Morphine always made Arabelle a bit loopy, but she only got it when she was at her worst. Jennifer talked to the doctors before coming to see her mom—only because they wouldn't let her see Arabelle before she did—and it had become very clear, very quickly, that the situation was at its worst yet.
But Jennifer wasn't one for jumping straight to the bad news. Her mom was still her mom, not the cancer.
"How are you holding up?"
"Oh, you know." Arabelle chuckled, and coughed, and Jennifer placed her hand on top of her mother's, squeezing it tight. "Better now with the medicine and you here."
Jennifer swallowed, thinking back to everything Dr. Carlton said about Arabelle's chemotherapy.
Today was just supposed to be a routine treatment, followed by some extra tests, but the doctor's explanation about what happened, and alternatives, all muddled up in Jennifer's head.
All she could think of was doing everything possible to keep her mom with her.
"The doctors told me there was a ... a complication with the chemotherapy."
"Trust me, I felt it," Arabelle said. "Oh yeah, I felt it. A complication, all right." She was trying to joke, but Jennifer struggled to keep up with her mom's dark humor.
Arabelle was a stubborn one, and she wasn't ever going to admit that she was in pain.
That was why it took the doctors so long to catch the cancer in the first place—she went on acting like she was invincible for far too long.
It had taken a lot of convincing in the first place to let Jennifer help pay for the treatment when Arabelle's health insurance wouldn't cover the treatment.
"Mom ... Dr. Carlton said it was serious. I know you're not feeling good right now, but they said the sooner we decide, the better. Hours could make a difference."
"The doctors say a lot of things, hon."
Jennifer buried her face in her hands. This wasn't the type of conversation to have when her mom was loopy on morphine and she was still processing the shock of the situation, but they had to make decisions quickly.
"Please, I don't want to lose you, not after all this," Jennifer said. "We need to at least talk about it."
At last, Arabelle sighed and adjusted her head on her pillow so she could sit up straight. "I know, I know, but after they put me under, I've had a lot of time to think. This last year has been hard, Jenny."
Jennifer shook her head. "You're not about to say what I think you're going to say. No. You can't give up."
"I'm not giving up, I couldn't, not with you still around.
I'm just trying to be realistic, okay? Dr. Carlton said it's my blood that reacted poorly to the radiation treatment, something about the proteins.
According to him, it's very rare to have as extreme a reaction as I did .
.. and there's very little they can do."
"He told me what happened." Jennifer wiped the tears from her hot face. "I should have been there for you."
"You can't live your whole life looking after me. It's no way for a young woman to live. I already hate that you gave up your dream job and that nice boy of yours to come here ..."
Jennifer leaned forward and hugged her mom.
It was an awkward gesture because her mom was lying down, but they made it work.
After a year of the emotional trauma of her mom's diagnosis, Jennifer appreciated every moment she could get with her, but holding her like this, it was hard not to notice how small and frail she'd become over a couple of months of chemotherapy.
"That's so like you, to worry more about my romantic life than your health," Jennifer said.
Arabelle squeezed her tight. "As much as I love having you here ... the truth is, until now, your love life was in more danger than I ever was."
"Don't say that, mom. I'll worry about finding a new boyfriend once you're better."
"You say that like you're not afraid of what's going to happen next. Jenny, they can't use chemotherapy to treat my tumor anymore."
"This isn't the end of the road, not yet," Jennifer said with a hint of desperation. "Dr. Carlton said there's a special treatment. We need to decide right now. You already know what my answer is."
Arabelle sighed, closing her eyes as if she'd never been so exhausted before. "I know, but like I said, we need to be realistic. We can't afford the treatment. If my insurance wouldn't cover the chemo, it's not going to cover some experimental drug, either."
"I don't care. I'll pay for it. I can get a third job if that's what it takes. I'm not going to let you die if there's still something I can do."
Arabelle shook her head sadly. "You're going to get yourself killed doing that, and then what will all that work be for?"
"If I can save you, then it'll be worth it."
Jennifer wasn't going to admit it out loud, but she would do anything it took to save her mom. Her mom was the most important person in the world to her, and she couldn't imagine losing her. She would never let something as mundane as money end up causing her death.
"Did Dr. Carlton tell you much about the new treatment?" Arabelle said.
"He told me it's a new, revolutionary medication that can detect cancer cells.
It will target and kill them without harming the rest of your body.
You'll still get sick while you're on the pills, but it should be less harmful than chemo, and it won't affect your blood nearly as much, which is why he thinks it will work for you. "
"But it's still in the very early stages, and it's not cheap. Did he tell you how much?"
Jennifer shook her head. "I told him I didn't care, I would pay whatever amount it would take to save you."
Arabelle gestured to a stack of papers on the table beside her bed. "Those are the forms right there. It says the total amount."
Jennifer took the papers, a lump in her throat forming as she started scanning the pages. She really didn't want to know how much it was going to cost. It was one thing to say she would pay whatever she had to, another to face the reality of the high costs of medical care.
The forms went over the specifics of the treatment, mostly repeating what Dr. Carlton told her about how the pills worked, that it was experimental and couldn't guarantee results or the frequency of side effects, but that trials so far had been favorable.
Ninety-eight out of one hundred early trials experienced complete eradication of their cancer after several months of treatment, depending on the type.
She'd been expecting a high number, but when she found the cost at the bottom of the second page, her jaw dropped. "Two thousand per pill?"
"There's more," Arabelle said, her voice uncharacteristically dull.
Jennifer kept reading.
For Arabelle's lung cancer treatment, the recommended care plan was fifty pills administered once every three days.
The papers went on to explain the phases of treatment, the monthly payment plan, the significance of the number chosen, but the words blurred on the page as Jennifer's mind focused on that exorbitant number. Two thousand per pill. Fifty pills.
Jennifer lost grip of the papers, and they scattered to the floor. "A hundred thousand dollars ... where am I going to get money like that?"
Even as a monthly plan, that was $20,000 per month. Even if she got a third job, and a fourth, she couldn't afford that. There weren't enough hours in the day for her to work and ever come up with that number.
"You're not, Jenny. We're going to let this go. I can't let you go off the rails trying to make up that impossible amount of money."
Tears pooled in her eyes again. "Fuck no. I'm not giving up."
"Watch your tongue, dear."
Jennifer scowled, mostly because her mom was the one who usually swore like a sailor, but the cancer had calmed her fiery attitude and filthy mouth.
But the reaction was also to hide how she felt sweat dripping down her back, her body heating up, her head started to spin.
Another job wasn't going to cut it, not if she needed to pay such a high amount each month.
Maybe there was a way to spread out the payments over a longer period, or another way for her to get the funds besides a regular job.
Blood pounded in her ears, keeping her from thinking straight.
"I'll take out a loan. I'll find a way." She crouched to pick up the papers she'd dropped, putting them back into their neat little stack.
"No. You have to let me be, Jenny. My time has come, and God knows it's my fault." Arabelle sighed. "Never should have let your father talk me into smokes. Never could go a day without one after the first."
Jennifer's father had died five years ago in a bad car accident. If he'd lived longer, he might have developed lung cancer, too, for all they knew. He'd been smoking since he turned 13 but died before it could develop. They didn't talk about her dad much. The topic was too painful for them both.
"I'm not giving up, and neither are you." Jennifer flipped to the page that required her and Arabelle's signature. "I'm going to find a way, and you're going to let me."
Arabelle shook her head and pushed the papers away. "I can't let you do that."
"Mom, please. You're all I have left, and you're worth way more than any amount of money can buy. I just need some time to think. Please just sign the papers so we can get this started before it's too late."
Arabelle looked doubtful, and then she yawned, resting her head back in a sleeping position. "I'm tired, Jenny. I'll sign the papers, but only if you promise not to submit them to Dr. Carlton until you find a way to make sure you can afford it."
Jennifer pushed the papers closer to her mom. "I promise. Please, sign them."
Arabelle shook her head, took the papers and pen from Jennifer's outstretched hand, and signed her name on the dotted line in her elegant cursive. "If you're lucky, I'll live to regret this."
Once Arabelle's name was signed, Jennifer hugged her again. "I love you, mom. I won't let you down."