"Please save my mom!"
The doors burst open, and a flurry of activity followed. She was running along with them, interrupting the synchronized movements of the team of paramedics. The team kept moving with practiced precision, ignoring their patient's guardian's rants, rushing the stretcher into the emergency ward. Somebody grabbed her from behind but her screams followed, traveling far into the ward with her almost lifeless body on the stretcher.
"You have to calm down. You are causing a scene." A feminine voice whispered into her.
Embarrassed, she turned to face the nurse who had held her from exhibiting the albeit recessive trait of madness in her.
"She will be fine." The nurse declared after her as she proceeded to find her mother's ward.
Summer's breath caught in her throat as she peered through the privacy glass, her heart pounding with a mixture of surprise, fear, and loneliness. The sight of her mother lying in the hospital bed, surrounded by a maze of wires, tubes, and machines, sent a shiver down her spine. She hadn't anticipated the overwhelming array of medical equipment that seemed to ensnare her mother, each wire and tube silently reminding her of how quickly and at the snap of a finger she could transition to the great beyond. The extreme contrast between her mother's diminished form and the imposing machinery filled Summer with a sense of helplessness as if the thirty-eight-inch hospital bed could swallow her mother whole at any moment.
Her heart ached mercilessly, and a sense of desperation clawed at Summer's chest at the thought of the bills that would accompany her mother's condition. They had already exhausted her annual health insurance, leaving her scrambling to find alternative means to cover the costs. To get her mother through the last set of chemotherapy, she had sold every furniture and electronic item they had, every prized possession including the only gift item she still had from her dad, a priced golden turtle which he had got for her on one of his endless business trips. Their house had been listed and the real estate agent was so generous that he gave her the whole payment so that she could pay off her debt, the curtain railings which used to be her mother's treasures, the antique her mother had spent her honeymoon collecting. Parting with each item made her lose a piece of her past, leaving her feeling hollow and alone. The overwhelming feeling of loneliness shrouded her because she feared that her mother might not survive this particular ordeal.
"Miss Miles?"
She spun around to find a man who would be in his late fifties holding a flat wad of documents. He had white overalls that marked him as a hospital staff member.
"Are you the guardian of the patient in ward 002? Miss… uh… Rebecca Miles?" He hurriedly glances over his documents to confirm the name.
"Y…Yes. Yes, sir."
"Please come with me. I have a few things to share with you."
They took a short walk that seemed longer than it was down the corridors. Patients' families flanked either side of the hospital, each absorbed in his own troubles.
As they rounded the sharp corner of the corridor, Summer found herself standing before a row of VVIP wards, slightly segregated from the rest of the hospital rooms.
"Could you please wait here while I speak to the gentleman over there?" The man whom she now concluded was a doctor said to her, intruding abruptly in her thoughts.
Her eyes were immediately riveted to the "gentleman". Although he had his back turned to her, she perceived he was no ordinary visitor. His appearance was arresting, from the ginger hue of his meticulously styled hair to the tailored elegance of his expensive-looking suit.
He seemed out of place in the somber setting, an enigmatic presence amidst the hum of medical machinery and whispered conversations.
There was a palpable tension in the air as the man conversed in monotones with the doctor. He soon continued to stare into the privacy glass, replying to the doctor with mere shakes of his head. Summer couldn't help but wonder about the story behind the intensity of his gaze through the glass.
"Let's go." The doctor nodded at her and they continued down the turn. As walked past him, she tried to catch a glimpse of his face but his position made it impossible. However, she caught a subtle twitch of his mouth, a fleeting betrayal of the turmoil that might be simmering under his facade. She just couldn't shake the lingering sense of curiosity about the man. She wondered what his own story was, his relationship with whoever it was that lay on the other side of the glass.
Her own weight sat heavily on her shoulders as her mind drifted to guessing what the doctor had to say to her. Her mind wandered as she began to wonder why the doctor's office would be so far from the waiting room before they took another turn and stopped at a door that had "consulting room" written on it.
The sterile scent of disinfectants that always threatened to churn her insides each time she stepped into a hospital to be dissipated at the doctor's office.
"Please shut the door after you." He instructed, motioning for her to take a seat. The sterile scent of disinfectants that always threatened to churn her insides each time she stepped into a hospital dissipated as she entered the doctor's office replaced by an eerie calm.
She spotted the tag on the breast pocket of his lab coat.
"Dr. Simps, I erm…"
"Well, since you're the only guardian she has, I figured out that we need to break the news to you. And, please promise that you will take it in good faith."
Her heart threatened to explode in her chest as a whirlwind of thoughts whirred through her mind. She shifted in her chair, leaning forward to steady herself, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.
"Her condition has deteriorated rapidly and has now advanced to the Metastatic stage which you might know as stage four cancer." Seeing that her face remained stoic with no expression whatsoever on her face, the doctor continued.
"It's not a hopeless situation. I just need you to sign this form to consent to a mastectomy of her both breasts." He paused to study the woman before him. She was too calm and composed to be the same person who had caused a commotion when her mother was being wheeled in. Seeing that his words were hanging in the hair for longer than normal, he tapped her and she jerked involuntarily.
"Uhm… I was… I was lost in thought, I'm sorry, doc. Where did we stop?"
Dr Simps smiled and continued, "Well, I need you to sign this form to consent to a mastectomy and it will cost just about forty-five thousand dollars.
Summer stifled a gasp, her mind reeling at the exorbitant cost.
"I think that will be all for now, Miss Milan." He said in a dismissive tone.
Every detail of the day conspired against her as if the universe had orchestrated a private meeting to unravel her nerves. The bus arrived three minutes late, amplifying her frustration. Beside her, a teenager deliberately smacked her gum, the sound grating against Summer's frayed nerves. It felt as though the world itself had turned against her.
The house seemed even emptier, enveloping her with an overwhelming loneliness as she staggered in. It had been just about three hours since her mom was rushed in the ambulance, yet, it seemed like ages already. Her eyes were red-rimmed from tears as she riled her mother's bags for the slightest resemblance to dollar bills.
Sobs wracked her body uncontrollably as she released deep-throated sounds as she succumbed to the weight of her despair. In the corner, her laptop sat atop the lone piece of furniture they had managed to keep. With trembling hands, she opened it, seeking solace in the finding "How to make thousands of dollars in twenty-four hours."
Soon, a knock at the door shattered the silence, heralding the arrival of another family who had come to inspect the house. As she showed the soon-to-be-owners to the restroom, living room, and master bedroom, her heart clenched with fear as she led them through each room, each space teeming with memories of a happier time she used to know. She had grown up within these walls, being a loved-up child who sang hymns with her mom while she learned her recipes, and did laundry with her father until he disappeared from the picture.
The most insignificant item and room in that house held memories, happy memories that she was scared to live behind, memories she knew she had to protect but felt too incapable of safeguarding, memories that she knew would be lost forever if she dared to leave the house that incubated memories of the short time she had spent with her father before he left them. But amidst the bittersweet nostalgia, there was a darkness that lingered, a shadow cast by the absence of her father. She was just five years old when she awoke to the sound of her mother's sobs echoing through the empty house. In the dim light of the moon, she saw her mother clutching a piece of paper in one hand and a phone in the other, her face etched with sorrow. The garage stood empty, his side of the wardrobe hung ajar, and his shoes were conspicuously absent from their usual place on the shoe rack. Even the bathroom bore the marks of his departure, devoid of his shaving creams and other personal effects. In the months that followed, her mother's grief cast a palpable presence on their lives. She became withdrawn and left her to the mercy of babysitters. It was the last time she saw her mother dress up or adorn herself with any piece of jewelry.
"We will be moving in tomorrow afternoon, Miss Summer."
He had stood for a while, observing her wondering if he should break into her thoughts.
"Miss Summer?" He called after her, breaking into her reverie having realized she had not even heard him the first time.
"I just told you that we're moving in tomorrow. I suppose you would be out by…"
"Darling, did you see the bathtub? It's so huge!" His wife chirped joyfully, interrupting them as she squeezed his arm and snuggled against him.
The couple seemed too happy, contrasting extremely with the heaviness in her spirit. She impulsively moved to the door and bid them to leave.
"Mr. and Mrs. Bill, I think I need more time to get my things ready. It's a pleasure having you over."
As the door closed behind the prospective buyers, Summer felt a sense of urgency wash over her. With trembling hands, she reached for her phone and dialed a number she knew by heart, the digits etched into her memory.
The receiver picked up on the second ring, and Summer's heart skipped a beat as she heard Jenny's familiar voice on the other end of the line.
"Hello, Jenny. I really need your help," she said, her voice tinged with desperation that she couldn't conceal.