“Your body hasn’t been responding as well to the treatment as we would like, and I’m afraid that means you’ve likely progressed to stage three where your other ovary is affected.”
Tegan heard her heart monitor spike as the words washed over her. There was a long pause. Too long. But she was terrified to ask the question. Eventually though, she just had to. “Am I going to die?”
Dr. Matthews gave a smile that was both heartbreaking and slightly reassuring. “Not if we can help it. We have one last bout of chemo to go. If that does nothing to improve the situation, we’ll have to go a full hysterectomy.”
Tegan blinked away the moisture leaking out of her eyes. She had her eggs frozen for this reason, or for something like this, but the thought of being cut open again, more of her insides being removed, made her feel like she was just parts. That her humanity had been stripped away slowly.
“Everything else being well, though, Tegan, you should be able to go home in a few days,” he offered cheerfully.
She turned to her side and sobbed. She had no home. Not anymore. She had applied for rent assistance, yet that only covered a quarter of what she needed. She had gone to work on all of her shifts for as long as she could, but the shaking in her hands made punching the orders on the screen so difficult. Her hands couldn’t even hold the hot take away cups without burning herself. Her boss had been as supportive as he could, but he had a business to run. She hadn’t been fired, but she had been told to not come back until she was well.
Which was fine, except her the real estate agents representing her landlords had been stretched to the limit on the ‘be nice to the sick girl’ mindset. She didn’t blame them; they too had a business to run. What she would do was anyone’s guess. She needed to have a plan. But right now? All she could concentrate on was not throwing up again.
The hand on her shoulder was warm and gentle but in no way comforting. “Please, go away...” she blubbered.
He removed his hand but said before leaving, “Please, try not to give up, Tegan. Even if hope is all we have, it’s something.”
The words were kind, but their meaning was lost.
13
Owen hadto wait for visiting hours to open, but he managed to sneak in wearing his customary hoodie and shades. He had no idea if the disguise served to make him inconspicuous, or intimidating, but he had rarely been identified when going out. Truthfully, as word of him quitting the sport filtered out more and more, he wondered what the reaction would be? He had already seen a newspaper article where Diaz claimed responsibility for retiring the great pretender with one punch. It hurt to read, but fuck it. Let him keep talking. It’s what he was best at.
He had scrunched up the newspaper and tossed it in the nearest bin. So... no more media for a while. He was here for a reason. He made his way up to her room, and to his surprise, she was asleep as was Fiona, sitting in a chair by her bed. Fiona opened her eyes and looked at him. She smiled, checked if Tegan was awake and beckoned him to sit on her chair. She quietly got up, kissed him on the cheek and rubbed his arm.
She left the two of them alone, but Owen didn’t take the seat. Instead, he sat on Tegan’s bed. His heart broke at the sight of her. Not for how she looked, but for what she’d been through: the weight loss, her hair, the mask.
It only reinforced his view that he had done the right thing. This is where he was needed. He reached for her face and gently brushed her cheek with the knuckles of his fingers. She stirred briefly but didn’t wake until he placed a hand on her head, caressing her spiky scalp with his thumb and said, “Hey, beautiful. It’s time to wake up.”
Tegan turned her head and looked at him. It was one second, maybe two, before she spoke, “I better be dreaming... you better not be here...”
“Why?” he asked, smiling.
As an answer she sat upright and hugged him. “Coz I missed you...” she groaned into his shoulder, emotions overtaking her. “I’m so sorry for the things I said. I didn’t mean them.”
“Hey... hey... it’s OK. I understand.”
“No...” She sat back, her breathing obvious from the inside of the clear mask. “It’s not OK. I was so horrible to you.”
“I know why you did it. And you weren’t wrong. You were just trying to help me.”
“Is that why you came back? To tell me that?”
Owen touched her face gently. “I just had to see you.”
He moved in to kiss her cheek but she leant back, blinking, not keeping eye contact. He tapped the mask. “Do you have to wear that all the time?”
Tegan shook her head. “They said just for the night to help me breathe. Just in case.” Owen took that as permission, removing it and placing it on the bed. He moved in for a kiss but again she slinked away.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“No, I’m sorry. I just... I don’t feel right...”
Owen nodded his head and gripped her hand. “It’s OK. Totally fine. So anyway, what did the doctor say?”
Tegan rattled off all she knew up to that point, and none of it made for light reading. But Owen wasn’t there for any other reason than to help. “How long do you have to stay?”
“I’ve done my rounds until Monday. But... I thought I might as well stay.”