The Caregiver - By Shelley Shepard Gray Page 0,60
through the day. She’d already learned that even the best of explanations could never tell her exactly what she wanted to know—and that was why in the world a twenty-two-year-old woman would be struck with cancer.
When his speech wound down, and Lucy looked more confused than ever, a silence permeated the room.
Obviously, both Lucy and the doctor were waiting for her to say something. Anything to illustrate her understanding. With a sigh, Mattie faced the inevitable. “I’m going to be here longer than just one night, aren’t I?”
The kind doctor’s eyes softened. Like he understood just what a hardship it was for her. “I think so.” Looking down at her chart, he murmured, “Your body is having a difficult reaction to some of the drugs. I’m worried about your swollen hands and feet.”
Looking at her hands, which were indeed terribly red and swollen, Mattie nodded. She’d been worried about them, too . . . but hadn’t wanted to say anything.
“We’ll cross our fingers that your stay will be just for one night,” Dr. Wilmington said. “I’m hoping the change in the dosage of your medicine will alleviate the problems. But we’ll need to keep a close eye on you. We can’t be too careful, you know.”
“I suppose not.” Looking Lucy’s way, she added drily, “I’ll cross my fingers, too.”
“And you will pray, too, yes?” Lucy asked in Pennsylvania Dutch.
“Of course,” she replied. But of course that was a lie. She wouldn’t be praying. Praying didn’t help.
“Mattie, after you’re admitted and we get more of your tests results back, I’ll stop by your room,” Dr. Wilmington said. “In the meantime, do you have any more questions?”
“Nee.” After all, there was really nothing to say.
Gently patting her arm, he smiled at both her and Lucy, then exited.
In a furtive motion, Lucy wiped her eyes. Mattie pretended she didn’t see, though her heart went out to her cousin. It was difficult to hear such bad news. Especially the first time. So she attempted to lighten things up. “Well, there goes our fun afternoon.”
But instead of Lucy joking right back, she flinched. “Mattie, I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t you worry none. There’re lots and lots of people who are watching every little part of me, Lucy. I’ll be okay.”
“It’s not your cancer I’m worried about, it’s your feelings.”
“My feelings?” Mattie raised an eyebrow. “My feelings don’t matter, Lucy.”
“Of course they do. Why, it’s your spirit and your hope that are the most important right now.” Looking her over, Lucy’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not giving up, are you?”
“Of course not.”
“You better not. Things will get better, I promise. They always do.”
Mattie wished her mind was clearer. Her cousin had a tender heart, and only wanted to make things better. The right thing to do would be to offer some kind of consolation. Something to ease Lucy’s worries and make sure her cousin would believe that everything was going to be all rosy. But at the moment, Mattie didn’t have anything more to say. The disease was taking over her life, bit by bit.
She used to feel she was so strong. She used to feel like she could do anything—even fix Lucy’s life. Even fix Lucy.
Now it was all too apparent that she couldn’t even fix herself.
Looking at her light teal dress lying on the back of Lucy’s chair, she mused, “Do you think I could get dressed? I hate these thin hospital gowns they make me wear.”
Lucy brightened. “Yes, changing would be better. I’ll go ask.”
But just as she opened the door, another nurse popped through.
“Mattie, I heard you’re going to visit with us for a few days,” she said, her voice crisp.
“I heard that as well.” Desperately, she looked at her dress. If she had on her clothes, at least she could still be herself on the outside. “Can I get dressed?”
“There’s no need, dear. We’re going to call in an orderly to help move you to a wheelchair. Then we’ll transfer you from the medical center to the main hospital building.”
With a sympathetic look, Lucy said, “My cousin will be cold dressed just in that gown . . .”
“Oh, we’ll cover you up in warm blankets,” the nurse replied as she moved around the room, gathering Mattie’s things into a neat pile. “Don’t you worry, dear. We’ll have you snug as a bug, head to toe.”
Mattie sighed as depression weighed down on her again. Though her brain told her everything the nurse said made sense, it was never more evident that she was supposed