Whatever Tomorrow Brings, page 1
Copyright © 2021 by Amy Argent
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN (paperback): 978-1-7369405-2-5
ISBN (e-book): 978-1-7369405-3-2
Cover design by Jada D’Lee Designs
Illustrations and Turning Tree Press logo by Jared Pace
Edited by Susan Atlas
Turning Tree Press
First Edition
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Acknowledgements
About the Author
For my Family
BOOKS BY AMY ARGENT
The Embrace Tomorrow Duet
Come Back Tomorrow
Whatever Tomorrow Brings
Life always offers you a second chance. It's called tomorrow.
Dylan Thomas
Prologue
“Will you stay? At least for a few minutes? You’re the first visitor I’ve had.”
Intense green eyes, so warm and yet distant. So alone and vulnerable, yet so resilient and strong.
“Can I come back tomorrow?”
So many days spent with him, gaining his trust by giving him my own. Telling him my stories. Holding his hand through pain and fear. Falling in love with him a day at a time. A smile at a time.
“I’m scared, Tori. Jesus, I’m fucking terrified. This is really going to happen, and I don’t have any control. I don’t know how to deal with this. I feel like I’m falling apart, and there’s nothing left to hold on to.”
“Hold on to me, sweetheart.”
Depression and then resolve. To make peace with the demons from a past full of heartache.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’m all right. I’m so glad you could come.”
Hope and then disaster.
“Do you have pneumonia?”
“Bacterial . . . I forget . . . the exact name. Evans asked me . . . if I want them . . . to give me drugs . . . to make me comfortable.
“I told him yes. Too much pain. I couldn’t . . . no more.”
And then . . . oh God, and then . . .
“Tori . . . I love you. There was nothing for me . . . but now . . . there’s so much I want to do . . . so much I want to give to you.”
“Tori, I want you to go . . . and I don’t want you . . . to come back tomorrow.”
And I left.
“Code blue, code blue, room four-twelve. Code blue, code blue, room four-twelve.”
And he nearly left this world before I could get back to him. Before he could see the truth of what was between us.
"They're helping him, Tori! Will lifted his DNR. He's letting them help him to breathe."
And now he’s fighting for his life against pneumonia. But that’s just a consequence of the bigger monster—the cancer that has destroyed his immune system and continues to ruthlessly try to take his life.
“Jenny, is there any hope for him? If he recovers from the pneumonia, does he have any options at all for treatment?”
“Yes, he has options, Tori. He’s had options all along, and one in particular that could even be a cure.
He can have another round of chemotherapy followed by a stem cell transplant. The regular chemo alone obviously isn’t working for him since the cancer came back twice, but the combination of high-dose chemo with a stem cell transplant has a half-decent rate of success.”
He didn’t tell me he had options. I was too afraid of his reaction to tell him I loved him. We’re quite the pair, aren’t we? But now he knows I love him, and now I know the decision he’d been struggling with since he came down with pneumonia. Hell, probably since long before that.
“I think that’s why he lifted his DNR. He loves you, and he’s decided to fight—maybe even to go into treatment again. Because he wants to be with you.”
“Tori, you need to be there for him and help him fight this. When he recovers from the pneumonia, I’m sure you can talk it out. But he needs you right now. If you’re feeling angry—or betrayed—remember that he loves you, and in the end, he chose you.”
He chose me.
Will chose me, and he’s fighting for me. He’s fighting for us. And I’m going to help him fight with everything I have.
Chapter 1
Jenny and I are sitting in the waiting room just down the hall from Will.
The room where she brought me after Will coded, and she told me he’d lifted his DNR and they were helping him.
The room where she confessed that she told him I loved him and that he has treatment options.
The room where I went through his sketchbook and felt his love for me radiating from every stroke of his pencil.
She’s been holding me for minutes or hours while I try to put myself together and make some sense of it all. I truly do have the very best friend in the world, and I’m so lucky she was Will’s nurse and that she brought us together.
“I owe you—a lot,” I whisper, and she just squeezes me tighter.
“You don’t owe me anything, and there’s still a long way to go. First, he has to survive the pneumonia before we can get to trying to cure him.”
I scrub at my face with my hand, my eyes burning from crying and lack of sleep.
“But he’ll be okay, right? I mean, the pneumonia won’t kill him . . .”
Jenny just smiles at me sadly. “I don’t know, Tori. He’s very sick right now, and it all depends on how bad this gets. If his lungs can’t clear the bacteria . . .”
I squeeze my eyes shut and lower my head, unconsciously wrapping my arms further around myself to fend off her words. “He’s going to be okay,” I say with stubborn determination.
“I hope so, for both of you. It’s going to be a little while before you can see him, and they gave him anesthesia before the intubation, so he’s going to be out for the better part of the day. And they’ll be moving him up to the ICU.”
My breath catches as panic washes over me again. “Oh, Jenny . . .”
“Now that he’ll be on the vent for at least a few days, he needs more than we can do for him down here. This doesn’t mean it’s the end, Tori. It’s a good thing, actually, because now that he lifted his DNR, his course of treatment for everything will be more aggressive. They’ll take good care of him, and he’ll be back down here before you know it.
“While you’re waiting to see him, I think you should call Jason . . . and his mother. They’ll both want to know he’s taken a turn for the worse. They deserve to know, and I suspect he’d want you to be the one to tell them.”
“Oh, of . . . of course.” I’m still having a hard time wrapping my mind around everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours, and suddenly, I feel guilty for not reaching out to either of them after Will told me he’d decided to give in. I was just so lost that it didn’t even occur to me. Shit.
Jenny rubs my back affectionately. “Make your calls, and I’ll go check on Will for you.”
I nod as she stands.
“I’ll come right back and let you know,” she says, smiling at me.
I manage a small smile in return, but as she leaves, I let my head fall into my hand. Now I have to explain all this to the only two people Will’s allowed to care for him other than me: his mother and his best friend.
I call Jason but I get his voicemail. I don’t want to explain everything in a message, so I just say Will has gotten worse, and he should come to see him as soon as he can.
I dial Elizabeth’s number, and she picks up on the second ring.
“Tori? Is everything okay?” There’s panic in her voice—she knows I wouldn’t call unless something bad had happened.
“Hi, Elizabeth. Things aren’t as okay as they were. Will came down with pneumonia this week.”
“Oh my God, is he all right?”
“He’s . . . all right for now.” I take a shaky breath. “His lung collapsed this morning, and they had to put him on a ventilator to help him breathe. They’re moving him up to the ICU now.”
“Oh!” She gasps. “I-I’ll come. I’ll be on a flight tomorrow morning. Can you recommend a hotel nearby?”
“You’re welcome to stay with me, or you can stay at Will’s place. I know he was planning to ask you to stay there when you came up to visit, so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”
There’s a pause. “I . . . feel strange about intruding into his life that much without his knowing. If you’re sure it’s no trouble, I’d be happy to stay with you.”
“I understand, and it’s no trouble at all,” I say, a bit relieved. I’m sure Will wouldn’t really mind, but I know he’s very particular about his things. “Text me your flight information, and I’ll pick you up from the airport tom
“Thank you, Tori,” she says tearfully. “If you get the chance to talk to him, tell him I love him.”
“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I hang up the phone and collapse back into my chair. It’s nearly nine in the morning now, so I call the psychology clinic receptionist and ask her to reschedule all my appointments for the rest of the week. I have no intention of leaving Will’s side, much less going back to work, until he’s over this.
By the time I’m finished, Jenny is back.
“Hey, sweetie. How are you holding up?”
I sigh heavily. “I’m okay. Elizabeth is coming tomorrow, and I left a message for Jason. How’s Will?”
“He’s . . . holding on,” Jenny says, and my heart flies into my throat.
“They’ve drained the fluid from his abdomen and put in a chest tube to drain the air and infected fluid from around his lungs. It’ll take a few days to clear it all, so when you see him, you’ll notice the tube is still in place. And they have him hooked up to the vent. His respirations are good right now, but his fever is very high.”
I nod numbly as the reality of how very sick Will is crashes down around me. I need to see him. Now.
“Can I see him, Jenny?”
“Transport took him up about fifteen minutes ago, so they should have him just about settled by now. Come on, I’ll walk you up there.”
Jenny puts her arm around me, and we go up to the sixth floor together. As we get off the elevator, I’m struck by how very quiet it is, and I’m instantly reminded of a few of the patients I befriended who died in the ICU. I shake my head firmly. I am not going to think about death today.
When we arrive at Will’s door, Jenny pauses and looks back at me. “Remember, be strong, Tori. In the ICU, patients often look worse than they actually are.”
I swallow thickly, then follow her in.
I look at the floor and keep my eyes there until we get to the side of his bed. I’m afraid of what I’ll see, but I have to be strong for him. Taking a deep breath, I raise my eyes slowly, but all my air is stolen the minute my gaze falls on him.
He looks absolutely awful. His eyes are closed, but the shadows underneath are dark, making them appear sunken and hollow. His cheeks are ruddy, but the color is too red to be healthy. Sweat is beaded on his forehead, and I realize what’s missing is his restless motion. When Will is feverish, he’s constantly moving, but he’s eerily motionless right now because he’s still under the effects of general anesthesia.
They’ve removed the NG tube from his nose, and white tape goes across his face just below there, holding the tube coming out of his mouth in place. I can hear the positive force of the machine as it forces air into his lungs, and the mere thought that he can’t breathe on his own right now almost brings me to my knees.
I take the last few steps to the bed unsteadily. “Oh, sweetheart,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
Jenny takes my elbow and guides me into the chair she’s placed behind me, and I sit, unable to take my eyes off him. “The shock of it will wear off. You know it’s not as bad as it looks, and he’s in there, fighting. I’ll give you two some time alone. You know where to find me.”
She backs out of the room, but I still can’t take my eyes off Will’s face. He looks so . . . different now that he’s not able to smile at me, and I can’t see the pout of his lips that always defines his sleep. Now, he truly looks like a cancer patient, and a terminal one at that.
In the blink of an eye, I’m sitting on the side of his bed, but as I reach forward to run my fingers into his hair, I notice he’s shirtless. His blanket is pulled up to his chest, but his bare arms are resting on top of it, making the bright red rash that covers them and the scabs where he’s scratched his skin raw clearly visible as well as the swollen lymph nodes under his arms. I gasp softly as I take in the damage this disease has done to him. I’m sure they took his nightshirt off because of all the procedures they did this morning, but he wouldn’t be happy about being so exposed. I’ll have to talk to his nurse to see what we can do to cover him up so he doesn’t wake up like this.
I also notice his left arm is pulled away from his body. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I lift his arm gently, pulling the blanket down and away from his torso. A large tube protrudes from his side, gauze and tape surrounding it and holding it in place. The tube goes to a drainage unit attached to the bottom of the bed, and I turn my head away, trying to block out the rest of what I see. This is what’s going to save his life, but I can barely stand the sight of it. I carefully put his blanket back in place. My hand finally makes it to his hair, brushing it away from his face.
“Will, I’m so sorry! I came as fast as I could, but I didn’t make it! I should have come earlier. I should have known this would happen, and I should have given in and come. I hope you know I’m here, and I’m fighting for you too. I’m going to stay right here until you’re better. I promise.
“What you did today . . . I had no idea what you’d been fighting, the decision you were trying to make. And last night, I thought the fight was lost, but you changed your mind, and you chose me—chose us. I can’t wait to tell you I love you, too.
“I love you, Will, with my whole heart and soul, and I would do anything for you. And I’ll do anything I can to help you fight this so you can get better, and we can be together.
“So, you just hang on,” I tell him, my voice breaking. “You hang on and outlast this infection, and we’ll find a way to get you better.”
I must have fallen asleep because I’m startled awake when the door squeaks, announcing the arrival of Dr. Evans.
He smiles at me, then addresses Will. “Hello, Will. How are we doing?” he asks, pulling a mini iPad out of his pocket as he checks Will’s IV and the readout on the ventilator. Then he puts a hand on Will’s forehead and reaches across the bed and gently takes Will’s hand, putting two fingers over Will’s pulse point and watching the clock for a few minutes. He puts Will’s hand down and makes a few more notes on his device. Then he turns to face me.
“Hello, Tori.”
“Hi, Dr. Evans.”
The silence is ominous for a moment, but Dr. Evans doesn’t let it grow. “I’m here to talk to you about Will’s condition,” he says, his eyes focused intently on me.
“But . . . I’m not Will’s family. Don’t the privacy laws prevent you from telling me anything?” I ask, thinking back to everything Jenny had to do to try to help us without losing her job.
“Actually, in this case, they don’t. This morning, Will gave you medical power of attorney for his healthcare decisions.”
I gasp, all the air leaving my lungs in a sudden whoosh. “H-he . . . he did what?”
“He granted you the right to make decisions for him in the event that he couldn’t, which is a very good thing because at the moment, he’s not capable of deciding anything,” Dr. Evans says matter-of-factly.
Will put me in charge of his medical decisions. He put his life in my hands, and he’s trusting me to do what he would want with it. He trusts me. I mean, I always knew he did on some level, but this? This is the ultimate. The tears well up and spill over—I’m so touched by what this says I am to him, but at the same time, I’m horrified that it’s necessary.
“Are you willing to take on this responsibility?”
“Of . . . of course. I didn’t know he’d done that. He was pretty busy this morning before his lung collapsed, wasn’t he?”
Dr. Evans nods. “Yes, he was, and it’s a good thing, too. I didn’t want to see him die that way. Not when he has other options.”
Right away, I think of what Jenny told me about Will’s treatment options, but I don’t ask about it. Until he recovers from the pneumonia, it doesn’t matter anyway.
“I’m glad too.”
“But let’s focus on the present. Will’s lung has re-inflated with the help of the chest tube, and his breathing is stable right now, and that’s good. We drained the abdominal fluid and the air and fluid from his chest, and we left the chest tube in place to continue to drain the infection as the pneumonia runs its course. My concern right now is his fever. His temperature has been hovering around one-oh-four for almost forty-eight hours now, and that’s dangerously high, especially given his weakened condition. We’re doing what we can to lower it, but if we can’t get it down, it may be only a matter of time until his organs begin to fail. We’ll be keeping a close eye on him, but I think the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will be critical.”
