get back on her feet. Her biggest fear was that she
wouldn’tbeabletolivelifeagainandenjoyit—thatshe
wouldn’tbeabletoreturnhomeandbewiththepeople
she loved.
As for what trade-offsshe waswilling to make, what
sacrifices she was willing to endure now for the
possibilityofmoretimelater,“Notalot,”shesaid.Her
perspective on time wasshifting, focusing her on the
present and those closest to her. She told me that
uppermostinhermindwasaweddingthatweekendthat
she was desperate not to miss. “Arthur’s brother is
marryingmybestfriend,”shesaid.She’dsetthemupon
theirfirstdate.Nowtheweddingwasjusttwodaysaway,
onSaturdayat1:00p.m. “It’sjust thebestthing,”she
said.Herhusbandwasgoingtobetheringbearer.She
wassupposedtobeabridesmaid.Shewaswillingtodo
anything to be there, she said.
Thedirectionsuddenlybecameclear.Chemotherapyhad
onlyaslimchanceofimprovinghercurrentsituationand
itcameatsubstantialcosttothetimeshehadnow.An
operationwouldneverlethergettothewedding,either.
Sowemadeaplantoseeifwecouldgetherthere.We’d
have her come back afterward to decide on the next steps.
Withalongneedle,wetappedaliteroftea-coloredfluid
from her abdomen, which made her feel at least
temporarilybetter.Wegavehermedicationtocontrolher
nausea.Andshewasabletodrinkenoughliquidstostay
hydrated. At three o’clock Friday afternoon, we
dischargedherwithinstructionstodrinknothingthicker
than apple juice and return to see me after the wedding.