How to Save a Life Read online

  On the sixteenth day, as I touch the tree and ask it for one more day, I hear a whisper through the branches. “Listen to your heart,” says a small female voice.

  “What?” I say aloud, startled. I look around, but there’s no one else nearby. I lean in a little closer and, feeling foolish, I ask the tree, “Are you talking to me?”

  “Love tells you everything you need,” the tree whispers. “But you have to trust in it.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask. But the tree is silent.

  I ask a few more questions, but when I don’t receive an answer, I back away, mystified. I take the elevator up to the eighth floor and make a beeline for Logan’s room.

  “The tree talked to me,” I blurt out as I walk through his door.

  He looks up and grins. “Oh good! What did it say?”

  “That I should listen to my heart and trust in love. But seriously, Logan, why is this the first time I’ve heard from it?”

  “It means you’re learning.”

  “Learning?”

  Logan nods. “The tree begins to talk with you once you’re on the right road.” His smile fades a little as he adds, “But I think when it talks to you, it also means you’re a little closer to the end. It’s guiding you exactly where you need to be.”

  “But I’m not ready for this to end yet!”

  “Don’t worry. It’s been talking to me for months now, and I’m still here.”

  “What’s it saying?”

  Logan hesitates. “That being part of a family means wanting the best for someone, and loving them, no matter what.”

  I smile at him. “Smart tree.”

  “The tree knows everything, Jill. That’s why I think it’ll be okay when it’s finally time to go too.”

  “How do you know when it’s time to go?”

  “I think the tree tells you. Do you remember Jordan White?”

  “The boy with leukemia who was here about a year ago?”

  Logan nods. “Yeah. I had the room next to his for a couple weeks. Do you remember that? The night before he died, I couldn’t sleep and I went to see if Jordan was up. He was whispering in his sleep about some tree telling him it was time to let go. I thought it was just crazy talk at the time, but when I found my way to the tree, I asked it if it helped Jordan too. It said yes.”

  I frown. “How many people has the tree helped?”

  “I don’t know. And I don’t know if there are other trees like it anywhere else in the world or if this is the only one. I just know that when people need it most, it helps. I don’t know why it picks the people it does either. We’re just lucky, I think.”

  “Yeah,” I murmur. “I guess we are.”

  On the next today, after calling the office of the specialist Dr. Frost recommended for a second opinion, I keep my appointment with Dr. Frost, sit through the news of my malignant tumor and impending death, and ask for my records, charts, and scans. After a bit of hesitation, he gives in and has a nurse fetch them for me. I take them immediately down the hall to the second-best specialist in the city, beg the nurse to get me a quick visitation, tell her I’m a nurse at Atlanta Children’s, and hope for the best. Dr. Lianne Charles finally agrees to see me at the end of the day, and the nurse ushers me in. Dr. Charles is already looking at my scans when I enter.

  “I’m afraid this is bad, Miss Cooper,” she says without any preamble.

  “I know,” I say. “I just had to hear you say it too.”

  She looks up at me. “You just saw Dr. Frost this morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s the best we have.”

  “I know. But you’re very highly regarded too, and I wanted a second opinion.”

  “I understand.” She has me hop up on the examination table, where she checks my vitals and then sighs. “Miss Cooper, I understand you feel relatively healthy, save for the headaches. Is that correct?”

  I nod.

  “But the body can fool us sometimes. In your case, I think your lack of symptoms might be your body’s way of covering for a system that has become almost completely short-circuited.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  She looks me in the eye. “I’m very sorry to tell you, Miss Cooper, but I agree with Dr. Frost’s assessment, based on these scans. If you’d like, I’d be happy to run some more tests and examine you myself, but based on what I’m seeing here, I don’t necessarily think there’s a reason to. I’m so sorry.”

  “How much time do I have?”

  “If I had to take a guess, I’d say six to eight weeks.”

  “Could it be less? Like, um, five days?”

  She squints at me. “I suppose so. When we’re talking about the brain, there are few guarantees. But let’s hope you have a little more time than that. Six weeks at a minimum sounds realistic to me. You may even get more time than you’re expecting.”

  “You have no idea how true that is,” I murmur.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nothing.” I stand up from the exam table and reach out to shake the doctor’s hand. “Anyhow, thank you. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t incorrect in accepting what is basically a death sentence.”

  “I wish the news was better, Miss Cooper,” Dr. Charles says, and I can see in her eyes that she actually means it. “I can put you in touch with a grief counselor. It might help.”

  “No,” I say. “Thank you, but I think continuing to live and learn is going to be the best medicine for me.”

  She nods and hands me her card. “Call me anytime with additional questions. I wish you the best.”

  As I leave her office, I feel lighter, somehow. It’s not the feeling I’d expect after receiving a confirmation of a terrible diagnosis. But I already knew. It would be impossible to believe in the magic of the tree without also believing that it’s right about my impending death. Having another doctor tell me that my days are numbered has just made this all a bit more real, and at this point, there’s something reassuring about knowing that I have to let go of any lingering hope. My brain isn’t going to miraculously heal itself. This is it for me.

  I find Merel on the bench outside the hospital, still conscious, and I hurry over to him, but I see him spasm and go still before I get there. I curse my timing and cry out for help. It’s Jamie who arrives to come to my aid, and after we get Merel hustled into the hospital with a few orderlies, Jamie turns to me.

  “Hey, you’re the woman I saw in the lobby of Children’s this morning,” he says.

  I blink at him. I’m certain we didn’t interact this morning, because I was rushing to get to Dr. Frost’s office, and I didn’t want to be waylaid by a conversation. “Are you sure?” I ask.

  He looks a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry. That probably makes me sound like a stalker. We didn’t talk—you were in a hurry to get somewhere—but I noticed you.”

  “You did?”

  He nods. “You’re very striking.”

  I look down at what I’m wearing today, which happens to be my Dr. Seuss scrubs once again. I’ve mostly given up on changing up my outfit with each new today. “Sure, I look like a real fashion plate.”

  “I didn’t say your clothes were striking,” he says with a laugh. “I said you were striking. Although who doesn’t love The Cat in the Hat?”

  “Personally, I prefer Red Fish Blue Fish.”

  He laughs. “I’m sure you would look equally fetching in Red Fish Blue Fish scrubs.”

  “Fetching?”

  He turns a little red. “Sorry. Too much?”

  “No.” I smile.

  “So you’re a nurse at Children’s, I’m guessing?”

  “Yes. On the oncology floor.”

  “That’s great. I’m a volunteer there.”

  “On the cardiology floor,” I say.

  “How did y
ou know that?”

  “You’re not the only one who’s been observant in the lobby.”

  He looks surprised. “Really?”

  I just smile at him.

  He clears his throat after a minute. “Okay, maybe this is weird after we just spent the last few minutes saving a man. But at the risk of sounding way too forward, what would you think about grabbing a drink with me? I don’t really want to go home yet. There’s a great little bar a few blocks from here if you feel like stopping off.”

  I study him. There’s nothing in the world I’d prefer more than grabbing a drink with Jamie right now. I know we’ll connect and that the sparks will fly and that I’ll fall just a little more in love with him. And I know, too, that in the morning when I wake up and it’s today all over again, my heart will break a little more knowing that I’m once again a stranger to Jamie. “I don’t think I can.”

  “Why not?” he asks.

  It only takes me a second to decide to tell him the truth. After all, he won’t remember in the morning anyhow. “I’m just coming from a doctor’s appointment. And the thing is, I’m dying. I have an aggressive brain tumor, and there’s nothing they can do about it. So as much as I’d love to go have a drink with you, I’d just be wasting your time. I won’t be here much longer.”

  He stares at me without saying anything. “You’re being serious? This isn’t just the most creative excuse ever to turn down a date?”

  “I’m afraid it’s true.”

  “Then unless you have somewhere else to be, you have to let me take you out. It sounds like you need someone to talk to, and I’m pretty good at listening.”

  “Jamie—” I begin.

  “How do you know my name?” he asks, looking a little startled.

  “Oh.” I pause, trying to think of a rational explanation. “I heard you say it to one of the orderlies a few minutes ago.”

  “Did I?” He looks confused. “Oh. But I’ve somehow missed yours.”

  “Jill.”

  “Well, Jill, do you have someone at home waiting for you? Or is there a friend or family member you want to go be with right now to share your news?”

  “None of the above.”

  “Then come on,” he says, offering me his arm. “You’re going to tell me everything, and we’re going to figure it all out.”

  9

  WE WIND UP at Arde & Joan’s, an upscale cocktail bar in midtown. I’m still not sure I’m doing the right thing by being here with Jamie, but at the same time, it feels inexplicably natural. I think of the bond Logan and I share, and the fact that it stems at least partially from hundreds of days that I have no recollection of. I wonder if connecting with someone is cumulative and whether Jamie feels closer to me than he would if he were actually meeting me today for the first time. After all, we have a past, even if he can’t remember it.

  “So tell me about your diagnosis,” he says once we’ve ordered and received our drinks—a Manhattan for me, an old-fashioned for him. I like a man who likes his bourbon. “That is, if you want to. I don’t want to force you to talk if you’re not comfortable. I just thought you might need a friend.”

  I stir my drink for a second. “I’ve been having headaches,” I tell him. “But I assumed they were just because I wasn’t sleeping well. I’d take a couple of Advil and get on with my day. But I finally went to the doctor, and well, long story short, apparently I have only a month or two left to live—although I kind of have the feeling it will be less than that.”

  The color drains from Jamie’s face. “Surely there’s a course of treatment available.”

  “No. My doctor said we could possibly try radiation, but it would just prolong things for weeks, at most, and it would be unpleasant. It doesn’t make sense to put myself through that if my time is limited.”

  “But what if it lets you stick around longer?”

  “It’s a quality of life thing,” I say with a shrug. “It’s a question of whether I want to deliberately make myself miserable for a large percentage of my remaining days.”

  He stares at me for a moment, and then his expression softens. “I understand. You know, my daughter was a patient at Children’s. Caroline. She had a heart defect. She died when she was six, and I’ve spent a long time wondering whether I put her through too much. Every time her doctor recommended a procedure, I’d agree to do it, because I believed there was a chance I could save her. But I lost her anyhow, and I wonder if maybe all those life-saving measures just wound up torturing her.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for that,” I say instantly. “First of all, you were following her doctor’s recommendations, right?”

  He nods.

  “And you don’t have a background in medicine?”

  “Not unless you count all the reading I’ve done about Caroline’s heart condition.”

  “Then it would have been irresponsible of you to second-guess medical advice from a doctor you knew and trusted. Doctors are always trying to do what’s best for kids. But sometimes, it just doesn’t work out. It’s tragic and awful, but it’s not because of anything you or the doctor did wrong. Conditions sometimes just don’t respond to treatment, no matter how much we want them to.”

  He looks at me with tears in his eyes. “I thought I was supposed to be comforting you tonight.” He pauses. “You know, I spend a lot of time at Children’s. I work with the kids on the cardiology floor, where Caroline used to receive her treatment. And you’re right. The doctors and nurses always do their best.”

  “We do,” I agree.

  “How do you bear it? Working with kids who may not live?”

  I think about this for a moment. “Because even if I can’t help save them, I can help give them a little extra happiness along the way. I like to think I can, anyhow. What about you? Is that why you volunteer?”

  He nods. “That’s part of it. I think it’s also because I feel like a part of Caroline is still there, inside the hospital. Like her spirit still surrounds me when I walk through the doors. But that’s sort of crazy, isn’t it?”

  I think about what Logan said a dozen todays ago. I wonder if she’s the one talking through the tree, the voice guiding all of us closer to our destinies. “I don’t think that’s crazy at all,” I say. “I think that death is impossible to fully understand, because we’re not really sure what happens next.”

  “Usually people tell me it would be healthier for me to move on.”

  “Maybe you’re not asking the right people.”

  He laughs.

  “Is there something you would do over with Caroline if you could, if you knew it was the end?” I ask after a minute. “Something about your final days together?”

  He considers this. “I’m not sure I did a good enough job of letting her know how much I loved her. Her mom left when Caroline got sick, and I think that was a hole in her life that I could never quite fill, no matter what I did. I wonder if in the end she felt sufficiently loved.”

  “She did,” I say immediately.

  “How would you know that?”

  I realize the answer is that I know it instinctually because of Caroline’s association with the tree. Whatever magic is coming through its branches is connected, somehow, to Caroline. And I simply don’t believe that a person is capable of exercising that kind of love and warmth if she hasn’t felt it deeply herself. But I can’t tell Jamie that. Instead, I say simply, “Because I barely know you, and I can feel how much you loved her. She knew you her whole life. I have no doubt that she felt that love every single day.”

  “Thanks,” Jamie says softly. “Now back to you. You asked me if there are things I’d do over again with Caroline if I’d known it was the end. How about you? What do you wish for?”

  I bite my lip. I want to tell him the truth, just like I told Logan. I want to tell him that I dream of having someone to love, some
one who loves me. That I dream of a family. But I can’t imagine saying anything more stereotypically alienating on a first date, so I keep it simple. “Love,” I say.

  He looks surprised. “How so?”

  “I don’t think I understand it yet. I think the most loving relationship of my life was with my mom, but she’s been gone for five years now. I love my dad, but it’s complicated, and I don’t know how to fix it. I guess I always thought I’d have lots of time in the future to figure it all out, to fall in love, to build a future and a family, to reconcile with my dad. But now I know I don’t. And that makes me feel like I’ve already run out of chances.”

  Jamie processes that for a minute. “I don’t think love is something we have to figure out,” he says finally. “It just exists. It’s what you feel in your heart, and right or wrong, it leads you to exactly where you need to be. The trick is learning to listen to what your heart is telling you. I think life creates so much noise that sometimes it’s hard to hear.”

  I think about the words I heard whispered in the tree. Love tells you everything you need. But you have to trust in it. It’s almost exactly what Jamie is telling me now.

  “But how do I learn to listen?” I ask.

  “I think it’s about courage. I think we all already know the answers we’re seeking. It’s just that it’s hard to face them sometimes. So it’s about being brave enough to ask the right questions and to let our instincts guide us.”

  After we finish our drinks, Jamie offers to walk me to my car. We stroll side by side down the street, and I let myself imagine, just for a moment, that we’re a normal couple and that the last hour didn’t consist largely of talking about my imminent death.