Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 130275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Mia and Leo had introduced me to some oncologists who they knew through their programs. I had spent days talking to them, hearing about their lives and careers. It only made me more determined to become a doctor too. When Dr. Susan Dela Cruz, one of the head oncologists in the local children’s hospital, had asked if I’d like to come to the cancer ward and shadow her, I wasn’t sure I could. But after talking to Mia and Leo, we decided it would be good for me.
I was racked with fear. But if this trip had taught me anything, it was that fear had to be faced to defeat it. I had to defeat it. I was done running away.
An hour later we arrived in the city and stopped in front of a tall white building—the children’s hospital. My memories of hospitals were shrouded in darkness. But I tried to shift my thoughts and instead try to see them as a place of safety and hope for those stricken by life-threatening illnesses.
A place of healing and not loss.
As we walked through the glass doors, the smell of disinfectant gathered around me. It immediately thrust me back to Poppy lying on her bed, in a coma, pierced with wires and oxygen. But I breathed through the pain of those memories and focused on when she’d left it. When she had come home to spend her final days with those she loved most. In peace.
Susan searched my face. “How are we feeling?”
“I want to do it,” I said and hoped Poppy’s hand was on my back like I had asked her. I needed her to help guide me through this. I followed Susan until we reached the oncology ward.
“We have a full ward,” Susan said, and my heart sank. So many children. She must have seen the sorrow in my eyes, as she reached out and placed her hand on my shoulder. “We are confident we can save many of them.”
But not all …
I nodded, unable to find my voice. I was giving myself grace. My strength and conviction to do this had ebbed momentarily, but I was still here. Still trying.
Susan placed a security code into the doors, and we entered the ward. Nurses came to speak to Susan. Not knowing the language, I couldn’t follow, so I let my gaze drift to the windows around the rooms. Sadness squeezed my lungs to the point of pain as I saw a young boy with no hair lying in bed, reading a book. He was pale, and thin, and beside him was a woman who I assumed was his mama, holding his hand like she would never let go. Beside him was another patient—a girl, no older than ten, asleep in her bed, only tufts of hair growing back on her smooth scalp.
An onslaught of memories rained down on me—remembering Poppy in these varying stages were like bullets piercing through my strength. Mia’s hand landed on my back, and for a second, I honestly thought I’d felt Poppy. “If it’s too much, we can step out for a few minutes,” Mia said, and I shook my head. I was staying. I wanted to stay. To face this.
It was time.
Mia nodded, just as Susan walked back to me with a chart. “I’m about to start rounds,” she said, observing my shaken state. “I know you won’t understand the language for most of this, but we have a girl, age fourteen, whose father is English. If you want, I thought you might like to speak with her.”
My pulse fluttered in my neck. Susan smiled. “She knows you’re coming. She’s excited to meet you.”
“Okay,” I rasped. Fourteen. Not much younger than Poppy was when she was diagnosed. I looked to Susan. “Is she getting better?”
I could tell immediately by Susan’s pained expression that she wasn’t. “She has stage four Hodgkin lymphoma. And she only has a few months left to live. She stopped responding to treatment.” My vision shimmered. She had the same disease as Poppy.
And she was dying.
“We want you to face things, Savannah, but only as much as you can take,” Mia said, and Susan nodded.
I pictured Poppy’s smiling face. How strong and vibrant she was right until the end. “I want to do it,” I rasped. “I want to talk to her.”
Susan’s responding smile was wide. “Let’s do rounds first; then I’ll take you to Tala.”
Tala. Her name was so beautiful.
I followed Susan into the first room, standing back enough to give her space to do her job. I listened to her soft tone as she spoke to the children, watched her smile wide and treat them with so much kindness and respect it was awe-inspiring.
Susan told me before we entered each room where the person was in their illness. If they had just started chemo, if they were just about done. But the most painful were those who were on palliative care. I would meet their tired eyes and smile. When some would try to smile back, when their parents would shake my hand, I was hit with a moment of pure anger. It wasn’t fair that they were losing their battles. It wasn’t fair that their families were losing them, slowly, day by day.