Gwendy's Magic Feather

52

THERE ARE ONLY A handful of other people sitting on the bright orange, plastic-molded seats outside of the emergency room at 10:00 AM. An older bald man nursing a sore neck from a fender-bender earlier that morning, a teenage boy with a deep cut on his lip and another under his swollen and darkening right eye from a sledding mishap, and a young Asian couple holding a pair of fussing, pink-faced twins on their laps.

When Mr. Peterson sees his wife’s oncologist, Doctor Celano, emerge via the swinging doors marked NO ENTRANCE, he immediately gets to his feet and meets him in the middle of the waiting room. Gwendy scrambles to catch up.

“How is she, Doc?” he asks.

“We gave her some pain medication, so she’s resting comfortably. There’s been no more vomiting since the ambulance.”

“Do you know what’s wrong?” Gwendy asks.

“I’m afraid her tumor markers are up again,” the doctor says, a solemn expression coming over his face.

“Oh, Jesus,” Mr. Peterson says, sagging into his daughter’s shoulder.

“I know it’s difficult, but try not to get too alarmed, Mr. Peterson. Her blood tests from Wednesday’s appointment just came back this morning. I pulled them up on the computer when I heard the ambulance call, and they’re showing an uncomfortable increase—”

“An uncomfortable increase?” Mr. Peterson says. “What does that mean?”

“It means that most likely the cancer has returned. To what extent, we don’t know yet. We’re going to admit her today and run a series of tests.”

“What kind of tests?” Gwendy asks.

“We’ve already drawn more blood this morning. Once she’s settled into a room, we’ll schedule abdominal and chest scans.”

“Tonight?” Mr. Peterson asks.

He shakes his head. “Not on a Sunday, no. We’ll let her get some rest and wheel her over to Imaging in the morning.”

Mr. Peterson looks past the doctor to the swinging doors. “Can we see her?”

“Soon,” Doctor Celano says. “They’re transporting her to the second floor anytime now. Once she’s in her room, I’ll come back down and get you myself.”

“Does she know yet?” Gwendy asks.

The doctor nods. “She asked me to be honest with her. I believe her exact words were: ‘Do not blow sunshine up my rear. Give it to me straight.’ ”

Mr. Peterson shakes his head, eyes shiny with tears. “That sounds like my girl.”

“Your girl’s a fighter,” Doctor Celano says. “So try to be as strong for her as you can. She’ll need you. The both of you.”