9. A Day in the Life

9

A Day in the Life

Brighton

Tuesday, May 9 th

9:53 a.m.

The world never misses the opportunity to throw something unexpected my way.

"Do you think he's okay?" I ask.

Liam shrugs and shakes his head. "Give him a minute. He'll be back. You were saying?"

I pause, unsure of continuing, but follow Liam's lead.

Brief seconds tick by until the door swings open, and Dax slinks back into the room, leaning against the wall like he was before as he grunts an apology to Liam.

Being the person who is going through this and being the person who is watching on the other end is incomparable. It's a damning diagnosis for both of them that will change everything despite the outcome.

"Do you need a minute?"

"I'm fine. Continue." He adjusts his hat on his head, his voice betraying no hint of emotion.

Liam pats the chair beside him. "Everything's gonna be fine. Chill. I'm the one with the diagnosis of death. Why are you the one acting like the world's over?"

Dax tucks his hands into his pockets and crosses his legs at the ankle, standing stalk-still, the weight of his unspoken response louder than words.

"Can I continue?" I ask, clearing my throat as I try to change the direction of our discussion.

"Sorry about Mr. Dramatic over there. I can't take him anywhere." Liam shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

I slide a couple of forms in front of Liam. "Here's a list of potential side effects. You can read this when you leave, but I have to because of the legal stuff. Here are the major symptoms to look out for. Check the list for the rest. Let me know if you have questions. Symptoms usually start during the first few weeks of treatment and may become more intense with each cycle. I wanted to point out something that's a little more common with Ewing Sarcoma and isn't on the list."

I grab the pen from my breast pocket, draw an asterisk, and scribble ‘focus point' next to secondary cancers .

Dax leans forward and glances at the folder in Liam's hands.

"This is why we need to establish the boundaries of what is already present. ES has a high propensity to spread."

Dax grabs the hat off his head and folds the bill in his hands, pinching his eyes closed.

"We have a sixty to seventy percent success rate with the treatment options I've provided." I give them the only reassurance I have.

"And the other thirty to forty percent?" Dax shifts his weight and sucks in a deep breath, replacing his hat and pulling it lower over his face. "What about that ?"

Liam watches his brother and claps him on the shoulder. "We've already been through a shit-ton. We can handle this."

"That's not the point," Dax mumbles.

"Let's do this." Liam shakes his head and gazes at me out of the corner of his eye, annoyed. He pushes up the sleeve of his sweatshirt on his right arm, tapping near his elbow over the veins.

I chuckle and motion for him to relax. "That's not how it works. CT scan first, and we'll start chemo after port placement."

Lauren enters the room, impeccably timed, and hands me the last of the paperwork to have him fill out. I roll across the linoleum and hand Liam the forms requiring his signature.

He signs everything without a second glance. "Do I get the scan before I leave?" Liam directs the question at me, but Lauren answers.

"Yes, I already have you scheduled for ten-fifteen in radiology." She scoops the papers off the table, slides them in front of me, and points to where I need to sign. Dread settles into my core at the idea of signing anything I haven't read, but I think better of it knowing she's not to blame. I give Lauren a tight-lipped smile and start scribbling my signature.

The voice in my head reminds me I should refer him and tell them I don't keep cases with patients in his age range who have Ewing Sarcoma, but the similarities between him and Grady tug at my heartstrings. I sneak a peek at Dax and feel compelled to help them because I've been in their shoes. And there's something else—something I can't put my finger on.

Kline won't like it, and this would be in straight defiance of protocol, but considering everything I've gone through today, I don't give a shit. These two need me like I needed someone when my brother died. I'm never going to hear the end of this, but I'll keep his case. It's not like I'd make the same mistake twice. Besides, I can explain everything later.

A heaviness lifts from my shoulders with my decision.

Liam nods at Dax and stands. "Guess I'll see you later."

"The CT scan is on the first floor in radiology. I'll bring Liam back when he's done." Lauren's voice steals me from my thoughts as she props the door open.

Dax remains unresponsive, staring straight ahead, his eyes vacant.

"See you in a few." Liam's gaze bounces from Dax to me and back again before he extends a hand. "It was nice to meet you."

"If you have questions, please call." I shake his hand and hazard another glance at Dax before I continue. "I may not be available immediately, but I'll get back to you before the end of the day, every time. Promise. It's the people beside you who matter. We're here. All of us. You two aren't alone."

Lauren makes a tiny squeak, and I turn to face her, praying she can read in my eyes that this is a conversation we can have later and not bring up that this isn't typical practice, and I usually refer cases like his.

Her brow creases with a frown, but she nods. I'm never going to hear the end of this, but I have to go with my gut. And my gut is screaming at me to keep this case. Nothing will change my mind.

Dax is standing, staring at the linoleum beneath his feet. I've been in his shoes and know exactly how their lives are about to change. I take a step closer to him, giving him a warm smile when he finally looks up, and Lauren ushers Liam out.

"We've got this." I wait for the door to close. "This facility takes a group approach to ES. The staff will meet all of Liam's needs. We have a team like no other."

This earns me a husky, condescending laugh. I accompany Dax to the door. At the last second, he swivels on me, about to ask something, when we're caught together in the doorway. Oh my, he smells good. He leans back into the room, and I follow his movements, catching us in an awkward dance of back and forth. I glance up into his eyes, seeing the flecks of gold, and stumble over coherent thought as I look away.

"But you're the best doctor. What's a team matter?" he asks gruffly, but when I look at him, he's fighting a smile. My pulse mimics the rapid fire of a machine gun.

"I can't do this alone," I mumble under my breath. And I wouldn't want to if I could.

He leans back against the doorway, and I stay frozen. "We need you ."

My heart aches for him as his body shudders with deep, controlled breaths, and his silent grief finally erupts. He's desperate. And desperate people stop at nothing until they get what they want.

The cynic in me has doubts, but his motives seem pure. He thinks I can save his brother.

This is why he's here.

He balls his hands into fists and directs his gaze to mine, maintaining a narrowed, unblinking scowl. We're at the point of no return. And I have nothing left to offer.

There's a deep ache to reach out and pull him to me, an illogical need to comfort him. Sympathy fills my eyes, and an overwhelming sorrow vibrates in my bones.

But I'm not allowed to touch.

My voice is steady as I set my hand on the counter to stop the trembling. "We have an excellent team—radiologists, cardiologists, pathologists, the other specialists—"

" We want the best," he interrupts, pressing his lips into a thin line.

My faux smile falters. "And I'll be part of the team." All the hairs on the back of my arm rise, and I ignore his attitude as I continue with my standard spiel, trying to lessen my need to put him in his place. "We need you to do the HLA test to get ready for a marrow transplant for after Liam's surgery. It's a test for DNA compatibility."

"A what?"

"It's noninvasive. A quick nose swab. It's Liam's best bet for a full recovery. He'll use your hemoglobin to help heal after surgery."

"I'll help with anything I can." He wipes a hand down his face.

"I'm going to do everything I can to help Liam. We're all going to work together for the best outcomes."

"This isn't summer camp. Teamwork and friendship don't kill cancer!" His jaw ticks as he balls his hands into fists.

"I'm here for you." The knot in my throat grows, and I can't swallow. The declaration comes out as only a whisper.

"Are you?" His brows flicker up, and his expression morphs. He sinks a hand into his pocket, adopting an easy posture. The side of his mouth quirks up, sending butterflies flip-flopping in my stomach. He stares at me, unmoving. And I have to tell my body and brain to calm the hell down. "You're the number one doctor in New York. Why can't you treat him yourself?"

"I am treating him," I say as his arm brushes against mine. The muscles of my stomach jump from the contact. I realize the moment he registers he's touching me. His eyes go a little wide, and he slides his hand away from mine. "I don't do scans and labs. I read them, but that's all."

"Right, I get that." He hangs his head and pinches his eyes closed. "I don't know what I was thinking."

The sound of footsteps approaching interrupts our awkward exchange. My brain cycles through a dozen different escape plans, my pulse still thundering in my ears.

"I have a patient ready for a room. You almost done?" a nurse asks, his eyes pivoting between the two of us. I have no idea what my face is doing. My panicky laugh cuts through the tension like a shard of glass through flesh.

"It's all yours," Dax says, pulling my thoughts in another direction. I don't know what just happened between us, but I don't have time to ruminate on it. I take a step away from the room and Dax, clearing my head.

He follows me, continuing our awkward dance of push and pull. We stop near the counter, and I resume where I left off, "I assure you—"

"Choose us ," he pleads. There's something in his eyes, some tension that I'm too shocked to translate.

I already have.

A familiar swell of uncertainty fills my chest. If I fail, there's a good chance I won't be able to forgive myself, and I'll never be able to explain my decision to Kline. I don't need him adding fuel to the fire. I'm damn good at my job—one of the best. And I always want to be the hero.

But now I'm second-guessing my decision to keep Liam. And what it means for Dax.

Dax's eyes lock with mine before he drops his gaze to his hands, flexing his fingers. He shakes his head and glances at me through dark, thick lashes.

I readjust my stethoscope and drop my eyes to the floor. My tone is flat as I return to our conversation. "Every one of my patients is important, as I'm sure you're aware. I understand—"

"Please." The word comes out with a heavy breath. He's begging me with no shame, a plea out of necessity. His fear is palpable. "How are we going to get through this?"

I wince, drawing my shoulders up to my ears. A commotion draws my attention past Dax to a staff member scooping charts and scattered papers from the floor. She apologizes profusely to the man who stoops to help her next to the elevator. She keeps her eyes down, head tucked. Lauren and a couple of others rush over to help her, clearing up the mess and sending her on her way.

"With my help." I cement the decision in my brain. "I'm not going anywhere."

Dax gives me a slow, deliberate nod, taking my declaration as the only confirmation he needs. He readjusts his hat, rubbing the back of his neck as he makes his way past me and onto the oncology floor.

I follow him, pausing at the nurses' station, and watch as he strides to the elevators. He doesn't glance back, his shoulders squared, and his head held high.

I lean over the counter to steady myself. I can do this.

I slide my badge over the pad on the wall. The door swings closed with a push. It's a typical day in my cancer-filled, fucked-up excuse for a life. Avoiding the truth comes too easily, especially in this profession. I shake my head, unsure of how to navigate all the ins and outs of taking Liam's case and how I'm going to break it to Kline. My eyes gloss over, and I cover my mouth with my hand, stifling a groan as it falls from my lips.

The never-ending hall gives me the time to get myself under control. I collapse into the chair behind my desk, unsure how to convince Kline I'm the best way to deal with the brothers. The brothers. I chuckle. I've given them a nickname. It's disarming, and the human part of my brain clicks into place. I'm allowed to care. It's called empathy for a reason.

It doesn't matter what my heart tells me. I have to get on with the day—whether or not I want to.

I place the charts in a pile on the table and fumble as I grab the voice recorder from my pocket, rifle through Liam's paperwork, and narrate his dictation.

CHIEF COMPLAINT: I had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Liam Blakely, a nineteen-year-old male who presents with a confirmed case of Ewing Sarcoma.

HISTORY OF PRESENT ILLNESS: Mr. Blakely was accompanied today by his brother. He has had ongoing pelvic pain for upwards of three weeks. He attributes his discomfort to extensive practices for college soccer.

I stop recording and stare at the recorder, swallowing the lump in my throat. Dax's face keeps popping into my head. I have personal experience with what the brothers are facing. The trials and difficulties they're going to have to overcome. I want to be there for them in a capacity I haven't felt toward another patient's situation in a long time. The dynamic of the brothers' relationship reminds me of how hard it is to be in a position where there is no control.

Everything about this is devastating.

My last wavering piece of restraint slips through my fingers as a tear rolls down my cheek. I wipe it away, frustrated at the turn of events and the shitty way my day started.

Emotions I've had buried for years bubble to the surface. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Grady's diagnosis of ES came when I was sixteen. His strength is what I held on to when our world crumbled, and our family fell apart.

Liam reminds me of him—the free spirit, joking demeanor, stubborn optimism—and everything I lost.

And I will do everything I can to ensure their situation doesn't end up like mine.