The weather was exactly what we had expected: warm and cool at the same time, the perfect state for a stroll. We stopped by a tree and sat down on the bench underneath it. It provided the perfect shade for us to rest, so I asked Dawn, "Is this good?"
She nodded and asked, "Could you help me?" So I lifted her into my arms and sat her down beside me and took my cup from her hand.
We were silent for a while, enjoying the weather and our drinks. My americano got me more awake with each sip and it helped with clearing my mind and getting the sleep out of my system. That had me thinking more about our earlier chat. I wasn't sure how to raise this topic again without being defeated again by Dawn's tenacity. It was part of the reason why I wanted to raise the issue with a much clearer mind and have Dawn tell me the most important things in her path to recovery (or a just-don't-get-worse campaign). I knew when Dawn becomes stubborn, she'll win. She may know this already and use this to her advantage, which means that it would be a game over for me.
"Dawn…" I began, placing my drink down on the bench, and lost my guts. In the middle of sipping her drink, Dawn looked at me in question, her head tilted. "About that talk… You know."
Dawn furrowed her eyebrows, remembering it just too well and looked determined to stand her ground.
"It's important for me, Catherine and all of your doctors to be notified correctly of your body state. If you don't wish to tell me, you can tell Catherine or any of your doctors since they'll come to check on you often. But when you move to the hospice, you'll have no one to tell your situation and how much it hurts, except me. If you don't tell me, then I can't give you the correct meds you'll need. That'll worsen your state much more quickly than it should… I don't even want to think of the consequences because I know they will be terrible."
I let my head drop onto my palms, shaking my head lightly to get rid of those horrendous thoughts. I knew my voice would come out sounding muffled, because of both the position and the emotions I was facing, but I knew I needed to keep talking so Dawn would finally understand my point of view and then maybe her ground would waver.
"When that happens and especially when I learn that it was something that could be solved with something I already know or not anything to be considered as needing "special attention", I won't be able to forgive myself for that into the deep future as well. It would haunt me for years, maybe forever. Just the very thought that it could have been cured so easily will lead me to thinking that you didn't have enough trust in me to tell me those things. It may be hard for you to understand my viewpoint, but I think you still need to know why I keep insisting on this.
"I'm not asking you to tell me now, just like you did with your ototoxicity. If you feel uncomfortable, just give me a compromise; tell someone, just someone, who can provide the solution that wouldn't make you feel hurt more than it should." I was half-begging, the only difference being I was looking into her eyes without kneeling. I wish I had thought of kneeling in front of her, but then others would look at us weirdly.
Dawn looked completely torn. I think she finally understood exactly what my stance was but unwilling to let go of her ground. She was torn but considering my point, if I either talk more or give her time, she might agree to my compromise.
I chose the latter: what I've told her was all I could say, and I think she would understand better as this was my second time addressing her with this topic and the rest had cleared her mind as well.
By way of giving her time, I finished my americano in a big gulp and thought through the topics I would be quizzed on later by my uncle. He was unsure if my knowledge was enough to support Dawn in the future at the hospice, so he decided to put me through a consistent mound of tests during our stay here with Dr Jones and a few other doctors. This topic was about SCLC, something I knew a lot of information about and I could give a full lecture without missing out on any of the essentials.
"I…" Dawn began, pulling me out of my thoughts. "I didn't know the effects would be as bad as what you told me."
I chuckled lightly and answered, "That was just putting it mildly. I don't even want to imagine that moment, or any that hits the truth that you'll be away from me much sooner than I wish."
I was nearly tearing up and I could feel the tears gathering in my throat. I swallowed it down, along with the rising grief and anxiety.
Swallowing back that mound of anxiety helped me understand the first stage before people get anxiety disorders from the loss of their loved ones. The thought of Dawn disappearing from my life was already something out of a terrible nightmare, but now I know it's something I would be facing in the near future, which is the base of my anxiety: one of my worst nightmares would become reality. Before that anxiety could pull me down, I shook my head lightly, pushing those answerless thoughts away into the very back of my head.
I locked eyes with Dawn, her face reminding me that time hasn't come . Focusing on just her face helped me not think about those thoughts, my mind assuring me Dawn was fine, although I knew deep down that wasn't the truth.
Dawn opened her mouth again and I desperately hoped she didn't read the faint sheen of anxiety left in my eyes. "I can agree with your compromise. I'll tell someone else for now if I feel off, but I'll try to tell you. It may take some time, but I think it's necessary."
That made me smile. Until she said those two words.
"For you."
So it still wasn't for her own good. Well, at least she promised.
Deep down, I couldn't help but think that just like me — just exactly like me — Dawn began to read my eyes so well that even faint traces of emotions were crystal clear to her now.