The “C” Word
The “c” word. That vulgar one that no one wants to hear. The one that’s so vile it causes pain. No, not the one you’re thinking about, hell, that’s usually my favorite one. The word I’m talking about is one I hope to never hear again. Before the word ‘cancer’ was thrown around five years ago, life was much better. I still had him, and we were none the wiser. Life was okay before that diagnosis, not perfect, but okay. Pain and suffering were things we thought we understood. Tears falling randomly was something that happened in the movies. If only we could go back.
I’ll never forget that day - the day he was diagnosed. It was scary and sad all at once. All I wanted was for it to be a dream, but it wasn’t; it was a nightmare that had become my life. And worst of all, it was his nightmare that he couldn’t wake up from.
On the day I took him to the hospital, everything felt like slow motion. He had to have a biopsy to prove it wasn’t cancer. We were sure it wasn’t. After all, this was the second biopsy and the first had been negative. The second had to be negative too, right? Wrong. Very wrong.
I stayed in the hospital the entire time of his biopsy. It took four hours before they’d let me back to see him. But, I can remember it all, right down to the chill in the PACU waiting room and the sound of beeping from the monitors. A nurse came out and called out, “family for Ryan Kirby.” Of course, I stood quickly to follow her so I could go see him.
When I got to his room, I noticed everything. I remember just how intense everything felt and how we were just waiting for answers. It was probably fifteen minutes before the surgeon came in, and when he did, the atmosphere shifted. My stomach started to turn, and it was from the remorseful look he had when he met my gaze. Ryan and I just looked at each other, and deep down, we knew.
Dr. Nathan began to speak. “I wanted to come in and talk to you both about the results, so I’m glad I didn’t miss you Hannah.” He was looking at me as he spoke, but my eyes were locked on Ryan’s, and the fear I saw was enough to kill me. I grabbed his hand and held it for what was about to come. And at that point, I’m not sure if it was for me or for him.
Dr. Nathan began to log in to Epic, the computer charting system for the hospital. As he did that, his nurse offered to get us refreshments. I knew that was a bad sign too. They don’t try to comfort with food when there’s good news, that’s reserved for the bad shit only. Neither of us were in the mood to eat, so we accepted the water and politely declined anything else as we turned our attention back to the physician holding some of the most important information of our lives. He started out showing us the CT scans he had before the biopsy. And just looking at them, you could see some abnormalities. He pointed them out, and asked some questions about symptoms. Then told us the pathology samples had to be sent. Finally, he said the word: ‘cancer.’
In that moment following the “c word,” everything that was so loud before was now silent. It was as though everything had been blocked out to a distant area that could barely be heard. Sure the monitors continued to beep, alarms continued to sound, and patients down the hall continued to call out, but the sound became so muffled, it was almost a whisper. The only loud sound in my head was that damn c word. I wasn’t sure how I was going to meet Ryan’s gaze without crying. But I managed to find strength for him. If that was all I could do, I would be there for him to let him know he wasn’t alone. And good thing I did. It was the first time in 25 years I’d seen those hazel eyes well up with tears. He was always so stoic and masculine and chivalrous. Not this time. This time, I was his rock. I kept him from crumbling under the weight of reality. Usually, it was him saving me, but our roles just reversed.
He had to stay overnight because he was having trouble waking up fully from anesthesia and he asked me to go home for the night. I argued with him for a short time, but eventually gave in not wanting to stress him more. I would have stayed, but I knew it wouldn’t have helped. He needed to break down just as badly as I did. How could either of us do that, trying to be strong for the other? I knew I had been beaten. I agreed to come back in the morning to pick him up and discuss treatment. I kissed his forehead and told him I loved him and made sure he knew I’d break down the doors to get to him, all he needed to do was to call me. Then, I threatened the nurse’s life if she didn’t care for my brother the best way she could. Ryan and I laughed a little while the nurse nervously chuckled not knowing how serious I was. He was all I had. And you definitely don’t piss off a redhead.
