Sunlight peeked through the shitty linen that this hospital called curtains. I struggled to roll over onto my back. The wires tugged and my left arm ached from the dull poking of the butterfly needle slowly dripping medication into my bloodstream. Lifting a weak, pale arm over my eyelids, I tried to block out the rogue beams of sunlight. The beeping of the machines made it too hard for me to even consider falling back asleep. I rubbed my eyes slowly, gauging how I felt this morning. The past few days had been quite rocky, the doctors weren’t even sure I was going to make it through yesterday, let alone into today.
“Barrie, darling? Are you awake?” my mother asked from the stiff plastic chair on my side, her once bright and life-filled face was hollowed out with the echoes of the hospital. I hated what I was doing to her, letting her spend her days sleeping in a chair in a hospital and watching my every move. She watched me like a hawk, as if I would break if she looked away for even a second. That’s what cancer did to moms, it made them worry, made them shells of the moms we once knew.
“Unfortunately. I really wanted to sleep more.” My voice scratched its way out of my mouth. The medications pumping through me made my throat feel like it had been ripped up by glass. Cancer didn’t just hurt moms, it sucked for us too. “How’d you sleep?” I asked my mother, looking through the tubes and monitors on the side of my bed to meet her worried gaze. Pushing myself up, I felt the sting of another IV site in my chest. It was times like these that I felt thankful for the high pain tolerance I had developed. Being able to hide the discomfort from all the pinching and prodding of the doctors and inexperienced interns gave my mom one less thing to worry about. It was the least I could do for her.
“Alright. The doctors came a few times but you did well last night,” she said, standing up to sit next to me on the slab of concrete this hospital called a bed. The paper thin sheets fell at my waist, hiding the fragile legs that were supposed to carry me through my days.
“That’s good, I guess.” I shrugged, I was just grateful to be here another day. There used to be a time when I didn’t have to worry about this, when I could just be a kid. The feeling of mom’s hand on my bare head ripped me away from my thoughts. I sunk into her touch, just wanting all of this to be over. They thought I was getting better, I rang the bell a year ago and yet here we were again.
A soft knock interrupted the quiet and Dr. Sherman appeared from behind the big brown door, along with my nurse Alex. “Well look who’s awake early.” Dr. Sherman joked as she walked to my bedside. “How you feeling, sweetheart?” she asked, my chart in her hands. I admired Dr. Sherman, her long blonde hair and healthy looking face made me envious. She was all I wanted, a little bit of normal.
“Just peachy.” I smiled up at her.
“And mom, how are we doing?” Dr. Sherman asked, her smile sinking as they made eye contact.
“A bit tired but we’ll manage. Do we have any news?” Mom asked, her hand gripping mine as we sat on this tiny bed hoping that once again Dr. Sherman would say I was okay and this was just a cold, that I could go home.
“The initial sarcoma is as small as it was before, and it’s even in the same spot in the femur. We had no reason to believe that it would cause any future problems,” Dr Sherman said, then took a deep breath before continuing. “However, it has spread.”
It felt like all of the air had been ripped out of the room. My heart lodged itself in my throat as I choked down a sob. I thought this was over, they promised it was over.
“The blood panel came back and it does appear that the cancer has spread to your blood cells. I am so sorry that I have to tell you this, Barrie,” Dr. Sherman explained as delicately as she could.
She started to talk again, but I couldn’t hear her. Her words, my mother, Nurse Alex, Dr. Sherman herself and the dreadful room I had spent way too much time in started to disappear. All I could hear were my own thoughts. How could this have happened? I did everything I could’ve done, I tried my best. My brain spiraled, my breath came out in ragged pants, and the tears unleashed in a flood.
So this was the end, this is what it feels like?
“Barrie, honey, did you hear me?” My mother’s soft voice dragged me back and the world started to focus again.
“What? I’m sorry,” I choked, wiping the tears off my face.
“It’s alright sweetie. I was just telling Dr. Sherman that we were good to start another round of chemo, right? They caught it early, honey, this is a good thing.” My mother masked the worry in her eyes with unending optimism.
I nodded slowly, wishing that today could start again. Wishing my life could start again.
My mother told me it would be better to do my treatments in the common room of the Pediatric floor, that way I wasn’t stuck inside these four grey walls. She told me a lot of things, actually, but I’m not sure I heard any of them. I think they were encouraging things, hopeful things, look-on-the-bright-side things. But the only thing I heard was “it has spread.” The phrase played in my mind on a loop, winding over and over again until the words lost their meaning. Until I had lost my meaning.
It could have been minutes that passed, maybe hours or even days, I had no way of knowing. Everything looked and felt the same in here…endless, hopeless. It’s funny how time works inside a hospital. You can hear the minutes tick, see the hands of the clock move, but nothing ever seems to really progress. My mom could encourage me to get out of these four grey walls, but changing rooms wouldn’t keep the grey from closing in on me. So when they finally told me it was time for a treatment, I obliged her, dragging my monitor and IV pole behind me to settle on a small blue couch in the common room. There were other little kids around me, playing happily with their parents, yet the only thing I noticed was the metal IV pole and how they were tethered by a million wires. Just like me. All hoping that one day we could leave. Those of us who were lucky enough maybe could leave, could start their life fresh, but people like me, we never get to.
Dr. Sherman set up my drip into my IV and I stared blankly at the wall, admiring the giraffe mural that was painted there. It was such a childish painting yet it reminded me of all of the days I spent in this room throughout my young life. It brought me back to the days I spent playing with my cousin Rory. She would come everyday for the first few years, when we were both too young to understand what I was doing here.
“I’ll have Nurse Alex come get you once it’s done and then you’re good to go,” Dr. Sherman said, patting my arm and leaving me in the misery that was cancer. Staring at the walls, I remembered the many nights I have spent in this unit, the way some people remember sleepovers or birthday parties at a bowling alley. Their memories were full of freedom and adventure, mine were full of treatments and needles, tests and bad news. I wanted to have a normal day of life, to some day understand what it would be like to not feel like this. To not feel cheated, isolated, and scared. I don’t know how long it had been before another small, frail body plopped into the seat next to me. Her face was bright, even with the sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks, the scarf that wrapped her head made her even brighter.
“I’ve never seen you before. I’m Delilah,” she said, sticking a bony, tube clad hand out to me.
“I, ah, I just came back, I’m Barrie,” I stammered, surprised by her brazen introduction.“What are you here for?” I asked the strange girl.
“Oh you know, just visiting. This seemed like a fun place to hang out.” Delilah joked. A smile found its way to my face for the first time in a long time. It felt foreign and tight. “I’m kidding, I promise. But brain cancer, Stage 3. Quite the doozy huh? What about you?” she asked, turning her small body to face me.
“Newly diagnosed leukemia but it was originally sarcoma,” I responded. In a hospital you discuss the type of disease ravaging your bodies the way people on the outside would discuss the weather. As if there wasn’t more to us than the sickness.
“Don’t worry, Ivy just rang the bell over leukemia. You’ll be outta here in no time,” she said with a shrug and a smile. I remember Ivy from my last visit here, she wasn’t as sick as the rest of us but she wasn’t doing well. Mom told me that she had been able to go home too, but I didn’t really think that anyone truly got to leave this place.
“I remember her from last time. She was cool,” I stated, not knowing what else to say to this stranger. I wasn’t ever good at making friends. Spending years in and out of hospitals made it really hard to ever form a genuine connection.
“Want to go to the arcade room? I heard that there’s an air hockey table there,” Delilah asked. I nodded, eager to leave the dreariness of the common room. We both reached for our poles, our lifelines in this place, and stood up slowly, frail legs wobbling against the simple task.
The arcade room was small, but fortunately empty. That was the one good thing about this place…no lines, no waiting. We found ourselves on either side of the air hockey table, and I grabbed the paddle, hoping to have enough strength for the game.
“You better be ready for me to kick your ass, Barrie. I’m pretty good at this.” Delilah laughed as she switched the table on, the whirring sound of the air rushing out of the table pushed the puck toward me. I struck it slowly toward her, hoping it would slide into her goal.
“You wish!” I exclaimed as the puck came flying back at my goal. I pushed my paddle in front of it, blocking her shot, and sent another one toward her. We probably looked ridiculous, giving it everything we had to make the puck move at what was probably a snail’s pace by anyone else’s standards, but the game and the laughter made everything feel normal. As if it was just another day at the arcade with a friend.
I didn’t realize how long we had been playing when Nurse Alex burst into the room, her panicked face fading to relief once she saw us both.
“Girls, you know you need to tell someone when you leave, we need to be monitoring your medication! Delilah you know better. Barrie, let me switch your IV’s really quick,” She said, rushing to my side of the table, switching fluids on my pole with new ones. Delilah made faces at me from across the white surface, forcing me to stifle a giggle. “Okay we are done, sorry I had to interrupt. Have so much fun. But next time please remember that you need to tell someone at the nurses station when you are leaving, we don’t want to mess up any medication routines.” She lectured behind a smile, running out of the room as fast as she had come in. Delilah and I got back to our game, placing bets and making each other laugh. I hadn’t had this much fun since before, before the cancer.
***
This became the routine for months. Each morning Dr. Sherman would tell my mom and I how I was progressing and how my body was reacting to the medicine, and more specifically how the cancer was reacting to the medicine. Then I would start my medicine drip and wait for Delilah in the common room. Once I found her we would make our slow walk to the arcade room, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. We played games there all day, Nurse Alex came in whenever one of us needed a med change, and then we were left on our way. It was a staple in our days, we had this time together and we both looked forward to it every single day. It was what kept us going, what made the long days bearable. Delilah was my best friend, and I was hers. For once in my life, I felt a silver lining from the cancer.
We both were starting to do better. Delilah’s cancer at the stem of her brain was slowly releasing pressure and she assured me that Dr. Sherman had a surgery planned for when most of the pressure was released. She had a plan of action, and a ticket out of here was just within her grasp. The cancer count in my blood had started going down. Dr. Sherman was hopeful I’d be out of here in no time. This news was something I hadn’t dared hope for. Just a few months ago, my new diagnosis came crashing in like a tsunami, destroying every good thought in its path. Now here we were, seeing the sun shine again, watching the waves clear and finding a clear path forward. None of it seemed possible, and hope seemed almost too good to be true.
“Hey, there you are,” Delilah said as her small body bumped into mine by the fish tanks. I loved watching them swim around, I felt like the fish understood me. They understood what it was like to make the most of this situation, to make the most of being stuck here.
“Hey sorry. I just wanted to look at the fish. Ready to go play?”
“I have a better idea.”
“Delilah, we can’t get in trouble again,” I stated. She seemed to never remember how much trouble we got in for sneaking up to the roof one night. “I thought Dr. Sherman was going to lose her mind that night,” I chuckled.
“It’s not that extreme I promise,” she laughed, extending her tube free hand to me. “Just follow me, it’ll be fun.” I sighed, pretending to be annoyed, but I followed my best friend, wondering what she had in mind. We made our way to the cafeteria, looking suspicious in our blue-grippy socks and johnnies hanging off our bodies. The smell of chicken tenders flooded my nose as we rounded the corner.
“Best idea you’ve ever had. I’m so hungry,” I said, making my way toward the line. Delilah followed closely behind as we got our food. The hospital was a brutal place, but at least the food wasn’t horrible. We sat down at a table, our dinner in front of us. I lifted a fry to my mouth, savoring the salty flavor.
“Have you ever thought about what life would be like if we weren’t here?” Delilah asked.
“I mean, all the time, I’ve always wanted to know what it would be like to have a normal life.” I said, popping another fry in my mouth. “Like would we be doing late night runs to McDonalds instead of the hospital cafeteria? Sounds way more fun. What about you?”
“I think about it all the time. I always wondered who I’d be if I wasn’t here, the kind of person I’d be. If I would have friends or a boyfriend, maybe even a social life. I always thought people would love me. But I’ve spent most of my damn life within these walls. But I wouldn’t change a thing, I don’t think,” she said, slowly chewing a chicken tender. “I hate being sick, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t want to miss what I have here.”
“What do you have here that is in any way better than not being sick?” I asked her, the confession she made was puzzling to me.
“I met my best friend, there’s no one I’d rather have as my maid of honor at my wedding one day,” she said, smiling at me.
“You mean that?”
“Of course I do.”
“I don’t think I’d change it for that either. My best friend is way too important.” I smiled, putting another bite of dinner into my mouth.
***
Another day, another round of meds in the common room. Dr. Sherman said I was getting better, getting stronger and responding well to the medicine. I hoped I could leave here soon, it’s what I had been dreaming about, but my thoughts went to Delilah. I didn’t want to leave if she couldn’t also. We were doing this together, so I felt hopeful for the both of us. She had made my time here bearable, her friendship had gotten me through my darkest moments. And I felt so grateful for that, for her. I couldn’t wait for her to join me today, I hadn’t seen her since the night before, and we had an air hockey tournament tied at 3 games a piece, so it was time for a tie breaker.
Feet swinging, slightly brushing the cold tiled floor underneath me, I waited for Delilah. I waited and I waited and I waited. She was never this late to hang out with me, she usually came out of her room the same time I did. A commotion from down the hall startled me, doctors and nurses started rushing around yelling medical terms and questions that sounded like gibberish.
“We need a crash cart in here!” The voice echoed down the hall, sending chills down my body. The urge to investigate what was going on overpowered the sinking feeling that snuck its way into my stomach. My clammy hand gripped the icy cold pole of my machines. Pushing it ahead of me, I made my way down the hall. The familiar site of Dr. Sherman’s long blonde hair appeared as I pushed on, nurses ran from the room to the supply closet at the end of the hallway, and back again. Oh please don’t let it be her room.
From behind the commotion I could see Delilah’s frail body laying limp in her small bed, the monitor she was attached to was flatlining. My pounding heart tried to slow me down, but I had to see. I had to prove that it wasn’t my best friend, it couldn’t be.
“Delilah?” I asked, as I approached the room. Dr. Shermans body whipped around, eyes full of fear and anger as she looked at me.
“You can’t be in here, Barrie,” she yelled, grabbing the defibrillators out of Nurse Alex’s hands. “Someone get her out of here now!” A nurse grabbed my arm and tried to whisk me out of the room, to save me from this memory she knew I wouldn’t want to have.
“Delilah, oh no, Delilah?” I plead, my voice coming out no more than a whisper. The grip the nurse had on my arm tightened as she started to pull me out of the room. I cried her name out again, my hands pushing the nurse off of me. I ran to the bed next to Dr. Sherman. “Wake up wake up wake up wake up!” I screamed at her motionless body. “You can’t do this, Delilah! You can’t leave!” I screamed at her, tears starting to spill over my cheeks.
“Charge to 300, 3..2..1.. Clear.” Dr. Sherman called out, pressing the instruments to her small body. She absorbed the shock but nothing changed, no motion in her body, no spike in her heart rate. Dr. Sherman threw the defibrillators down on the crash cart, working on her body manually. My mind was caught in a dream, swirling from the scene in front of me to the fear that shook my body. Dr. Sherman tried until the sweat poured down her face, but there was nothing she could do. Delilah’s body couldn’t take anymore.
“Time of death, 11:45 AM,” Dr. Sherman said quietly as she walked out of the room. Delilah’s parents were in the corner, holding one another. Her mother let out a loud sob before she crumpled onto the ground. The room started to spin as I stared at her body, her eyes closed, as if in sleep. She looked at peace like this, but it couldn’t stop the way my heart raced, the way I hoped it would explode out of my chest. That way I wouldn’t have to deal with the pain. I reached my hand out to her, touching her cold shoulder.
“Why, Delilah, why? You promised we would leave together, we were almost out of here!” I screamed, the tears started flowing down my cheeks, as if someone had let a damn finally free. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing, only a sob broke free from my silence, wracking through my body and sending me tumbling to the ground. I hit the floor with a light thud, I pulled my legs into myself, trying to be as small as possible. The sobs took over me, hands covering my face.
Delilah was doing better, she was doing better than me. Dr. Sherman was more optimistic about her than me, she had a better chance at getting out of this place. She was supposed to be okay, that was supposed to be me in that bed. Motionless and cold, finally escaping the hell that cancer had put me through. But here I was, in a puddle on the cold concrete ground of my best friend’s hospital room. The Universe was playing a sick joke on me, watching me break over and over again, being responsible for my breaking.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I asked why? Why did I get another chance? I had a chance already, when they sent me home before this new diagnosis. Hell, I was almost through my second chance, had defied the odds again, but why didn’t she even get her first? Why was it taken from her? She didn’t deserve this, she was getting better, right? That’s what the doctors said. She was supposed to move out of this goddamn hospital and live the life we had always talked about. She was supposed to make new friends and make new memories and find the love of her life. She had plans, and it was stolen from her. But me? I didn’t have any of that thought out, I wasn’t ever supposed to make it that far. Until I met her, and we planned it out together. She made me believe I could have a future, she helped get me through day after goddamn day of these grey walls, and now I was supposed to just go on without her? Live my life, have all the experiences she would never get to have?
I sat there for a long time, body still limp after the tears stopped flowing. I couldn’t accept what happened, and I certainly couldn’t accept that it was all for nothing. Delilah came into my life when I was at my lowest, when I thought there was nothing left to look forward to except more days of sickness and pain until it all faded away. But she gave me the greatest gift anyone could ever give me, and that was the gift of hope. I picked my body up off the ground, using my pole to steady me up. I stared at her limp body, a silent prayer of thanks on my lips.
***
Delilah’s mom asked me if I could speak at the service. I didn’t even know what I was expected to say. How could I put into words what it feels like to lose your best friend like that? I sat at the front of the service hall, my mother on my left and her mother on my right. People kept telling me they were sorry for my loss, and knew how much I meant to her. I accepted it all with a graceful smile on my face, trying not to let my sobs be too loud. We listened to family and friends talk about Delilah, about everything that she was.
When it was finally my turn to speak, I was ushered up onto the stage with Delilah’s mom. She stood by my side as I brought the microphone down to my level.
“Hi everybody. I’m Barrie and I was Delilah’s best friend. We met at the hospital, we hung out together everyday since I got my second diagnosis. I promised her a lot of things, but that’s not important right now,” I said, taking a small and quivering breath. “When I got that second diagnosis I knew my life was over. The second I got put back into that hospital, I knew it was the end. I had no goals, no dreams, no wants, no experience I really wanted to have. Because I think I was just done fighting. But then I met the brightest star in my universe, she lit up every room she entered. Delilah was one of a kind, never once was she upset about where we were, never once did she complain about how sick she was. She took it with grace and love, never once wanting a life different than the one she was living. Obviously we fantasized about being able to live a normal life, but she didn’t ever want it more than the life she had. Delilah taught me a lot, she taught me how to live. I’m never going to get more time with her, but I will be able to look back on those months I had with her and cherish every memory. But fuck you cancer, you took my best friend from me.” I stepped back, tears escaping the hold I tried to keep on them. I took the stairs slowly, trying to see past the sea of tears. Finding my seat, I tried to keep it together for the rest of the service.
Things don’t get easier, after closure. I thought that after the funeral and my speech I would feel better about what had happened, and what I had seen. I knew what I had to do now, I had to fight for every second of my days. It wouldn’t be easy, but I had her watching over me. Guiding me toward what I needed in life, she was the final push I needed to beat this. I lived for us both now, never letting anyone forget her but more importantly never forgetting what she gave me.
