teen
Author: Greywolf
Disclaimer: None of the Roswell character's belong to me, they belong to Jasim Katims, Fox, Upn, ect.
Summary: Hey, it just came to me. It's a short story...complete in one posting. Just read it and see.
“"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—
Of cabbages—and kings—
And why the sea is boiling hot—
And whether pigs have wings." ”
—Through the Looking-Glass
By Lewis Carrol
The sign on the door said Arnold Turner, PhD, Clinical Psychologist, and the argument had been going on for almost 45 minutes.
“Doctor, “he said, “I’m afraid to break the news to them. They’ve been through so much already, and just when they finally were getting caught up…just when their lives were beginning to have some semblance of normalcy…now this.”
“I understand that Mr. Evans…., do you mind if I call you Phil? But you tell me the…outcome…is now unavoidable. You tell me they were deserted once. I really believe that if your wife just goes away…that they don’t know what happened….well that will be more of a desertion…more traumatic even than if they were told the truth. It is a sad situation, and I know everyone’s first impulse is to protect the children from something like this…but I really don’t see how that’s possible.”
“But how?” he asked,”….how do you tell two eight year old kids that their mother is going to die?
It had started almost eight weeks ago. She’d told him she thought it was just indigestion, and she’d ignored it for almost a week, not that it would have made any difference by that time. The ultrasound had been first and had shown a number of lesions in and around the pelvis…lesions that hadn’t been there on her fertility workup six years previously. The PET/CT was done the next day and it demonstrated masses of tumor throughout the pelvis and lower peritoneum. The thin needle biopsy was done the very same day. The tumor cells seen in the needle biopsy left no real doubt as to the diagnosis.
They had decided that there was no reason to tell the kids…not until they had a better idea of what would be the ultimate outcome. They’d talked to the surgeon first, by reputation the best cancer specialist in El Paso.
“I’m afraid we really have nothing to offer you surgically, Mrs. Evans. The type of cancer you have can in fact be spread by surgery. If we were to go in it would likely seed itself up through the incision causing it not to heal. Unless something catastrophic were to happen in your abdomen…unless you were to obstruct your bowel…be unable to pass food through your intestine, I certainly couldn’t recommend surgery, and even then it would only be…palliative. My recommendation to both of you is to go see an oncologist…the medical center has several excellent oncologists, and see what they have to offer.”
Neither he nor his wife had been badly ill, the fertility workup that had told them they would not be having children of their own had been, until now, their most intensive contact with the medical community, but both of them recognized that when one physician makes an appointment for you with another…..for two hours later in the same day…that this is not for a trivial problem. Even so, neither was really emotionally prepared for the words of the oncologist. This was all just happening too quickly to really come to grips with it..
“You mean you can do NOTHING?” he asked, gripping her hand tightly as if by doing so he could hold on to her forever.
“”That’s not what I said, Mr. Evans. I said that this is at a stage where the outcome will not be very good, no matter what we do. We can certainly buy your wife some time…some good time….with radiation and chemotherapy…but the treatment is palliative. It won’t affect the ultimate outcome, it will merely delay it for a few weeks….”
He left Doctor Turner’s office more uncertain than ever what to do. They’d only had the children for two years and even now…even when they could finally speak English....when they could finally start to understand the world around them, they weren’t prepared for this. Hell, Philip knew he wasn’t prepared for this himself. How do you prepare for the loss of a spouse? The loss of someone who has been a part of you for eleven years?
As he walked into the oncologist’s office the nurse buzzed him through to the back. “She’s in treatment room four…”
The medication was almost done, the small bag piggybacked into the IV in her arm was almost flat. Diane looked…well horrible, actually.
“The nausea pretty bad?”
“Oh yes…I mean, I’m sure the premedication worked…at least it would have probably been worse without it, but even so…”
He understood. She was often nauseated for the entire evening after these treatments, one of the reasons the kids were staying with her sister this evening. The other reason was so they could have a private discussion. But that would wait until they were home.
Philip watched the nurse discontinue the IV, then assisted her in getting Diane into the wheelchair. They rolled her out the back door, and got her to the car.
“Front seat or back?”
“Front I guess. I’m less likely to vomit..”
He got her home in fifteen minutes, and assisted her slowly to the couch in the living room. He knew better than to talk to her about dinner…or any kind of eating for that matter. He left her only briefly, to get a small glass of 7up…heavy on the ice, and a straw to drink it with.
She sipped the drink slowly…she’d learned the hard way about the nausea and vomiting that the chemo could cause, worse even than the radiation treatments.
“What did Doctor Turner say?” she asked. Philip had a hard time making his eyes meet hers.
“Pretty much the same thing you were saying…that we need to tell them. I’m still not sure either of them can handle it. Isabel has just started considering this her home…us her parents. Little Max still doesn’t…..”
“You know…after all most two years, he’s never once called me Mommy? Even after I taught him how to speak English myself? If he calls me Mrs. Evans one more time I may take all those child rearing books and give him a good old-fashioned spanking with one of them….not that I even have the strength to make it painful anymore. Maybe it won’t be so bad for him that way…I mean if he never really does accept me as his mother the loss may be less…”
Philip fought back the tears, trying to put on a brave face. She had enough to deal with right now, without feeling she needed to help him feel better. But even if their adopted son didn’t miss her when she was gone…how could he…her husband… ever live without her?
It was three days later that she worsened. The pain from tumor that had metastasized to the bone had finally gotten severe enough that even the strongest oral pain killers were not really holding her, but even so she refused to go back to the hospital, deciding to spend what little time she had left with her family. The oncologist agreed, and the people from the hospice brought the equipment needed for IV narcotics to the Evans house. By the time they left, Diane Evans was reasonably comfortable…at least as comfortable as she would be anywhere.
But their mother being bedridden with IVs in her was not something that could pass unnoticed to the two eight year olds…however much Philip might have liked to spare them the pain. It was time to tell them. He took them aside and struggled to tell them the terrifying words…cancer…tumor…metastasis….terminal….their eyes growing wider with each word.
The tears were coming down little Izzy's face as she asked…”Ca—can we see her?”
“Of course, dear…just try not to tire her out. She doesn’t have much strength right now.”
Even through the pain Diane had to smile as she saw her children come in to her bedroom. Philip must have told them….even little Max’s big brown eyes looked up at her tearfully. She reached out her hands and the two children each took one, holding it gently. “I’m going to have to leave you, my dears. I want you to know I love you both and I’m depending on you…both of you…to take good care of your father for me.”
Max looked at Izzy and saw her looking back. The expression said everything…sacred vows be damned, this was Mommy. It was time to tell.
“I love you, Mommy,” said Max…as he hugged her tightly…and as she looked in Max’s eyes she knew it was alright. Everybody died sooner or later, but she could feel in his touch…feel in the connection that occurred as his big brown eyes gazed into hers, how much love he finally had for her. She’d lived long enough for Max to realize he was truly her son, and knowing that she knew she would die content.
And Diane Evans eventually did die content, and her obituary was printed in the Roswell Daily Chronicle:
- Diane Marie Evans, beloved mother of Dr. Max Evans and Isabelle Whitman, loving mother-in-law to Elizabeth Evans and Alex Whitman, grandmother to Maria Evans-Harrington, Michael Evans, Mark Evans, Philip Whitman, Alexia Darnell, and Isadore Valenti, passed in her sleep yesterday after a brief illness. She was pre-deceased by her husband of 57 years, Philip Evans. She is also survived by her nine great-grandchildren. She will be interred Tuesday, Aug 14 2052, in a private ceremony next to her husband Philip. The family suggests donations to the Cancer Society in lieu of flowers.