Being There

1. A Day Like No Other

There’s something about this room that makes me uncomfortable. It’s not that it’s ugly; in fact it’s pretty nice for a waiting room. Maybe it’s the beige walls that are lined with cheesy motivational quotes, or the other nameless faces that are waiting.

Waiting, just like me.

I feel so small and insignificant sitting here all alone. I knew my nerves would be getting the best of me, so I took precautions by grabbing my biggest hobo bag and filling it with just about anything I could think of. My iPod, a manuscript from the office, a couple of books and some snacks somehow made it in the bag, but only the book is calming me at the moment. The book has been a welcome distraction since last night, and now I’m dying to find out which guy the girl in the book chooses.

Howard? Prudence Howard? A voice calls from across the room.

Every time I hear that name, I have to stop myself from looking around the room to see whom they are referring. I know it’s me that they’re calling, but when someone refers to you by a name that you never go by, I think it’s easy to think they are talking to someone else.

Today I wish it were someone else.

I realize when she calls my name again that I still haven’t answered her and I have read the same sentence three times. It’s clear to me that I’ll be reading this again when I get home. I glance up at the tall awkward woman calling my name and timidly acknowledge her. She gives a faint smile, perhaps understanding my apprehension as I begin to gather everything back into my bag.

I make my way toward the door that she is holding open for me, and I find my voice to answer her. Please, it’s Cassi, I request of her as I walk toward the door.

I’m sorry, she says in a kind voice. I’ll be sure to update your chart. It’s a lovely name - if you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you like it?

Oh, it’s not that, I start to explain. It’s just that it seems more fitting for an eighty-year-old not me.

The nurse just nods her head in understanding as she walks ahead of me, leading me to the open door down the way. I really don’t want to be here. And in fact, if it hadn’t been for my mom’s insistence, I wouldn’t be. I know better than to mention certain things to her because she’s a worrier and always jumps to the worst possible scenario. I swear mom has WebMD locked and loaded anytime I say the word ‘ache.’ When I have the chance to see the nurse’s name, it just seems to fit her well. Violet, I repeat to myself.

Come in and have a seat. Dr. Stone will be with you soon, she says as she holds the door for me.

I sit in one of the brown leather chairs across from an oversized mahogany desk and look around. He has at least three diplomas lining the left side of his desk, each one from a different renowned medical institution. Behind his chair are several glass sculptures that boast his various accomplishments during his years of practice, which, oddly enough, don’t really make me anymore at ease. I try to relax and lean back in the chair. I see the wall across from his diplomas, covered with images of people that I can only assume are his family. Pictures of a wife, children, grandchildren and friends take up residence - an obvious source of pride for the great doc.

I start to shift in discomfort in my chair, realizing the gravity of my situation. I have no one here with me, and no family to speak of, aside from my mom and dad. The few friends that I do have are off making their own way in the world, just like me, so it’s rare that we see each other anymore. I have no one. Just as I start to feel overwhelmed, Dr. Stone opens the door and gives me a kind smile as he walks to his place behind his desk.

Good morning, Cassi, he says as he takes my file from Nurse Violet. So how are things going? I’m not really in the mood for pleasantries, and I have a feeling there is more to that question than what is asked.

I was fine, until I got the call that I needed to come in for my test results. It must not be good, I offer for him. He tightens his lips in a hard line, giving it all away in that one look.

And there it is, the heavy sigh. He’s bracing himself to give me the news and I just wish he would spit it out already. These last two weeks have been absolute hell. I’ve tried not to think the worst by diving in headfirst into my work. But when you find a lump on your breast and have to go in for tests, it’s a little hard not to expect bad news.

Dr. Stone leans forward and rests his elbows on his desk. He looks as though what he is about to say is causing him discomfort and I have a feeling these next few moments of silence will be the last normal ones I’ll have.

I’m sorry Cassi, but there’s no easy way to give you this news. He looks through my chart in front of him and pulls out a paper before continuing. You initially came in because you had felt a lump on your left breast. Being that you’re only twenty-five, I suspected it would be nothing, because it’s rare that it would be anything significant at your age. The pathology report came back and concluded that you have Stage II A breast cancer.

My head is swimming, trying to decipher what I have just been told. I hear muffled explanations of ‘we caught it early’ and ‘your prognosis is good,’ but none of those offer me any consolation. It all boils down to the fact that I have cancer. He can say whatever he wants at this point because I can’t focus on anything but cancer.

That word repeats over and over in my head like a bad song and I can’t shake it. I finally lift my eyes to meet his and I know that the tears are about to spill out. He’s looking for me to acknowledge what he’s told me, to say something. But what can I say?

Cassi? he asks with concern. Do you have any questions?

What? I stammer, at a loss for how to continue. I’m sorry, I just don’t understand. I thought you said that it was probably nothing and now you’re saying that it’s cancer?

I know this is a lot to wrap your head around and honestly, had you not found it when you did, chances are that by the time you came in for your annual, this would be a much worse situation. He pauses for a moment. Cassi, we caught it early.

All of a sudden the room feels like it’s spinning and the tears that I was fighting have escaped. Nothing he’s saying to me makes sense. Sure, I felt something last month, and yes, I figured that being called in today was going to confirm my worst fears, but hearing him say it is something altogether different.

So what comes next? I choke out, hoping not to completely lose it.

I’ve asked a colleague to sit in, she should be here soon. Her name is Dr. Farray and she’s an oncologist that I’ve worked with before and I assure you that she is very good at what she does.

As if on cue, the door opens and a petite woman with dark skin and short hair enters the room. She smiles at me as she walks over to shake hands with Dr. Stone. After he’s introduced us, he allows her to take over to discuss what she thinks is the best treatment for me going forward.

She holds up the scans from my last visit and places it in the light. Your tumor is three centimeters, she points to the mass to clarify what I am looking at, therefore what I would like to do is start with several chemotherapy treatments in order to shrink it. We’ll check again to see if it has, in fact, shrunk and then we can proceed with a lumpectomy if necessary. I know this is all very overwhelming, but after looking over everything, I feel this is the best option going forward. Do you have any questions for me?

I stare at the wall, trying to process everything I’ve heard since I walked into this office and none of it makes sense. When do I have to start treatment?

I would like to get started as soon as possible.

I’m leaving in a couple of days for a trip and I won’t be back until next week, I inform her as I bring my calendar up on my phone.

That’s fine. How does next Thursday look for you?

I suppose as good as it’s going to, I reply lamely.

She gives me a sympathetic nod and leaves me with several papers to review when I have time, as well as instructions to call if I think of any other questions. Dr. Stone remains stalwart and wishes me the best before I depart his office. Walking back through the waiting room, I see the people that are still waiting to be seen and can’t help but wonder if they’ll be receiving bad news like me.

I feel the sudden urge to bolt out of the doors as quick as I can because I’m pretty sure I’m about to have a meltdown right here in front of an audience. When I am safely outside, I am hit by the suffocating Houston heat and hurry to my car that is parked three rows back. As I reach the car, I can feel the sweat beads at my hairline, and I can’t help but think that if I did cry right now, people may not even notice because the tears will just meld into the sweat. Days like this, I wish I had left Texas when I had the chance.

AFTER MY APPOINTMENT, I decided I needed to get back to work. But now that I’m here, I’m way too flustered to get anything done. I think I’m going to ask Mr. Marx, my boss, if I can work the rest of the day from home. I doubt he’ll mind because I always stay ahead of schedule. I don’t want to tell him, or anyone else, what’s going on with me. The perfect opportunity arises when I see the dumpy, balding man walking toward my office, obviously looking for me. How he ever made it to managing editor, I will never understand. He misses deadlines, dresses sloppy, and lets his employees walk all over him - that is, everyone except me. When he comes to my door, I all but cringe when he smiles. Those crooked yellow teeth show years of smoking. Well, that and the horrible smoker’s cough. Gross.

Do you have a moment? He asks as he takes a seat across from me. My desk is always clear, which I suppose leaves him under the impression I have nothing to do. I need you to help Janet out. She’s been overwhelmed with the project I assigned her to last week, and on top of the other two that are due next week, she’s falling behind.

Sure, that’s fine. Just have her send me the information. I plaster a confident smile on my face, which causes me to seethe inside. Why do I always say yes? Janet is lazy and stupid and could care less about a deadline. It boils down to her lack of knowledge on anything of substance; she no doubt punted this one on purpose.

Excellent! I told her it wouldn’t be a problem, he says as he gets up to leave my office. I’m fighting the urge to say something snarky, when I speak up.

Sir? Would you mind if I work the rest of the day from home? I’m not feeling that well and I think I’ll get more done there.

I don’t see that as a problem, just make sure to see Janet before you leave, he orders.

When he disappears from my sight, I grab my coffee cup and move to throw it at the door, but flip him off instead. I would not waste my favorite mug on my jerk of a boss anyway; it always brings a smile to my face. I just love Elvis.

I turn the mug in my hands and eye the famous "TCB" logo and decide to do exactly that.

I’m gonna take care of business, I say to myself as I grab everything I need to head home.

I let Mr. Marx and everyone else walk all over me and it just pisses me off. I don’t want to help Janet, yet here I am agreeing to take on more of her work. Martyr-Cassi to the rescue like always. I keep thinking it’ll pay off down the road, but I seriously doubt it because people like me are perpetual doormats.

In the few hours I have been at work, I didn’t think much about my appointment or what’s coming up for me. That only works for so long, because the longer I’m here, the closer it seems I am to a meltdown of epic proportions. I hurry through the main doors leading to the parking garage where my old black Accord waits for me. Just as I reach for the handle, my phone rings in my hand and I know, without looking, that it’s my best friend Nevaeh.

Hello? I answer, trying desperately not to drop my phone and everything else in my arms while simultaneously opening the door. Hold on! Crap! Nev, lemme call you back! I continue shouting before throwing my phone into the passenger seat when I finally get it open. The contents of my purse and everything else go flying throughout my car and I exhale an annoyed breath as I attempt to steady myself and regain my composure.

I punch a quick text to Nev before she tries calling me again. We might not get to see each other as much as we’d like since we got out of school, but she still knows me better than anyone. Just hearing my voice and she would know in an instant that something was up.

Me: Call u when I get home.

Nev: Everything okay?

Me: Long day. Fill u in later.

2. Reality Bites...Big Time

Ishove my phone into my purse and silence it because I would rather not talk to anyone at the moment. With the car on, I rest my head on the steering wheel hoping for clarity or peace or something to take over, but I think the universe is in short supply. I want quiet, but in the quiet all I can hear is Dr. Stone’s voice repeating everything from today.

I turn on the radio and blare music from my iPod at a deafening level, hoping the noise of something upbeat and fun will distract me. I need fun.

Flipping through numerous song titles, I settle on Let’s Dance to Joy Division by The Wombats because the lyrics seem depressing to me, but I love how upbeat it is. How can you not be happy listening to that song? I set it on repeat and listen to it while I make the twenty-minute drive home.

Walking into my two-bedroom condo, I’m reminded of the chicken I cooked for dinner last night because I forgot to take out the trash. Fail number two today. I throw my stuff on the hardwood floor with a thud as I make my way to remedy the smell. I should have cleaned the kitchen last night but I was so worried about the appointment that I took an anti-anxiety medicine and went right to bed. Nice job there, Cassi. I make it a point to do a half-assed clean up of the area and pull out the bottle of wine that I opened last night. I know it’s only a matter of time before my parents call to find out how my appointment went and I’m not up for that conversation yet.

Quite frankly, I’d prefer to keep my condition to myself. Not because they don’t care, but because they do, and I know the concern and questions they’ll have and I have nothing to offer.

I grab a clean wine glass from the cabinet and pour myself a larger glass than I would have on a normal day, but hell, there is nothing normal about today, so why not? The plan is to sit on my couch and mope anyway, so I might as well enjoy it as best as I can. I take the glass to the living room and have a seat on my overstuffed couch and try to make myself comfortable. But something is missing.

Music. I need music, I say aloud, because I admit, I like talking to myself; I think I’m good company.

With the radio on, I close my eyes for a moment and let the day’s events seep into me. It’s here that I will allow myself to feel something – while I’m alone, in the comfort of my own space. The solitude is calming and vexing at the same time so I pull out the papers that Dr. Stone sent home with me. Flipping through the pages I briefly look to see what I’m up against and decide to start at the beginning, hoping that maybe it will somehow calm me.

There are lists of procedures, treatment options, support groups and too many other things to take in at the moment. I absent-mindedly riffle through the remaining pages at random seeing various words leap off the pages and I panic.

Surgery. Chemo. Radiation.

I throw the papers across the room as if they are causing me physical pain, and let the despair consume every part of me. Tears stream down my face as I sob and I allow myself to be angry as hell because this is a crap hand I’ve been dealt - no one deserves this.

I hug my knees to my chest and bury my head, trying to rationalize how this could happen. But there are no answers, which pisses me off more. I feel completely bereft searching inside for some semblance of justification for the situation I find myself in. I look around my condo and spot the cross that normally centers me, but right now, it betrays me.

I down my glass of wine with haste before getting up to grab the remaining bottle and pour another glass. I don’t care that I’ll have a headache later because if it’s not the wine, it’ll be from the tears, so what does it matter. I will cry until I have nothing left in me to cry because the chaos, that is my life, leaves me in a state of uncertainty and I hate it. I need order; I need reasons and answers and after weeks of waiting for answers, I wish I had another week of not knowing.

I could sit here all night and feel sorry for myself, but I’m thankful for the numbness that’s beginning to set. When exhaustion takes over, I lie down on the couch and glance at the now empty bottle sitting on the coffee table. I pathetically take note of how empty I feel as well. The radio is playing a soft song as I hug my favorite novelty Elvis pillow to my chest and close my eyes to rest because I don’t want to think anymore.

MY OUTBURST WAS CATHARTIC, but I would have been mortified if anyone else had seen it. I needed it and I suppose I needed the sleep that followed. I pull out my phone to see that I have slept the last hour and have missed calls and texts that I need to answer.

Great.

I start to scroll through them noticing they are all from mom and Nev, which means they’re freaking out.

4:28 p.m. - Nev: Thanks for calling back!

4:41 p.m. - Nev: Hello?

4:47 p.m. - Nev: Okay, now I’m pissed

5:00 p.m. - Nev: Call me! Now!

5:08 p.m. - Nev: I’m coming over

I dial her number in a hurry, hoping to catch her before she gets to my place. Lord knows she’ll bang on my door and anyone else’s until she gets a response.

What the hell took you so long? I was getting worried, she spits at me, answering on the first ring.

Where are you? I ask before answering her questions because I’m worried that she’s on her way and I don’t want her to see me yet. She will know something is up the moment she looks at me.

I hear some clattering noises in the background before she answers me.

I was just heading out the door to your place. What’s going on? Are you okay?

I’m fine, I say with feigned exhaustion. I got home from work and fell asleep.

You fell asleep, she repeats incredulously. I never rest, and she knows this. But she also knows that I have been working nonstop, so I’m sure she won’t think anything more of it.

It’s been a long day. Mr. Marx gave me Janet’s work to do, and now I am just trying to stay afloat.

At least that wasn’t a lie.

"Girl, you need to say no every once in a while. And all I know is, you better be done with your work before this weekend because you are not bringing it to the house."

She can be so demanding sometimes, but I am in total agreement. I have no desire to bring work with me this weekend.

Don’t worry, I start. I’m really looking forward to the trip.

She’s silent for a moment, no doubt analyzing my response.

Wow, I thought I was going to have drag you on this trip kicking and screaming, she teases.

Whatever, I drag out. "So maybe in the past you’ve had to do some convincing, but I need this trip, alright?  Just call it the new me because I’m going to go and have a great time, and maybe I’ll try something I haven’t done before. Before she can respond I add in exaggerated excitement, Who knows, maybe I’ll meet someone when we go out on Saturday."

About that, she pauses, yes, we are going to go out to meet up with everyone, but I’m bringing Luke.

She sounds hesitant to continue. I’ve heard her mention his name a few times, but have yet to actually meet him.

Okay-, I drag out. Are you trying to tell me something? Are you going up with him? Do I need to drive myself? I ask in quick succession.

No, of course not, it’s just, well, she sounds unsure, he’s bringing a friend. Before I can interject anything, she is quick to explain, "But I promise, this is not a set up! They were going on their own trip, and I just kinda invited them along with us?" Her voice got annoyingly high as though she is asking my permission.

I stay silent, knowing she is anxious as to what I might say.

Alrighty then, so we’ll meet them there.

That’s it? You’re not mad? I can tell from her sigh she is relieved and shocked that I don’t seem to be giving her hell about it. Normally I would, but I just don’t have the energy to fight her right now.

Should I be mad? Is there something I should know about this guy?

No, not at all, I was just afraid you were going to give me hell, she admits sounding relieved.

Oh, I am going to give you all sorts of hell, because you have some explaining to do, Nevaeh Evans. Like, why have I not met him yet? How did you meet? And a slew of others, I add in warning. And don’t think that I’m not going to interrogate him the moment I have a chance!

She lets out a groan, indicating that our conversation is ending.

I’m sure he will have no problem answering your questions, but right now, I gotta go. I’m supposed to meet him at six and I still haven’t finished my hair.

"Details lady! I want details. Before the trip, preferably," I warn.

She laughs because it’s rare that I get to question her about someone she’s dating.

I’ll call you later. Love you, she shouts as she hangs up.

I’m so grateful to have Nevaeh in my life. She has been the sister I never had but always wanted. I am curious about the guy she’s dating because she hasn’t told me much about him. She’s not exactly the conservative type, so