I Never Liked Lemonade

The warm, morning sun coats the room as time ticks lazily by.

Everyone here is either relaxing or working on some part oftheir body that needs strengthening. The trainers are nice and easygoing asthey teach their clients new techniques and the yoga instructor draws out everyword softly and quietly to create a pseudo calm environment. There is a smallwaterfall fountain next to a mural of a peaceful body of water restingunderneath a sunset that would make Thomas Kinkade proud. In the back cornerwith the rest of the yoga participants quietly breathing away their troublesyou can hear the faint melody of The Offspring’s, you’re gonna go far kid.

Every time the instructor says another word I slowly breathein and out…. every unspoken swear word I can think of. ‘What part of mypersonal survey indicated that I would like yoga as a way to relax?’ I say tomyself trying again to think of ways to get out of another class. ‘It’s thelast one so just get it over with.’ Al, Allison as her parents called her whenshe was in trouble, sat there with the other cancer patients doing relaxingstretches and only half listening to the instructor’s guided imagery story;something about a snow covered cabin. She didn’t like the cold; she loved thesnow but just couldn’t handle the cold like she use to. This is thanks to hernew friend and live in roommate; cancer. Her surgery was tomorrow, the big one,but that did mean these slow death yoga classes would end so apparently everycloud does have a silver lining.

Although it was a fitness room for hospital patients itactually was somewhat welcoming. There aren’t any big machines or hospital bedsjust exercise equipment and massage tables. A massage sounds great right nowbut of course I get the cancer that hurts when when someone touches me toohard. “Stupid bone cancer.” I say under my breath as the yoga instructor goesinto another location. Now we are at a beach. I knew we would get thereeventually. “You say something?” Jeff asks. He is the only, and I mean only,person I talk to here. Not to be self-centered but I do have my own cancer toworry about and I don’t really want others to pile on theirs. Jeff doesn’t talkabout his side effects though. Maybe because he doesn’t want to talk about itor he knows people have their own problems or whatever the reason, he does notemit self-pity… I like that.

“Stupid cancer.” I say just loud enough for him to hear.Apparently there is no sickness allowed at the beach or the cabin or whereverwe are now.

“Stupid cancer.” He smiles and raises a pretend glass insalute and I do the same.

~

Getting up from my spot on the floor after an hour is harderthan it seems when you are sick. Sick, being an understatement. I walk over tothe corner that has the colorful stretchy rope things and grab one to begin myexercises. This part I actually like doing, moving in a way that doesn’t causemore pain and actually helps calm my nerves. I skip to the next song on my‘stick it to the man’ playlist as I call it, “Eye of the Tiger” is alwaysappropriate when you want to conquer something. Although sometimes playing itaround here has the opposite effect and reminds me what I won’t be able to doanymore. Plus it is kind of tired and used in movies and books too much. Nextsong, “Cherry Bomb” much better.

Setting up to do arm stretches I see the door leading outsideopen and a man walk through. Man is the only descriptive word that is coming tomy mind right now because this man is so attractive it almost seemsunnecessary. I would say plastic surgery but I want to be hopeful. Blackishbrown short cut hair, blue eyes, medium skin color, and stubble that doesn’tlook like he has a hangover or a slob. Yep, my every turn on. I haven’t evenlooked below his neck… bingo; muscles that dare you not to be impressed. Andthere goes my focus, out the door followed closely by my dignity as I realize Iam staring because he is also staring and smiling back. Smirking is more likeit, probably because he is used to girls ogling and his male “I’m invincible”ego soars like an eagle on weed. I wasn’t ogling by the way just staring, likea creep. Remembering that these unnatural good looks often come with apersonality out of the dark ages I find my focus and listen to my music whichoddly sounds very different now. Figures.

~

Singing the words to Smash Mouth’s All Star in my head,because singing out loud gets you weird and annoyed looks, I focus on myexercises the physical therapist gave me. “These will help build up the musclestrength that you will need while you are recovering after your surgery.” Althoughshe was being very nice and would occasionally ask how I was managing, I wasstill coming off the shock of ‘You have cancer’ so my responses were usually areserved “I’m fine.” Being told you will need your strength just to surviveyour recovery is not the most inspiring thing someone can say but, I hate whenpeople sugarcoat their words so I appreciate my therapists and doctor’s candor.I don’t like false hope; it leaves you unprepared and vulnerable and if thereis one thing I don’t like to be its vulnerable.

‘I have cancer’ I sigh as I pull on the weights. This is oneof those instances that being one in a million is a bad thing. MalignantFibrous Histiocytoma, a form of bone and soft tissue cancer typically found inlegs or arms. Mine is located in my left arm towards my shoulder which is whymost of my therapy is upper body. When the doctors first started scheduling allthese scans and tests I thought this was a lot of trouble for some shoulderpain but then I saw the mass on the scan and it was all a little hazy afterthat. Luckily my doctor was really good about not beating around the bush aboutwhat needed to be done. Some patients may not like that kind of frank approachwhen their life just took a dark twist but I need that, it helped me accept realitya lot faster.

Almost done with my exercises I notice the man from earlier.

“Who is the new patient?” I ask Jeff, who had startedstrength training for his leg. Who would have thought a healthy college seniorwould have a stroke.

“He isn’t a patient. I don’t know who he is but he comes andtalks to Oliver.” He says without looking up from his spot on the floor liftinghis left leg. If he hadn’t been in such good shape before the stroke his rehabmight have been harder but he is doing really well. I am happy for him and evenmore happy that once he is done with therapy he is done with this place. Tinysparks of jealousy hit me sometimes but jealousy isn’t going to make us tradeplaces or even fix me a little. I have enjoyed our conversations, mostly aboutthe latest movies and sports; sometimes I share my music during yoga. Thedoctors are right; having someone does make it easier. Today is my last day, the day before thesurgery. I will have to come back for a progress report of some sort, just tomake sure I am coping but that will be months after.Jeff has another week but if both ourtreatment plans go as expected, this is the last time I will see him.

“I hope I never see you again Jeff.” I say to him with agenuine smile.

He laughs, “Yeah, I won’t be sad to see you go either Al.”he continues with his leg lifts.

Looking back I see the man talking to who I assume isOliver, one of the older patients. I finish up and put my equipment back. I saymy goodbye and an overly enthusiastic but none the less meaningful good luck toJeff. Then we hug solemnly and I leave.

~

Doctor Nevaus has been my doctor since the beginning, whichwas only a month ago. Something I didn’t realize until after I got cancer, mostof the talks with your doctor are in their office. Maybe that’s why it lookscomfortable because he is always here. The essentials like a desk, filingcabinets, office chair are present but instead of tacky and hard waiting roomchairs he has a small couch a couple stuffed chairs for his patients. He alsohas a bunch of pictures of family and friends placed anywhere there is space.Not the stuffy and staged portrait kind but of captured moments. Today he isgiving me a final walkthrough of my surgery tomorrow and making sure I amready.

“Your radiation treatments have gone great; the size of thetumor now will make removal easier. We will get you admitted and prepped and by7 a.m. we will begin surgery. Aside from the cancer, given your overall healthI estimate about a week maybe nine days then you can go home. You said yourparents will be flying in?”

“Yes, they will be here before it starts but will be goingback to my place to wait and move in, they are going to be helping me when Iget home.” At first when they said they were flying here I didn’t think it wasnecessary but who am I kidding. I am still a 12 year old girl when it comes tothem and I wouldn’t want it any other way. They wanted to stay for the wholesurgery but I convinced them that it was too long to be sitting in a waitingroom and told them a nurse would call and give them updates. On top of having agreat doctor he also has an amazing and thoughtful nurse practitioner.

“That is great to hear. Knowing you I was afraid that youwould say you could do this on your own. I know that you can but when you don’thave to it seems silly.” He says giving me a look that I am sure has himthinking ‘You had better let them wait on you hand and foot because if youdon’t take it easy, I will know.’

“At first I wasn’t a fan of them staying with me but then Irealized that means mom will be doing the cooking. So you won’t have to worryabout me loosing weight or not eating. She won’t give me a choice.” I amactually very happy my parents will be coming, I miss them.

“Good, sounds like I won’t have to guilt trip or threatenyou to take it easy then. I was fully prepared to do so. I was even going tohire a private detective to run surveillance for me.” He smiled, while he mightnot actually hire a P.I. I do believe he would check on me or call me and criticizewhy I was answering the phone and not sleeping. He was a good doctor and I wasglad to have him on my side.

“Do you have any questions?”

“No, I think I am good. I am going home to get stuff readyand probably psych myself out with a bunch of worst case scenarios.” I knewthis surgery was going to help me so I was actually pretty calm which DoctorNevaus could tell given his smile.

“Yes well, feel free to call me when you actually startbelieving them.” he said smiling at me.

I thank him for all he has done and leave his office.Looking at my phone the time reads 3:47 p.m. Only sixteen hours and thirteenminuets to go.