too good for them. “So what are we making here?” she asked, attempting to change the subject.
“Something dumb,” Kimbra kidded. “But art therapy is one of our few diversions. We have it twice a week, so we go with the flow.”
“What are we supposed to do?”
“I’ll show you,” Kimbra volunteered, and for the next thirty minutes, Jenny sorted through pinecones, ribbon, and decorative ornaments. Contentedly, she listened to the others chatter, asked a few questions, and answered vaguely when someone asked her something. She learned that she was the oldest of the four. Kimbra was fifteen and from a suburb of Baltimore. Elaine was fourteen and from rural Vermont. And Noreen was fifteen and from Quincy, a suburb of Boston.
“Noreen has ten brothers and sisters,” Elaine told Jenny with admiration. “Out where I live, there’s barely ten neighbors.”
“You should try waiting in line for the bathroom at my house,” Noreen joked. “That’s why I’m theonly one in this room who doesn’t mind being in the hospital. I finally have some privacy.”
“So, what are you in for?” Kimbra asked Jenny. “For me it’s Ewing’s sarcoma—that’s bone cancer. They cut off my arm last year, and I had a lot of radiation. They thought they had it licked, but now it’s turned up in my shoulder.” With her remaining hand, she touched the shoulder of her amputated arm. “Radiation again. The pits.”
Noreen said, “I’ve got non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma in my stomach. That’s a slow-growing tumor that’s trying to take over my body.”
“Yeah, like an alien,” Elaine inserted.
“Cute.” Noreen sniffed. “My doctor’s trying to shrink it with X rays, then I’ll have an operation to cut it out.”
Jenny shuddered. At least Dr. Gallagher didn’t have to cut up her insides.
“Leukemia,” Elaine said. “This is my second time around. I got it when I was ten and had a really long remission. Then it popped up again.”
Jenny found the news frightening. Although she realized that patients could relapse, she had been so focused on achieving her first remission, she hadn’t thought beyond it. What if she relapsed too? “Leukemia for me too,” she told the girls. “Just diagnosed.” While it wasn’t exactly the truth, Jenny didn’t feel like fielding a bunch of embarrassing questions.
“Have you gotten a room assignment yet?” Noreen asked, as she pounded a hapless pinecone onto her wreath.
“Sort of.”
Kimbra gave her a puzzled look, but before Jenny was forced to elaborate, Noreen piped up with, “So,why don’t you ask your doctor to put you in with us?”
“Sure,” Elaine agreed. “We have a room with four beds, and one’s empty. The little girl who was using it went home Monday.”
“You’d want me in your room?”
“Why not?” Kimbra said with a shrug. “We’re about sick of each other’s company, and the more the merrier.”
“Sick of each other?” Elaine cried. “Just for that, I won’t let you watch
General Hospital
this afternoon.”
“And I refuse to fetch your basin if you have a puke attack after your afternoon treatment,” Noreen added.
The one-armed Kimbra tossed a pinecone at the other two. They all laughed, and Jenny smiled reluctantly. Their sense of black humor, the way they kidded about their horrible illnesses, amazed her. Suddenly, the thought of going back up to her lonely, isolated room, with no one her age to talk with, became unbearable. “Let me tell my grandmother, before she makes other arrangements. Don’t let anybody in that bed except me.” Jenny flashed a bright smile as she stood. “I get first dibs.”
“You want to move
where?”
Grandmother looked shocked as she asked Jenny this question.
“Down to the regular cancer floor,” Jenny answered calmly, sitting up in her hospital bed that evening. “To share a room with three other girls.”
“But why? You have everything you could possibly need or want right
“Something dumb,” Kimbra kidded. “But art therapy is one of our few diversions. We have it twice a week, so we go with the flow.”
“What are we supposed to do?”
“I’ll show you,” Kimbra volunteered, and for the next thirty minutes, Jenny sorted through pinecones, ribbon, and decorative ornaments. Contentedly, she listened to the others chatter, asked a few questions, and answered vaguely when someone asked her something. She learned that she was the oldest of the four. Kimbra was fifteen and from a suburb of Baltimore. Elaine was fourteen and from rural Vermont. And Noreen was fifteen and from Quincy, a suburb of Boston.
“Noreen has ten brothers and sisters,” Elaine told Jenny with admiration. “Out where I live, there’s barely ten neighbors.”
“You should try waiting in line for the bathroom at my house,” Noreen joked. “That’s why I’m theonly one in this room who doesn’t mind being in the hospital. I finally have some privacy.”
“So, what are you in for?” Kimbra asked Jenny. “For me it’s Ewing’s sarcoma—that’s bone cancer. They cut off my arm last year, and I had a lot of radiation. They thought they had it licked, but now it’s turned up in my shoulder.” With her remaining hand, she touched the shoulder of her amputated arm. “Radiation again. The pits.”
Noreen said, “I’ve got non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma in my stomach. That’s a slow-growing tumor that’s trying to take over my body.”
“Yeah, like an alien,” Elaine inserted.
“Cute.” Noreen sniffed. “My doctor’s trying to shrink it with X rays, then I’ll have an operation to cut it out.”
Jenny shuddered. At least Dr. Gallagher didn’t have to cut up her insides.
“Leukemia,” Elaine said. “This is my second time around. I got it when I was ten and had a really long remission. Then it popped up again.”
Jenny found the news frightening. Although she realized that patients could relapse, she had been so focused on achieving her first remission, she hadn’t thought beyond it. What if she relapsed too? “Leukemia for me too,” she told the girls. “Just diagnosed.” While it wasn’t exactly the truth, Jenny didn’t feel like fielding a bunch of embarrassing questions.
“Have you gotten a room assignment yet?” Noreen asked, as she pounded a hapless pinecone onto her wreath.
“Sort of.”
Kimbra gave her a puzzled look, but before Jenny was forced to elaborate, Noreen piped up with, “So,why don’t you ask your doctor to put you in with us?”
“Sure,” Elaine agreed. “We have a room with four beds, and one’s empty. The little girl who was using it went home Monday.”
“You’d want me in your room?”
“Why not?” Kimbra said with a shrug. “We’re about sick of each other’s company, and the more the merrier.”
“Sick of each other?” Elaine cried. “Just for that, I won’t let you watch
General Hospital
this afternoon.”
“And I refuse to fetch your basin if you have a puke attack after your afternoon treatment,” Noreen added.
The one-armed Kimbra tossed a pinecone at the other two. They all laughed, and Jenny smiled reluctantly. Their sense of black humor, the way they kidded about their horrible illnesses, amazed her. Suddenly, the thought of going back up to her lonely, isolated room, with no one her age to talk with, became unbearable. “Let me tell my grandmother, before she makes other arrangements. Don’t let anybody in that bed except me.” Jenny flashed a bright smile as she stood. “I get first dibs.”
“You want to move
where?”
Grandmother looked shocked as she asked Jenny this question.
“Down to the regular cancer floor,” Jenny answered calmly, sitting up in her hospital bed that evening. “To share a room with three other girls.”
“But why? You have everything you could possibly need or want right
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