expression on my face. But if one had been there, it would have shown the immense burst of relief I felt. The first thing I did was rush for a telephone, and I called Ruby.
“I've been turned down,” I said. “I'm four-F.”
“What does that mean?” she said in a tremulous voice.
“It means that I don't have to go into the army.”
I heard her give a great sigh.
I knew she felt the same way I did. There is nothing heroic about this, but that is the way I felt.
Chapter Six
2002
T HE ONCOLOGIST'S OFFICE WAS CROWDED . T HERE WERE NO MORE seats available in the waiting room, and some had to stand. We were lucky. We had come early enough to get three seats together. Adraenne had come, of course. She had taken time off from the hospital to be with Ruby for the bone marrow test, and even though the doctor with whom she worked had objected strenuously, nothing could have kept her away.
Our elation over the rise in Ruby's hemoglobin count had been short-lived. It had taken a sudden, dramatic drop, and not only that, but the platelet count had dropped too, and that was always a danger sign. A bone marrow test would determine just what was going on, the doctor had said. So here we were waiting our turn to see the oncologist, but all three of us were quite cheerful, with Adraenne assuring us that the test would be negative.
“And if it isn't?” I asked, too late to catch the warning look that came from Adraenne's eyes.
She resembled her mother a great deal. She was of the same height, with the same oval-shaped face and large dark eyes, except that the dark brown hair had a slightly reddish tint to it. She was quick to answer my question. “If is isn't,” she said, with a carelessness to her tone that I knew was feigned, “then the worst it can mean is more Procrit. Mom has the kind of anemia that you don't have to worry about.”
We didn't discuss it any more, and Ruby hardly seemed to have been listening anyway and seemed little concerned over any outcome. We were chatting over various other things not medical when Ruby's name was called by a nurse.
The two of them went in together, and I remained there waiting. It must have taken about thirty minutes before Adraenne came out alone. I could not tell from the expression on her face what the result of the test might have been.
“Where's Mom?” I asked.
“She's dressing. She'll be out soon.” She sat down next to me.
“So what happened?” I said. “Did they take the test?”
“Yes.”
“Then how did it go? Is everything all right?”
“Everything went fine. It wasn't an easy test to take. The doctor had to stick a large needle into her hip bone, but he knew his business and it all went quickly and Mom had very little pain.”
“And you got the result?”
“Yes.”
“So what is it?” I asked impatiently.
Adraenne drew closer to me. She put an arm around my shoulder and her head close to mine and said softly, “Mom has leukemia.”
My heart froze. I sat still for a moment, then bent forward and put my face in my hands and cried. She held me tightly, and I recovered enough to ask, “Does she know?”
Adraenne shook her head. “No, the doctor didn't tell her. He just told me.”
“Then she mustn't know,” I said.
Adraenne thought for a moment. “Not yet, perhaps.”
“Not anytime,” I said firmly, angrily. “I don't want her to ever know.”
She shushed me then, for Ruby was coming out, smiling, evidently happy that it was all over, and seeming to take it for granted that there was nothing wrong with her. My daughter and I put on a good act of believing the same thing. We went out, all three of us, in a seemingly lighthearted mood for lunch at a nearby restaurant, and as far as Ruby was concerned, it might almost have been a celebration; she knew nothing of the misery that was inside the other two of us.
But there was trouble later with Charlie. I told him of the diagnosis and our determination to keep it from his mother, and he was
“I've been turned down,” I said. “I'm four-F.”
“What does that mean?” she said in a tremulous voice.
“It means that I don't have to go into the army.”
I heard her give a great sigh.
I knew she felt the same way I did. There is nothing heroic about this, but that is the way I felt.
Chapter Six
2002
T HE ONCOLOGIST'S OFFICE WAS CROWDED . T HERE WERE NO MORE seats available in the waiting room, and some had to stand. We were lucky. We had come early enough to get three seats together. Adraenne had come, of course. She had taken time off from the hospital to be with Ruby for the bone marrow test, and even though the doctor with whom she worked had objected strenuously, nothing could have kept her away.
Our elation over the rise in Ruby's hemoglobin count had been short-lived. It had taken a sudden, dramatic drop, and not only that, but the platelet count had dropped too, and that was always a danger sign. A bone marrow test would determine just what was going on, the doctor had said. So here we were waiting our turn to see the oncologist, but all three of us were quite cheerful, with Adraenne assuring us that the test would be negative.
“And if it isn't?” I asked, too late to catch the warning look that came from Adraenne's eyes.
She resembled her mother a great deal. She was of the same height, with the same oval-shaped face and large dark eyes, except that the dark brown hair had a slightly reddish tint to it. She was quick to answer my question. “If is isn't,” she said, with a carelessness to her tone that I knew was feigned, “then the worst it can mean is more Procrit. Mom has the kind of anemia that you don't have to worry about.”
We didn't discuss it any more, and Ruby hardly seemed to have been listening anyway and seemed little concerned over any outcome. We were chatting over various other things not medical when Ruby's name was called by a nurse.
The two of them went in together, and I remained there waiting. It must have taken about thirty minutes before Adraenne came out alone. I could not tell from the expression on her face what the result of the test might have been.
“Where's Mom?” I asked.
“She's dressing. She'll be out soon.” She sat down next to me.
“So what happened?” I said. “Did they take the test?”
“Yes.”
“Then how did it go? Is everything all right?”
“Everything went fine. It wasn't an easy test to take. The doctor had to stick a large needle into her hip bone, but he knew his business and it all went quickly and Mom had very little pain.”
“And you got the result?”
“Yes.”
“So what is it?” I asked impatiently.
Adraenne drew closer to me. She put an arm around my shoulder and her head close to mine and said softly, “Mom has leukemia.”
My heart froze. I sat still for a moment, then bent forward and put my face in my hands and cried. She held me tightly, and I recovered enough to ask, “Does she know?”
Adraenne shook her head. “No, the doctor didn't tell her. He just told me.”
“Then she mustn't know,” I said.
Adraenne thought for a moment. “Not yet, perhaps.”
“Not anytime,” I said firmly, angrily. “I don't want her to ever know.”
She shushed me then, for Ruby was coming out, smiling, evidently happy that it was all over, and seeming to take it for granted that there was nothing wrong with her. My daughter and I put on a good act of believing the same thing. We went out, all three of us, in a seemingly lighthearted mood for lunch at a nearby restaurant, and as far as Ruby was concerned, it might almost have been a celebration; she knew nothing of the misery that was inside the other two of us.
But there was trouble later with Charlie. I told him of the diagnosis and our determination to keep it from his mother, and he was
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