Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
But I’m human too. The reaction I’m holding back is disbelief that she can’t see that I’m alive. Maybe Astrid’s dad doing whatever he can to stay alive is more important than anyone’s feelings. I so badly want to let those words fly off my tongue.
But I don’t.
“I’m an awful person,” she whispers. “Because I want to go back to the life we had before your diagnosis, but we can’t. I wish I could un-know that you bought that apothecary. But I can’t. And I don’t know how to deal with these stupid thoughts and insecurities that won’t go away. I’m so sorry.”
I take two long strides and pull her into my embrace. “I got the diagnosis, but you’ve felt just as much pain. I don’t want you to apologize. Not ever. The ‘sickness and health’ part of marriage is hard to comprehend until we’re in the trenches with no good way out.”
When I step back to hold her at arm’s length, I focus on her tired, sunken eyes and prominent cheekbones. What is this doing to her health?
The stress.
The worry.
The guilt.
“Maybe it’s time for me to put on a suit and return to work for a few days a week. Give you some sense of normalcy again.”
She glances around uneasily, eyebrows pulled together. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to judge an idea as good or bad until you try it.”
After a few breaths of hesitation, she nods. “Promise to let me know if you’re feeling too much stress or unwell in any way?”
So many promises. It will be hard to keep them if anything goes wrong. Still, I smile and offer several tiny nods.
Relief washes over her face, and she hugs me. “Let’s go out to dinner tonight. Astrid’s been asking for pizza and ice cream.”
“That’s …”
The beginning of the end.
“Great. Sounds great.”
“Can you do me one more tiny favor?” She leans back, holding up her thumb and forefinger an inch apart.
“Anything.”
“Will you go to the doctor?”
I’m the only one in the room who is not surprised by the results of the scans.
Not surprised that they don’t detect cancer in my liver.
Not surprised that there’s only one tumor left in my pancreas, and it’s tiny.
“It’s rare, but sometimes we see situations like this that we can’t explain,” Dr. Faber says.
Situations.
Can’t explain.
I gave my body exactly what it needed, and it’s been healing. Why does that only make sense to me? Oh, that’s right … it didn’t make sense to me before I experienced it—before I became the miracle.
So, I don’t need Dr. Faber to bend a knee and admit that there might be more than one way to fight cancer. Even if I’m living proof, it doesn’t make me an expert.
Maybe it is nothing more than something rare and unexplainable.
I’m alive. My cancer is nearly gone—no more symptoms.
Do the details matter anymore?
If Amelia and the doctors want to call it a miracle from God, go for it. Really, I don’t care. I’m not looking to preach on the matter or write a book.
My wife wipes her happy tears.
“We can treat the remaining tumor,” Dr. Faber says.
I give her a look like she’s lost her fucking mind.
With a tight smile, she nods slowly. “Or we can recheck things in a few months.”
Or I can walk out of here and be done with this. No more poking, prodding, and scanning my body.
Amelia squeezes my hand as if prompting me to speak.
“Thank you for your time.” I stand. “If we have any more questions, we know how to reach you.”
“We’ll schedule a follow-up,” Amelia says while hiking her purse onto her shoulder.
“Or you can send me a reminder card like my dentist.” I give the doctor a toothy grin.
As soon as we exit the building, Amelia screams and jumps up and down.
Okay, this right here makes the follow-up appointment totally worth it. I haven’t seen her this excited since she discovered she was pregnant with Astrid.
“Baby! You’re going to live!” She throws herself into my arms.
I chuckle. “One day at a time.”
Truth? I don’t know how long this will last.
She kisses me over and over again, giggling like our daughter. “I know. Thank you. I wanted to believe that you were better, but knowing it for sure is exactly what I needed. We have to celebrate. I’m going to invite everyone.” She takes my hand and pulls me toward the car.
I hope that my body can feed off of her happiness because it feels like we’re slipping back into the same life that allowed me to get sick in the first place.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE YOU.
Scottie
“I’m nervous. I can’t believe I’m nervous. Why am I so nervous?”
Mom steps behind me, resting her hands on my bare shoulders while I stare out the window at the small gathering seated in white chairs behind the house.