God, I’m scared. Luce, I need you so much. I don’t think you get how much you mean to me. If my being sick is too much for you… If it destroys our relationship…” Rianne leaned back on her pillows and stared out at the winter darkness.
# # #
“Well, you’re hardly the picture of holiday cheer.” Eric said as Lucia slipped into her chair just in time to tune the orchestra. “You okay?”
“Ri’s in the hospital,” she blurted. “She didn’t feel well this morning and when I got home she was in terrible pain. I took her to the ER. They admitted her.”
Eric lowered his violin and flicked his unruly brown hair out of his eyes. “Jeez, Luce, I’m sorry. Ri’s a great gal. What’s wrong? Do they know?”
“Not yet. They’re doing tests. Could be serious, though. I’m going back after the performance tonight.”
“Well, yeah. I’m surprised you’re even here.”
“Are you really? she asked. “What would have happened if I didn’t get here?” She placed The Nutcracker score on their shared music stand.
“We’d manage,” he said. “Hell, Luce, that could be you lying in that hospital bed and then what’d we do? The show would still go on.” Eric looked away. “Ri being sick could definitely create havoc with your life though. You like your life neat and predictable, don’t you? Well, If Ri’s seriously sick you’ve got some real chaos ahead of you.”
“Are you trying to make me feel better?” she glared at him. “If so, it’s not working. Actually a little sympathy would help.”
“Sorry. It’s a fragile world out there.” Eric put his arm around her and gave her a half-hug. “I’m just telling it like it is, kid. Could test your relationship big time.”
Feeling punched in the gut by Eric’s words, Lucia stood, drew her bow across the A string and sounded the tuning pitch. She then sat, eyes poised for the appearance of Maestro Yoshida. I suppose it could be me, she thought. God, I’ve never been sick a day in my life. Things like that don’t happen to me.
# # #
Hours later, as Lucia entered the hospital foyer, the excitement of dancing sugar plums and waltzing flowers faded and the pain of sickness and death once again engulfed her. Blue lights flickered on the Giving Tree and familiar strains of White Christmas softened the starkness of the empty lobby.
As she passed the tree, fluttering paper ornaments caught her eye. Uneasy in a hospital setting and still shaken by Eric’s words, she stopped and reached for an ornament. Forty-one year old single mother has twelve year old daughter with leukemia. Lucia lingered, caressing the ornament’s glitter. How hard for both the girl and the mother, she thought. Maybe Ri and I could help them. Releasing the ornament she continued on to the information desk. Maybe on the way out…
“Rianne Calder’s room number, please. She was admitted earlier this evening.”
A frumpy middle-aged attendant clicked computer keys and looked up. “Room 610,” she said. “Best to take the elevator just ahead and to the left.” Following her directions, Lucia pushed the up button and, as the elevator door opened, stepped inside the steel enclosure. Arriving at Rianne’s room, she eased the door open and slipped into the darkness. Ri, small and barely visible among the wires, flashing monitors, and bed trays, turned toward her.
“I didn’t want to waken you,” Lucia said while scanning the room. “Nice digs.”
“Yeah, wanna trade?” Rianne said. “But, then, I don’t play the violin.” She scooted herself up in the bed and looked directly at Lucia. “It’s late. I was afraid you weren’t coming.”
Lucia pulled a hardback chair as close to the bed as possible and sat. “Ri, I said I was coming. I want to be here. I’m actually sorry I didn’t stay with you.”
Rianne glanced out the window. “Is it snowing?”
“No. Not quite cold enough for snow. Might get some before morning, though.”
“I like snow. Reminds me of New York. I’ve been thinking a lot about home. My mom and dad.”
Lucia looked out at the midnight darkness.
“How’d the performance go?”
Lucia shrugged her shoulders. “The performance went fine but Eric laid into me for leaving you. I already felt like shit so he made it worse.”
“It’s okay. They took me for tests. CT and blood. I’ve only been in this room a couple of hours.” Rianne closed her eyes but continued to speak. “That CT scanner is one scary beast. They make you drink icky stuff and you feel like you’re going to pee. My mom had a bunch of those.”
“I still should have been here.”
Rianne looked at her. “Should have been or wanted to be?” she asked in an unforgiving tone.
“Shit, Ri. Stop it!” Lucia’s words rang louder than she intended. “I know. I blew it last time,” she said, “but I’m here now and I want to be here but you’re making it hard.” Lucia lightly touched Rianne’s hand. “Why are you pushing me back?”
Rianne pulled her hand free. “Sorry. It’s not really you,” she said. “I’m scared. I’m sick, alone and scared. Shit. I probably have cancer and people die of cancer. Who wants to be around someone dying of cancer, especially at the holidays?”
Lucia moved to the edge of Rianne’s bed, her tone softening. “Say more about that, will you.”
“God, Luce, I’m so unprepared to deal with a serious illness. The chemo, the doctor’s appointment, my job, insurance… I remember it all from my mom.” Tears streaked down her cheeks. “Maybe I should just die fast and get it over with.”
“Hey.” Lucia covered Rianne’s hand with hers. “I know. It’s scary and what you say makes sense but let’s at least wait until we know for sure what you’ve got. It may not be as bad as you think and doctors can do wonders with cancer these days.”
“Yeah, sure. You know a lot about cancer.”
“We’ll deal with this together, Ri.”
“When’s your next performance?”
“We’ll sort that out.” Lucia assured her. “In the meantime, how’re you feeling?”
Rianne tugged at her blankets. “I’m okay. They gave me some drugs for the stomach pain and I can almost breathe normal again. Pills to help me sleep, too.”
“Sounds good,” Lucia said, then, remembering the overnight bag, she lifted it up. “I brought you things from home. Your granny gown and your robe. Stuff to read. Your make-up so you can be beautiful for the doctors. If I forgot anything I can bring it next time.”
“Not sure I need to look beautiful, but thanks.”
“Say, can I get you anything? A snack? Fill your water?”
The two sat in an uneasy silence for some time before Rianne, eyes heavy, spoke. “I’m starting to fall asleep. You might as well go now. Get some sleep. You’ve got Nutcracker again tomorrow, right?”
“Ri, I’m not leaving tonight. See that recliner over there?” Lucia pointed. “That’s my spot for tonight. I’m here with you and I may well miss Nutcracker tomorrow.”
Rianne returned Lucia’s look. “I love you, Luce. I love you so much.”
Lucia started to tell Rianne that she loved her, too, but the words caught in her throat. She picked up a thin hospital blanket and carried it with her to the recliner where she settled in and watched as Rianne, overcome by the drugs, fell into an uneasy sleep. Do I love you, Ri, she asked herself. Really love you? For that matter, do I really know what love is? Have I ever felt it? Do I feel it now? Though Lucia was looking at Rianne, she was haunted by Eric’s words and all she could see was herself, potentially ill, lying in that hospital bed. A cold chill took hold in her. Lucia Baker was seeing with new eyes and Lucia Baker was terrified.
# # #
“Good morning, Miss Calder.” A short, dark man of East Asian descent entered Rianne’s room. “I’m Doctor Kumar. I’ll be your primary physician while you’re in the hospital. It’s my understanding that you don’t have a regular doctor. Is that correct?”
Rianne nodded. “It’s just that I’m never sick and with changing jobs my insurance changed and I’ve never gotten it all together. Are you here to tell me what’s wrong with me?”
“I do have your tests results,” he confirmed. “But, first.” He turned to Lucia and extended his hand.
“I’m Lucia,” she offered, “Lucia Baker. Ri’s my partner.”
“I’m sure you’ll be a big support to Miss Calder.”
“Please,” Rianne jumped in. “Call me Ri. And you’re scaring me. Do I need big support?” She ran her fingers through her hair and raised her voice. “What’s wrong with me? Tell me,” she begged. “I’m freaking out.”
“Sorry.” The doctor smiled sympathetically. “Yes,” he said, the CT test scan shows a mass in your abdominal area and suggests cancer in the ovaries. Until pathology confirms it we can’t say for sure but, yes, cancer of the ovaries is highly likely.”
“Oh, God.” Rianne burst into tears and Lucia reached out to her. “Surgery, right?”
“Yes, Dr. Frederickson, a gynecological oncologist, will be in later this morning to examine you and talk about next steps but, yes, surgery and chemotherapy are standard treatment.”
“Shit. Just like my mom.” Rianne turned at Lucia and then back to the doctor. “Will the surgery be soon?”
“Most likely. The sooner we can get you into surgery, the sooner you will be on your way to recovery. These days, with treatment, most women with ovarian cancer can live many fulfilling years.”
“My mother died of ovarian cancer,” Rianne blurted. “She only lasted a couple of years and they were two totally terrible years. Treatment didn’t work for her.”
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Kumar said while shuffling papers and looking increasingly uneasy. “I didn’t realize that. Dr. Frederickson will want to know about your mother.”
“Why?” Rianne snapped. “What difference does my mother make at this point? She’s dead.” Rianne burst into tears and looked at Lucia, her eyes pleading.
“Dr. Kumar.” Lucia, pale and shaken, leaned forward. “This is all such a shock,” She said. “So much all at once. And this Dr. Frederickson. Who’s he? What’s his role?”
“Ah, yes, Dr. Frederickson.” Dr. Kumar’s shoulders relaxed. “Ruth Frederickson is a highly competent gynecologist with a specialty in oncology. An amazing young woman. You’re in good hands with her.” He smiled. “I think you’ll like her.”
“Wow, a woman doctor?” Rianne’s look of pleasure quickly faded.
“Are you keeping me in the hospital?”
“At least until you meet with Dr. Frederickson. I’m sure she’ll ask how soon you can be available for surgery so think about that while you are waiting for her.”
Rianne, turned to Lucia. “I supposed I could just go ahead and have the surgery. Right, Luce? I’ll want to call my dad for sure but no point in waiting. But my insurance? I have shit insurance and I don’t understand it.”
“The hospital social workers will help sort that out,” the doctor assured her as he moved toward the door. “I’m sure you have many questions and Dr. Frederickson will be the one to answer most of them but, before I leave, is there anything you’d like to ask me?”
Rianne looked at Lucia and they both shook their heads. “There’s so much,” Rianne said. “We’ll think about it and get our questions together. Will you be back after we see Dr. Frederickson?”
“Yes, I’ll actually try to be here when she sees you.” He paused. “Anything else?” Since there was nothing, he departed.
“I knew it Luce,” Rianne said as soon as they were alone. “I figured it was cancer like my mom’s. It’s a shock, but it’s not a surprise. It’s probably more of a shock to you.”
“Well…yes!” Lucia, pale and shaken, stuttered and stammered. “God, Ri. Your whole life. It’s all up in the air.” She snapped her fingers. “Changing just like that. Both of our lives,” she added. “I’d be a basket case, but you, you seem so calm.”
“I’ll fall apart later,” Rianne said. “I’ve been thinking of this for about a month now. I know it sounds bizarre, but I’m almost relieved.”
“Sounds totally bizarre.” Lucia, still pale, was clearly absorbing the shock. “So, what can we do? What can I do?”
“You can help me think of questions and get organized. People to contact. My job. Insurance. My dad. Shit, dad will find this really hard.”
“Want me to call him?”
“No. I’ll call him, but I might as well wait until we talk to the cancer doctor. Can you stay for that?”
“Absolutely. But I supposed I should check my schedule and see what’s on there.” Glancing at her phone she frowned.
“I don’t want to make you miss things?”
“You come first right now.” She stood. “I’ll be out in the hall making calls to cancel these things but I won’t go very far and I’ll be back as soon as I’m done. Want me to bring you anything?”
Ri’s leaned back on her pillows and smiled. “No, nothing thanks. Just having you here’s enough.”
# # #
Having you here is enough… With Rianne’s words still echoing, Lucia entered the visitor’s lounge, refreshed her coffee, and, relieved to have the lounge to herself, curled up in a green barcalounger, glanced out the window and thought about the day that she had originally planned. While she felt the pull of her commitments, it was a no-brainer that she should cancel everything and remain with Ri. But she really did want to do those things. Eric had warned her that Rianne’s illness could turn her life upside down and, indeed, that was already happening and Lucia didn’t like it at all
She pulled out her phone and re-checked her schedule. Two Portland State University violin lessons late morning, a rehearsal at 2:00, and a repeat Nutcracker performance tonight. She ran her fingers through her now uncombed hair. Do I leave Ri to do these? Eric would say no, but I’m just sitting here waiting for doctors to come. Waiting for the ax to fall.
As Lucia was starting to dial, a woman about her age in a classic black suit and white blouse stepped into the room. “Mind if I join you?” she asked. “The nurses are bathing my mother so I’m just here until they’re finished.” She laughed. “As sick as she is she’s still embarrassed to have me see them bathing her.”
“By all means, join me.” Lucia smiled. She extended her hand. “I’m Lucia,” she said. “Besides, I think these are open waiting rooms for anyone one the floor. I was just going to make some phone calls. Reschedule my day.”
“I just did that,” the woman said as she returned Lucia’s handshake. “I’m Carol. My mother’s had cancer surgery. I’m going to lose her so I want to spend as much time with her as possible. Besides, I can’t focus on work.” She pulled her cell out to check messages and frowned. “There’s so much to do but it has to wait. First things first.”
“I’m struggling with the same thing. My friend, she’s 39, just got a cancer diagnosis. She wants me with her but I have a full day of work commitments.”
“Your partner?”
Lucia nodded. She’s so young. Her mother died of cancer. Same kind. She’s scared. Prickly tears threatened to erupt. “Actually, I’m scared, too. It’s not just her life. It’s mine, too.”
“I’m so sorry.” Carol joined Lucia on the couch. “And she’s only 39. How hard for both of you.”
Lucia burst into tears. “It’s just all so much,” she sobbed. “I’m clueless about cancer and dying and all that it involves. I feel so powerless, so unable to help her.”
Carol took Lucia’s hand. “Will you tell me about your friend?” she asked. “Do you have time?”
“Well…” Lucia swiped at a tear and placed her cell in her lap. “Well, sure,” she said. “It you’re interested.”
“I am.” Carol looked into Lucia’s eyes with a love and a knowing that almost frightened her.
“Her name’s Rianne,” Lucia began. She’s beautiful and talented and funny and outgoing in ways that I’ll never be and I think I love her but I’m not really sure.” She babbled on as she dabbed at her eyes. “She’s a writer. She’s determined to write a best seller and now she may not have time. She wants me to marry her and, so far, I haven’t been willing to do that but she may be dying.” She looked directly at Carol. “I’m so confused,” she blurted out. “How do you know if you love someone?”
Carol’s gentle laugh broke the tension. “If it’s love, you’ll know.” Carol embraced her. “And you’re here now, helping her,” she said. “You’re doing everything you can for her. Right?”
“I suppose,” she said, “but, please, say more. How will I know if it’s love?”
“Hmmm….” Carol thought for a moment. “Well,” she began. “It’s my experience that love consumes you, rips at your heart, takes hold of you in a way that is both glorious and frightening at the same time. Who you are becomes entwined with the other in a way that is magnificent and empowering.” She hesitated. “Does that make sense?”
“Sort of,” Lucia thought for a moment. “Actually I feel that when I play the violin but I’ve never felt it with another person. Does everyone feel love?”
“These are tough questions,” Carol looked into Lucia’s eager brown eyes. “It’s my experience that those who are willing to be raw and open and brave and eager, do experience love, but,” she said, “it involves risk.”
“I’m not a good risker,” Lucia said pensively.
“Looks to me like an opportunity has landed right in your lap.”
Lucia hesitated. “God, that’s so true.” She reached out and took Carol’s hand. “I need to say this,” she said, “and I hope you don’t think I’m crazy or bold but I’m going to say it anyway. It’s a real gift that you came in here just now. Sort of like having a guardian angel appear just when you need her. I was seriously thinking of leaving Ri for a few hours today but, you’re right. I have nothing more important to do than to stay with her.” She reached for her cell. “I think I’ve spent much of my life with screwed up priorities.”
“Sometimes it takes getting hit over the head.” Carol said just as a nurse entered to let her know her mother was ready for her. “Prayers for your friend,” she said as she rose to her feet. “And,” she added looking over her shoulder with a smile, “this isn’t the first time I’ve been called an angel.”
Relieved to be clearing her day, Lucia refreshed her coffee, picked up her cell, and began dialing. Maestro Yoshida was most sympathetic and totally understood her need to be with Ri and the violin students seemed pleased to have their lessons cancelled. Feeling confirmed in her decision, Lucia went on to make one final call.
Hey Eric, it’s Luce. Got a minute?” She listened to his reply before continuing. “Remember last night. What you said about me staying with Ri. How important it is and how the performance will still go on etc. etc?”
“Yeah, why?” Lucia heard caution in his tone.
“Well, I’m at the hospital. Ri has cancer.”
“Shit. I so didn’t want to hear that.”
“Yeah. Me, too. I’m with her, waiting for the oncologist. It probably means surgery in the next day or so followed by chemotherapy. I’ve called Dr. Yoshido about not performing tonight and he was wonderful. Seemed to totally understand. He’ll be talking to you about covering for me tonight. Somehow, though, it seemed important to call you personally and let you know. I’m so sorry, Eric. I hate it that you have to cover for me.
“Jeez, Luce. I’m really sorry. What a shock. I’m more than happy to cover tonight and you know that. Anything else I can do, something for you maybe?”
“Actually, you’ve already done a lot,” she said. “Your ‘telling it like it is’ message and what you said about me having some real chaos ahead of me were exactly what I needed to hear. That, and covering for me tonight, is more than enough for now.”
“Hard for you not to be in control, isn’t it Luce?”
“I’ll say…”
# # #
By late afternoon Dr. Fredrickson had come and gone and Rianne’s surgery plan was in place. She would remain in the hospital and have surgery early Thursday, the day after tomorrow. Rianne’s father, Henry Calder, devastated by the news, was flying out of New York tomorrow morning and would arrive at noon. Lucia, still reeling with shock, was making every effort to support Ri. For Ri’s pre-surgery last meal, for example, she brought in a dinner of risotto with chanterelle mushrooms, shrimp, roasted fennel, and shallots from Papa Haydn’s, one of Rianne’s favorite Northwest Portland restaurants. She also brought a bottle of Rianne’s favorite Riesling and an obscene Papa Haydn’s chocolate dessert for them to split.
“Amazing how your whole life can change in a day, isn’t it?” Lucia said as she poured the last of the wine into Rianne’s make-shift wine goblet.
“For sure.” Rianne raised her glass as if to suggest a toast. “Sort of feels like the Last Supper, doesn’t it?”
“Too Catholic for me.” Luce laughed. “How about just calling it a celebration of life?”
“That works.” They clicked glasses and savored the last of the wine.
“So your dad flies into PDX at noon tomorrow?”
“Right.” Rianne pushed her dinner tray aside and fluffed her pillows. I called him right after Dr. Frederickson left. He couldn’t believe it. It never occurred to him that I might also carry that cancer gene. He was too much in shock to talk but we’ll have time together when he gets here.”
“I’m happy to meet his flight if you’d like.”
“I actually offered that.” Rianne grinned. “He thanks you but says he wants you to stay here with me. He’s fine getting a cab. Dad’s a great guy.”
“He sure is. I’m glad that we had those times with your folks while I was back at Julliard. The dinners, the concerts, art exhibits.” Lucia paused to think about the good times they’d had in New York. “Your mom, the musician and Henry, the writer. You come by it honestly,” she laughed. “Both the talent and he drama.”
“Yeah, that was a fun visit. Dad’s changed a lot though since mom died and he retired. Looks like an old man. Lots of wrinkles. Moves slower. Like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He says that losing a lifetime partner is like losing half of yourself. I can imagine what my being sick will do to him. Maybe kill him?”
“God, Ri, don’t even think that,” Lucia said while also hearing the message for her in Rianne’s words.
“I’ve got to think that, Luce.” Rianne grew silent and glanced out the window. “Sickness changes you. Makes you appreciate life more. Appreciate people more. You haven’t had that experience, at least not yet.”
“Yeah.” Luce’s gut clenched. “Guess you’re going to be my teacher.” She took a sip of water and looked back at Rianne. “Ri, the way you’re handling all this is pretty amazing.”
“Yeah, well.” Rianne scowled. “You can ease up on the amazing part. It’s called doing what you have to do.”
“I suppose…” Lucia, looking at Rianne through new eyes, pondered her words.
“Still not snowing, is it?” Rianne said,
# # #
A penetrating fog held the City of Portland captive the following morning and its tendrils reached into Good Samaritan Hospital’s Room 610 where Rianne, Lucia, and Henry Calder waited for Rianne’s surgery transport team.
Henry, stoop-shouldered and balding, but with well-tended, white sideburns, glanced at his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. “They’re late.”
“It’s okay, dad,” Rianne assured him. “We know we’re next and the nurse said that next is when the operating room is ready for us. I guess it’s tricky to time surgeries.”
“It’s not okay,” he snapped. “You’re hungry and you’re in pain. They need to get you down there.”
“Dad, chill.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m drugged. Feeling nothing but glad to have you here and eager to get this over with.”
“You’re brave like your mother,” he said. “I guess I’m the family wimp.”
“Hey, you’re the glue that’s held our family together.”
“Glue, huh?” Henry Calder’s response was cut short by three surgically clad orderlies who burst into the room.
“Rianne Calder?”
“That’s me.”
“Wanna go for a ride?” The taller of the three grinned.
Two male orderlies helped Rianne slide onto the surgical stretcher while a young woman with a clipboard and pen approached her. “If you’ll just sign this consent form we’ll be on our way.” Rianne scribbled her signature and returned the clipboard.
“Think I just signed my life away?” She joked as, Henry and Lucia walked beside her stretcher to the surgery floor where Dr. Fredrickson was waiting for them.
“Rianne, the doctor firmly grasped her hand. “And Lucia?” Lucia nodded and turned to Henry.
“Doctor,” she said, “this is Ri’s father, Henry Calder. He’s here from New York.”
Dr. Fredrickson acknowledged Henry and assured both of them that she’d talk to them immediately after the surgery. “I expect it to take three to five hours,” she said. “We ask that family members wait in this area.” She pointed to his left. “You’ll find beverages and snacks in that corner. She then turned to Rianne. “Ready?”
A tear escaped as Rianne nodded, squeezed Henry’s hand, and disappeared into one of several surgery rooms lining a stark, white hallway.
Henry, fighting tears, took Lucia’s hand. “I’m so glad she has you,” he said. “She talked about you a lot last night. Says she loves you. At first that was hard for an old codger like me to understand but, hey, if it’s what she wants… And besides,” he grinned at her. “You’re a good gal, Luce. Having you as her partner is going to make all the difference in Ri’s ability to recover.”
While Lucia said nothing, a chill took hold in her for Henry’s words touched into her deepest fear. Sure, she wanted the best for Ri, wanted her rid of the cancer, wanted her able to live out her dreams, but Ri wanted a permanent commitment, wanted marriage and Lucia didn’t yet want that.
How much did Henry know, she wondered. Would he pressure her and, if so, would she be able to find the middle path, the place between genuine caring for Rianne and her own strong need for independence.
# # #
Surgery waiting rooms must be a lot like hell, Lucia thought as she sweltered in the overheated room and watched the hands on the clock slowly grind forward. Two hours. Three hours. Four hours. She and Henry had engaged in small talk for the first hour but the well of words between two strangers soon ran dry. They sat in uneasy silence, paging through dog-eared magazines and drinking luke-warm coffee.
“Over four hours now.” Henry glanced at the wall clock and then at his trusty Timex. “The doc said three to five hours. Should we worry?”
Lucia lowered her magazine. “I’m not going to worry until it’s over five hours, but, yes. I’m definitely getting antsy. Hopefully it won’t be much longer.”
“You sure this doc is good?” he asked. “I don’t know many women doctors.”
Lucia’s laugh broke the tension. “Henry, it’s the Twenty-First Century.” She patted his hand. “Women have firmly established themselves in medicine. I did a little checking on Doctor Frederickson and she’s a five-star gynecological oncologist. She’s actually achieved national recognition for her work.”
“Twenty-First Century, huh.” Henry’s scowl softened. “Nice of you not to call me old, young lady.”
Finally, four and one-half hours after Rianne was wheeled down the hall, Dr. Fredrickson returned to the waiting area, her step sprightly and her expression bright.
“The surgery went well,” she said. “Rianne will be in recovery for a couple of hours after which they’ll take her to her room.”
Henry interrupted. “Was it ovarian cancer?”
“Yes. Pathology needs to confirm but I can say with conviction that Rianne has advanced ovarian cancer.” She paused for them to absorb her words. “There is good news in all this, though.” She said. “We’re reasonably sure that we got it all. That’s why the surgery took so long. Please know, too, that women with advanced ovarian cancer often go on to live full, rich lives. The fact that we think we got it all bodes well for Rianne.”
Henry looked at Lucia. “The doctors didn’t say that after her mother’s surgery.”
Lucia, shedding tears of relief mixed with fear, and confusion, hugged Henry.
“So what happens next?” Henry asked.
“How about I meet you in her room later this evening, say about 7:00. Rianne will have the same questions and we can all talk about it together.”
“I suppose that works.” Henry thanked the doctor and put his gnarly hand on Lucia’s shoulder.
“Young lady,” he said, his eyes misting. “We’ve got a couple of hours ahead of us. May I have the pleasure of your company at dinner? I’m told that the hospital cafeteria’s cuisine is quite acceptable.”
Lucia gazed at the grateful old man beside her and took his hand. Fully on board was still an unknown for Lucia but, without a doubt, she was a committed partner in healing, both her own and Rianne’s.
THE END
Marilyn's Writing 