Whatever Tomorrow Brings, page 15
Elizabeth is excited as well, and we share a cheerful breakfast before heading out. She managed to get everything we needed at the store yesterday, so we’re gearing up to do some serious cooking once we get Will settled in.
When we arrive, he’s already awake and all smiles, eager to be on his way.
“I’m so excited for you!” Elizabeth exclaims as she hurries over and hugs him first.
He grins even wider as he squeezes her. “Hi, Mom.”
“Good morning, sweetheart,” I say, leaning in and kissing him next. “Has Jill been by? Do you know what needs to happen before we can leave today?”
“I don’t think very much. I need to get dressed and get everything together, mostly. Jill said I’ll need to come back tomorrow for a transfusion, so there shouldn’t be any blood work or anything today.”
I frown at his statement about the transfusion. For the last eight days, Will has been having a transfusion every other day, and today he’s due for one. Jill must be thinking he’s now ready to go two days between transfusions.
“Okay then. Let’s get you dressed and ready.”
Will is already in sweatpants and a white t-shirt, but I’ve brought him a very warm-looking U Dub sweatshirt that was in one of his drawers and a pair of sneakers I found in his closet.
I help him slip on the sweatshirt, then put on his shoes and tie them for him. He frowns and cocks his head as I finish.
“What?”
“Nothing, I . . . it’s been five months since I’ve worn shoes. They feel . . . strange.”
“I bet they do,” I say, grinning. “You won’t need to wear them for long, though. Most of the time, you’ll probably be walking around our apartment in socks—those hardwood floors are cold!”
Will smiles brilliantly. “I can’t wait to be walking around our apartment. There are so many things I like in that sentence: ‘walking,’ ‘our,’ ‘apartment’—no trace of ‘hospital’ or ‘nurse’ there at all!”
I chuckle. He’s so happy and so ready to be out of here. We chat easily as I gather up all his things, and then we wait for Jill to come.
She shows up about twenty minutes later, a huge smile on her face. “Well, this is it. Are you ready?”
“I’ve never been more ready for anything in all my life,” Will says fervently before he breaks into a smile.
“Well, let’s get this show on the road, then. You’re all good to go. Dr. Evans has signed the discharge order, and you’re scheduled for blood work and a transfusion at ten tomorrow. I’ll call transport, and after that, there’s just one more thing you need to do before you’re on your way.”
Will furrows his brow as he looks at her, but her words were enough to tip me off. I know what he has to do before they’ll allow him to leave.
I grin at Jill, and she winks back, sharing the secret with me. Will will find out soon enough.
Jill leaves, and we wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Finally, around eleven, transport shows up with the wheelchair we’ll be taking with us for Will. He’s able to walk short distances now, but the walk from the car to our apartment is long, as is the walk through the hospital when we come back for transfusions. He’ll be using the chair until he’s strong enough to walk that far himself.
The orderly’s smile is infectious as he grins at Will. “You ready, man?”
“Absolutely,” Will replies.
The orderly puts on Will’s surgical mask for him and helps him to stand, watching as he takes the few steps over to the waiting wheelchair. Will needs a little help, but once he’s situated, he looks up at me. “Aren’t we going to put on my coat?”
“We will, but there’s something you have to do first,” I tell him, rubbing his shoulder.
He’s just about to ask me what when Jill comes through the door. “Okay, Will, everything’s ready. It’s time for your last procedure here.”
The orderly pushes Will’s chair out the door into a hallway lined with people. All of the oncology staff is there as well as some of the patients who are mobile, and they’re all smiling at Will.
Suddenly, his eyes light up in understanding. He knows what he has to do.
Will is wheeled over to the wall next to the nurses’ station where a golden bell hangs from a wooden plaque. Next to it, there’s another plaque with the inscription:
Survivor’s Bell
Ring this bell
Three times well
Its toll to clearly say,
My treatment's done
This course is run
And I am on my way!
As the sailing ships of another generation relied on their ship’s bell to signal their position in the fog, may this bell enable you who ring it to navigate your way through life free of cancer.
Dr. Evans steps forward from the crowd and puts his hand on Will’s shoulder. Then he says in a loud voice, “This is Will Everson, a stem cell transplant patient whose angioimmunoblastic T-cell lymphoma is now in remission. He is a survivor, ready to begin his life anew, free of cancer. Today he rings the Survivor’s Bell three times, once for love, once for hope, and once for courage to celebrate his own victory and to inspire those who hope to follow the same path. Congratulations, Will!”
The crowd is silent as Will raises a shaking hand to the bell pull, his eyes red-rimmed. He looks to me and I nod encouragingly, my happiness and pride in him bubbling over.
His first ring is tentative, but the next two are loud and strong, and the hallway erupts in thunderous applause. Jenny and I both let out a whoop, and Dr. Evans squeezes Will’s shoulder. No one comes any closer to him because they know he’s a transplant patient, but every one of the staff makes eye contact with him and either salutes or flashes a victory sign as they go back to their work.
Jenny, Elizabeth, and I all wipe the tears from our eyes, and I see Will swipe at his too.
Jenny bounds over to him and puts a hand on his arm. “I am so excited for you! I’m gonna miss you like crazy, but it’ll be much nicer seeing you at your apartment instead of here. I’m stuck at work today, but I’ll stop over as soon as I can, all right?”
Will smiles at her warmly. “Thanks, Jenny. I’m going to miss you too. But something tells me I’ll still be seeing you—that is, if Jason has anything to say about it.”
“Mmm, I certainly hope he does, then,” Jenny says in a playful voice. “Now, get out of here! You’re no longer part of the sick people club!” She squeezes Will’s arm before she walks away.
Now it’s just Elizabeth and me standing with Will and the orderly, and the floor has resumed its normal activities.
“Are you ready?” I ask Will.
“Yeah, let’s go,” he says, grinning again.
We make our way through the hospital, and I walk beside Will, watching him the whole time. He still looks happy but thoughtful as he watches all the people going about their day. It occurs to me that he hasn’t seen this many people in months; his exposure has been limited to the hospital staff and the few visitors he’s gotten. I wonder if it seems strange to him.
We get to the main lobby, and Elizabeth helps Will put on his coat while I go get my car. I leave it running at the curb, and I expect to see the orderly wheeling Will out already, but I don’t.
I walk back through the glass doors and find Will still sitting in his chair with a determined look on his face. His coat is on, but Elizabeth is still holding the scarf and gloves I brought for him, and she looks frustrated.
“Will, what’s wrong?” I ask as I walk up to stand in front of him.
“I want to walk out of here. I didn’t come here of my own free will, so I didn’t get to walk in, but I want . . . I need to walk out. I can’t explain it; it’s just something I need to do.”
“Okay, sweetheart,” I say, taking the scarf from Elizabeth’s hands and wrapping it around his neck.
He narrows his eyes at me, but I pay him no mind.
“It’s cold outside. It’s going to take you longer to walk out of here than it would to leave in the wheelchair, so I want you to be warm, all right? You get your way, but I also get mine.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “Fine.”
Elizabeth loads Will’s things into the car while I flip up the footplates on his chair and retrieve his cane.
“He’s not supposed to—” The orderly begins to object, but I silence him with a look.
“He survived cancer. If he wants to walk out of here, then that’s what he’s going to do.”
Will looks at me appreciatively, and I put an arm under his shoulder and help him to his feet. It takes him a moment to steady himself, but then he begins taking slow, shuffling steps toward the door, leaning heavily on his cane.
I know this is a bad idea, and he’s going to be exhausted after this, but I can’t argue with the determination in his eyes. Will rarely takes a stand on anything, so for him to insist on this, it must be really important to him.
I walk beside him, but as he reaches the open glass doors, a gust of cold wind assaults him, and he takes a gasping breath. He stops and sways, and I put my shoulder under his and my arm around his back.
“Are you all right?”
He closes his eyes wearily. “Yeah. But . . . can you help me the rest of the way? I’m really tired, and I’m afraid I’m going to fall.”
“Of course I can,” I tell him, my heart aching that he couldn’t do this completely on his own. “And I’d never let you fall.”
We make it to the car, and as soon as I help him sit, he lies back against the seat, completely exhausted. I help him get settled, reclining the back so he can rest more comfortably, and by the time I’m done, his eyes are already closed.
The orderly loads the wheelchair into the trunk, and I hurry around to my side of the car. Will is already asleep, and not even the slamming of the car door makes him stir.
I reach for the gearshift, but my hand never gets there because I glance over at Will, and suddenly, it hits me—I hold his life in my hands now. It's not the same as being responsible for making his medical decisions when he couldn't, where whatever I decided was carried out by trained professionals. No, I’m directly responsible now—responsible for making sure he takes all his medications, responsible for making sure the apartment stays as germ-free as possible, responsible for doing everything he can't do for himself, and responsible for watching him for even the smallest sign of illness. The enormity of it floors me.
I look over at him, passed out from exhaustion after being awake for two hours and walking fifty feet. He's still so weak, and he looks so . . . frail. I notice the thinness of his fingers resting on his lap and the pallor of his skin. He's still wearing his black beanie to keep his bald head warm and his surgical mask to protect him from the germs of others. He looks as if a stiff wind could blow him over, and it nearly did as he tried to make his way to the car. Oh God, can I really do this? What if he gets sick and it's my fault? After all he's endured to get here, what if I fail him?
A twinge of panic shoots down my spine, and I grip the steering wheel tightly. How the hell am I going to do this? Just as my thoughts begin to spiral out of control, I nearly jump out of my skin as there's a sharp rap on the window. The security guard is standing there, looking at me with concern. I nod at him, putting my hand on the gearshift to pull out, when I suddenly feel Will's touch.
"Everything okay?" he asks groggily, his beautiful green eyes meeting mine, his gaze full of love and trust.
And just as quickly as it came, the fear is gone. "Everything's fine, sweetheart. We're going home."
He smiles at me as his eyes drift closed again, and he's out almost immediately.
I can do this. He's suffered through so much to get here—he's done his part, and now I have to do mine. He believes in me now, just as I believed in him when he went through the chemo, and I believe in us—I always have. Sure, this is scary as hell, but it's not the hardest part. He made it through the hardest part because he believed what I was telling him, and if I have to, I'll tell us both again until we get through this. It's going to be all right. Everything is going to be fine.
This time when I look over at him, I don't see the weakness or the frailty. I see the man who survived chemotherapy and a stem cell transplant against the odds because he wanted to be with me. I see the man I love and would do anything for because he's already done the impossible for me.
I pull away from the curb as the warmth of my love for Will floods my chest. It's time to take him home.
The drive is uneventful, and Will sleeps the whole way until I pull up in front of the apartment building. Jason is standing just inside the doors, and he comes out as soon as he sees us.
"Will, we're home," I say softly, rubbing my fingers over his.
He opens his eyes, and I see the crinkles in the corners as he smiles.
"It's so strange—I left here at the height of summer, and now it's basically winter. It really brings home how much of life I've missed."
"You didn't miss it; you just spent it somewhere else," I say, but the smile has faded, “somewhere I could meet you and fall in love with you.” The smile comes back again.
"Good point," he says, jumping a little as Jason taps on the window.
Jason grins at him excitedly, and he already has Will’s wheelchair set up and ready.
Will turns back toward me, and again I see that determined look in his eye. “I can walk up to the apartment.”
Argh, I want to let him do this, but again, it’s a colossally bad idea, and this time, common sense needs to win out.
“Yes, you can, but I’d really rather you didn’t because I’d still like to spend some time with you today.”
“Tori—”
“Wait a moment; I’m not finished,” I tell him gently, raising my hands to calm him. “I have no doubt you could walk all that way, but when you got there, you’d be totally exhausted and probably sleep for the rest of the day, and I wouldn’t get to spend any time alone with you on our first day living together.”
His eyebrows go up a fraction, but he’s still scowling at me.
“And, on the off chance you can’t make it all that way, what if you get so tired you trip and fall, like you were worried about at the hospital? Then we’ll have to take you right back there, and this won’t be your first day home after all.”
He opens his mouth to argue, but I don’t give him the chance.
“Please, sweetheart? Just for getting back and forth from the hospital until you’re stronger? You probably won’t need to use it in the apartment—”
The look in his eyes tells me I need to back away from that one quickly.
“Okay, you won’t need to use it in the apartment, but the hallways are long to get to and from the elevator, and since you’re still not steady, you’ll be touching the wall the whole way, and Lord knows if and when it ever gets cleaned. Is it really worth it?”
He sighs, and I know I have him with that one. I hate to use his fear of getting sick against him, but if it’ll help me to ensure he doesn’t overexert himself, then I’ll stoop that low.
“All right, but soon, I want to be walking to and from the car,” he says, the fire still in his eyes.
“Sweetheart, as soon as you’re able, I’ll be the loudest one in the cheering section.” I put my hand over his. “I’m only doing this because I love you, and I don’t want to see you have a bad day today.”
“I know.” Will concedes to my logic, his green eyes now warm instead of blazing. “I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated and a bit on edge. You’re right about the wheelchair, at least for now.”
That’s more concession than I thought I was going to get, so I accept it with a smile. “No worries, sweetheart. But let’s get out now. Jason looks cold.”
Will looks back over at Jason, who looks a bit windswept and is hunching his shoulders. “Oh, oops,” he says, the tension finally leaving his voice.
I get out of the car, and Jason takes that as his hint to open Will’s door. “It’s about time. I thought you’d changed your mind and decided to go back to the hospital.”
“Shut up, smartass, and help me get out of the car.” Will snaps at him, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Yes sir!” Jason answers smartly, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Will’s finally relaxing a little bit.
Jason gets Will situated in his chair, then puts his hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t you take him up, and I’ll park the car. This is a big day for you two.”
I smile at him appreciatively. “Thanks, Jason.”
“Although I hate to miss seeing Will lose his shit when he sees what you’ve done to his apartment,” Jason says a little louder so Will can hear him, and the look Will gives him when he turns assures me that Will would be beating the crap out of Jason right now if he were able.
“Don’t mind him, Tori,” Will tells me. “I’m not going to flip out, no matter what you did to my apartment. I’m just happy to be home.”
“I know, sweetheart.” At least Jason managed to lighten the mood.
Will’s all smiles again as I push him through the lobby, looking around eagerly at everything.
“Has it changed much?” I ask as we stop in front of the elevator.
“No, but I’ve been staring at the same four walls for so long, it’s nice to see something different and familiar. I love this building.”
“I do too,” I say, putting my hand against the worn bricks that form the walls of the lobby. “This is my home now—our home now.”
Will’s eyes dance as he smiles at me, but something is . . . off. It’s as if he’s trying too hard. But I bite back the question that’s burning on the tip of my tongue; if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that Will will tell me what’s bothering him when he’s good and ready and not a moment before. Pestering will only make him defensive and stressed, and that’s the last thing I want right now. So I grin back at him and wheel him up to the apartment.
Jason catches up to us just outside the door, and Elizabeth has already gone in with Will’s things.
“Here we are, sweetheart,” I say as I open the door, and Jason steps behind Will to wheel him in.
