True Love (40 page)

TO:
My Ballerina Girl, Melinda

Subject:
Sad

Ever since Bailey sent me the e-mail telling me you were in the hospital, my worried imagination has been going crazy. I thought about all the things that could have made you sick—really bad flu, or some weird disease. I never thought it could be cancer. You’re too young to get cancer! I know cancer isn’t contagious: it can’t be “caught” like a cold. But why you, Melinda? It shouldn’t happen to someone as wonderful as you!

Mom says you have a good doctor and that you’ll get the best care in the world. PLEASE write me often—every day if you feel like it—and let me know how you’re doing. I think of you every minute of every day.

Jesse

P.S. I’m sending you something to cheer you up as soon as I get the money together!

TO:
Jesse

Subject:
Just to Talk

I don’t know why I got cancer, and don’t think I haven’t asked! The doctors don’t know, Mom and Dad don’t know. Maybe it’s just bad luck. But whatever it is, I sure do hate it. This doesn’t seem real. I keep thinking this is a bad dream and I’ll wake up any minute. But I don’t wake up. And I have to take chemo treatments, which scare me to death. Gee, did I really mean to write “death”? Oh, Jesse, I wish I could see you.… I wish this wasn’t happening to me.… I just want to go home and have everything the way it used to be.

Melinda

TO:
All Concerned

Subject:
Doctor’s Report

Now that we know the worst, we’re hoping for the best.

First of all, thank you for all the cards, notes and gifts you’ve sent Melinda since we learned the
news. Her hospital room looks like an annex for a boutique! Really, your generosity is much appreciated and has cheered Melinda greatly.

Melinda has been transferred to All-Children’s Hospital, where she’ll be supervised by a team of physicians in a state-of-the-art complex associated with St. Jude, the famous children’s cancer research hospital in Memphis. She has a hematologist, an oncologist, a psychiatrist (for adjustment to the diagnosis), a nutritionist, a social worker—in short, a whole team of people to help her cope with her cancer (the latest concept in treating the patient as a whole, not piecemeal). A good idea, I guess, but there are a lot of new people in our lives, the kind that parents hope they never have to meet under circumstances we never think we’ll face.

Melinda had a blood transfusion to elevate her red cell count and she looks and feels much better. She’s also on antibiotics to deal with the bone marrow infection and is fever-free for the first time in days. Tomorrow she’ll begin her first round of chemo, which her oncologist, Dr. Neely, hopes will put her into remission. Once they adjust her levels of chemo, which is pretty potent
stuff, she’ll get to return home. Then she’ll go onto outpatient status. She’ll have to come in for more treatments (the doctors call them protocols), be hooked up to an infusion pump for a few hours at a time and have more chemo dumped into her via IV, but at least we’ll be able to take her home after each treatment.

The goal is to get her into remission and keep her there. Some patients never have a relapse. Others can have one after being cancer-free for a few years. A patient is considered “cured” if there are no relapses after five years. Frankly, there’s so much to learn and adjust to that we’re all overwhelmed. I asked Dr. Neely how we’ll get through this and he said, “The same way everyone else gets through it—one day at a time.”

More later,
Lenny

M
ELINDA’S
D
IARY

July 15

The chemo started today. IVs in my arm, wads of pills in my mouth, a whole schedule of stuff that
is poisonous. Dr. Neely says it has to be strong enough to kill the cancer cells. I hope it doesn’t kill me along with it
.

I asked him if I was going to lose my hair. He said, “Maybe not.” I sure hope he’s right. I imagine a bald ballerina and I start to cry. The doctors told me that I can return to dancing as soon as I’m in remission and feel up to it. They want me to be physically active. But no one understands how hard dance is and how far behind I’ll have fallen. Where will I ever get the energy to compete again? I’m sick to my stomach and have to stop writing. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME????

TO:
Jesse

Subject:
Melinda, of course

I wish I could answer the questions you ask me, but I can’t. Yes, she’s really sick. Yes, she’s really unhappy. I don’t know about the dying part, but I won’t even THINK that! I did get to go up and visit her and she looks pretty good. Skinnier and paler, but still like Melinda. Just to prove it, I’ll bring a camera next time I go and take some pics of her and her hospital room and I’ll send
them to you. I’ll be your eyes and ears, Jesse. I promise!

Bailey

Elana’s Journal

Midnight

I bought this journal today because I have to start writing things down … private things that I can’t share in coast-to-coast e-mails, not with Lenny, certainly not with Melinda. I see my daughter, my dear child, writing in her little diary that she puts away and locks if anyone comes into the room while she’s writing in it (as if I’d ever read her personal and private diary!). I know it’s a release for her. The psychiatrist, Dr. Sanchez, was pleased when she learned that Melinda has the habit of keeping a diary. She told me that “journaling” is therapeutic. God knows I need such therapy myself, so I’ll give it a try
.