***
Last night I held Bethany close. There were times where she struggled, trying to get away and sleep on her side of the bed, but I crawled up against her and held her body firmly to mine. I wanted to be drunk on the feeling that is her, to hold her tight enough that she felt like an extension of myself.
We’ve only been in the waiting room for a couple of minutes when the nurse calls Bethany over to the reception area and hands her a tablet with some sort of pen attached. The two women speak for a few moments when Bethany turns towards me with a look of defeat crossing her face. “What’s the matter?” I inquire, wanting to help her in whatever way I can.
“Nothing, I guess.” She shrugs her shoulders staring down at the tablet in her hands as she takes a seat beside me.
I peer over and see the tablet asking for her personal information. You know, the usual stuff such as name, telephone number, address, date-of-birth, and insurance. “I might be pretty good at figuring out what you want, but I’m not a mind reader,” I chuckle, needing her to tell me what’s getting her down. It could be as simple as having cancer, but her mood was perfectly fine until she spoke to the receptionist.
Bethany ignores me, tapping away on the screen until she comes to a dead stop. I try not to look over and see what she’s failing to fill out, but I just can’t help it. “I don’t know what to put here,” she admits, sighing as she speaks.
“What do you mean? Put your insurance info there, sweetheart,” I reply, not thinking anything of it.
She gives me a look that makes me feel like I’m the dumbest man on the planet. There’s a time and a place where men choose to argue with their woman, in slight moments of confidence where we think we might actually win the argument. I can already tell I won’t be on the winning end of this. “I’m on his insurance. I don’t even have the card or any of that.”
Bethany hasn’t wanted to so much as speak his name in the last couple of weeks. Treating him like the kids in Harry Potter treat Voldemort.
A lot of men wouldn’t know how to handle this situation. Knowing their girlfriend is ill and needing medical treatment, without the proper assurances that they’d have help to pay for them. Fortunately for her— actually, for the both of us— I’m very well off.
“Whatever it is, I’ll pay for it. You’re going to get the medical treatment you need, regardless of the price.”
Her eyes go wide, “No. That’s asinine. I won’t let you do that.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not in charge here. I’ll do whatever I damn well please with my money, Bethany, including saving your life. I’m not going to sit here and let you tell me I can’t help you when you need my help.”
“I need you to be here for me, not to pay for all my bills.” It’s now I realize she hates the fact I’ve paid for everything. Hell, I’d apologize but it wouldn’t be sincere. I love knowing I’m providing for not only myself, but also am taking care of her needs as well. Many men couldn’t give a rat’s ass about this sort of shit. Looking back, it’s probably the way I was raised, and the man I was raised by.
“Beth, I’m not solely paying your bills. You might not look at it in the way I am, but I think I’m reducing your stress level by taking care of these little things. In fact, they’re some of the only things I can do to make your life a bit easier.”
“You were paying for my things before you found out I was sick,” she points out, and she’s not wrong.
Shit, so many women would complain about a man not paying for something, and here she is doing the exact opposite. “Call me a gentleman,” I grumble out, hoping she’ll stop the tirade she’s on.
“Bethany, you can come back now if you and your . . . man friend are ready,” the nurse says from the doorway in the corner of the room. I chuckle at the terminology she uses to describe me.
Bethany is quick to stand up, and I follow her, walking through the bland waiting room of nothing but gray walls and floors with pops of colors in the cushions of the chairs. We make our way through a narrow hallway and enter the third door on the left into an office like setting. I’m a bit confused that we’re not going into an exam room, but maybe we don’t have to.
This is a first for me— having someone in my life with cancer. Honestly, I’ve been a lucky man. Both my parents are relatively healthy and have no medical issues that I’m aware of. They simply got tired of being head of the Clan and handed the responsibility over to me about five years ago. Since then, they live in a remote part of Romania, relaxing on the hillside.
Bethany takes a seat in one of the leather chairs, and I sit beside her, taking her hand in my own. She may be trying to act strong, but there’s no fooling me. She needs support in every way she can get right now, both emotionally and physically.
A light rap to the door and in comes Dr. Santiago, the oncologist connection I was able to get via Ion. “Bethany, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says, extending his hand out to her. They both make their introductions, shaking his hand and then turns to me. “And you are?”
“Leon Gabor, Bethany’s boyfriend, and a good to friend Ion Petran. I’m sure you know what that means, yes?” I hold his hand heavily in my grasp, not letting the man go until he understands there is no fucking up here. He’ll help heal my girlfriend or he’ll die trying— quite literally.
“Yes, as I told your boss, I will do my best to help Bethany.” He breaks eye contact with me and looks to her, “You are somewhat of a lucky woman my dear. There are so many treatment options for you because of the stage you’re in. Too much time hasn’t passed and considering you’re in your early thirties and have no children, I’m assuming having a child is important to you?”
“Uh, yes, but I know this disease like the back of my hand. My mother had it when I was a young girl, and considering my family history I’d prefer to opt for a full hysterectomy. I want to eliminate the most risk that I can. Surely, you understand.”
Bethany refuses to look at me as she speaks to Dr. Santiago, obviously having already made up her mind. I don’t know if she sees me in her future for the long term, or even as a potential father to her kids later down the road . . . but if she had I assume she would’ve discussed this with me. Part of me wants to be pissed, but I say fuck it. There’s always adoption. The important thing here is that she lives to see another day.
“Yes, of course. With your family history, I’m sure you comprehend that doing this is irreversible and you will not be able to have a biological child in doing so.”
Bethany nods, “I do. Although, I’ve already prepared for that. I have eggs frozen at a cryobank in Philadelphia.”
Dr. Santiago looks very pleased at hearing this news. All I got from it is her eggs are frozen. “This is good news. You will be able to have the eggs fertilized and implanted into a surrogate if you feel that is a good decision to expand your family when the time comes.”
“Yes. I had planned for a situation like this to come up eventually. The cards never seemed to be in my favor.” Bethany mutters, looking off to the ground so she won’t have to face the gaze of her physician.