The air was crisp and sharp this morning, just the way Adrian liked it. The ground was wet thanks to the sudden rainstorm that started about an hour before she took off for her morning run. It had lasted only about 30 minutes. All the while, Adrian watched from her living room window contemplating whether or not she would still partake in her Sunday morning ritual after the drops subsided. So when Adrian decided to go for it, she was sure to wear her all-weather, waterproof jacket and Nike running shoes that had good tread on them. The sky was still gray but the sun was doing its best to stretch its way through the clouds and make an appearance. Adrian was hoping the sun would win the battle today. She needed the sun. Adrian inhaled, arms up. Then exhaled, arms down. She repeated these motions five times in her driveway facing the street. The block was empty and somber. She did a few quick but focused stretches--side to side, lunges then squats--followed by one minute of jumping jacks to prepare her body for takeoff. Then her feet made greetings with the pavement.
Usually, Adrian would run with earphones tucked in and music blasting through its speakers--a fact that made her husband nervous and annoyed. But today, she'd wanted to hear what she had been missing: the music that played in front of her.
The Near Eastside neighborhood of King-Lincoln was not what it was six years ago when her and Troy moved here. Gentrification had done a number on this once urban craddle of jazz in the 1960s and 70s turned media perpetuated ghetto of the late 80s. It was at the end of 2012 they moved in a nice, remodeled and spacious double that housed three bedrooms and two baths on 21st Ave. It was near downtown and near their jobs. The rent was more than reasonable and it was perfect. Previously, Adrian only took her morning runs on Broad Street, one of the main streets in Columbus that housed important buildings and ushered you into the downtown area. Perhaps the media perpetuated crime, dilapidated house and down on your luck people got psyched even her free-spirited mind, and so she did not "feel safe" jogging throughout the main neighborhood. But any preconceived notions about the people (who were in fact, her people) was smashed when she saw a group of black women running down Mt. Vernon Avenue one morning on her way back from an early morning coffee run for Troy. And so it was, the next day, Sunday that her ritual began.
Pat, pat, pat, pat.
That was the sound of her feet, a sound she was not familiar with. Adrian didn't know the rhythm of her feet well or the crunching of the gravel beneath her, nor the splash of water that she occasionally stepped in. She breathed in the soft and steady gusts of wind that made that cool autumn air all the more apparent. She even waved to new faces. Or perhaps they were old faces that she'd seen before. Now, her ears weren't shoved with her music of choice that could range from Pharrell to Mara Hruby to Kendrick Lamar to Jack Johnson. Adrian chuckled out loud.
There was music in front of me.
Adrian's teeth would clinch tightly closed when any thoughts of the next three months entered her mind. She also pumped her legs harder. She used to find peace and excitement when thinking about her future--immediate and otherwise. Now she felt tension, anxiety and fear. The latter word was uncomfortable to her. When she felt fear, she wanted to crush it or run from it. It was what propelled her take up boxing as means of recreational workout when her brother told her only men do that for fun. Or, when her friends and family looked at her funny when she told them the neighborhood they'd settled on to live. What made her go for the second and last Master's degree. Sometimes it was the fear in another's eyes that propelled her to action. But now it was her turn to fear her future. And she could not run and do the opposite. She would have to face it. And she was not ready. She was afraid.
Her watch informed her she had been running for 22 minutes and three miles. She saw him when she got to the beginning of her street where she had decided to walk the rest of the way home. Troy was fumbling around in the car while on his cellphone--her source of annoyance and one of his idiosyncrasies she accepted. He momentarily went into the house then was outside again, two of her bags in his hands. He opened the trunk then hung up the phone, putting it his jacket pocket and commenced to rummage around in the trunk. He looked up and saw her. He straightened his back. She saw his white teeth smiling at her before she completely saw his face. Instant chills ran through her whole body. She sped up her walk, excited for her immediate future that ended with her face buried in his chest. She closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar smell of vanilla and musk.
The chemotherapy would be intense and often. 4xs a week, twice a day. Because of these Adrian would spend four straight days housed in the cancer treatment center--a resident in a hospital that donors wanted to feel more like a home. Today, she'd start on a Sunday. After that, it would be Tuesday through Friday. FMLA leave had not yet been approved through Troy's employer so he could not immediately be present for each bout of chemo. Surprisingly, Adrian's older sister Candace had offered to sit with her during the afternoon while her mother was fortunately available to her day or night.
Adrian had read online that meditating had proven to assist patients emotionally and mentally in "getting through" prolonged medical treatments. And so she started practicing her most closely held scriptures and quotes with a soundtrack of quietness. But no amount of meditation could prepare her for the first IV injection that was both gently and aggressively forced into her forearm. It was not the initial sharp sting of the needle's end into her skin. It was everything that came and would continue to come after that: sterile food the nurses passed off as stellar, uncomfortable beds, the doctors orders that call upon her to sleep straight up or sleep on the right side, then the left side two hours later and again on the right side another four hours later, calling for assistance because she was too weak to lift herself to get out of bed. And the worst part was knowing this would be her future for the next 2 months, "or more." The latter Adrian overheard the oncologist say to Troy one evening although those words were not explicitly spoken to her.
That first night Adrian had the fish dream. It was the same fish dream she had the previous two nights. The fish dream was a colloquialism that proved to ring true time and time again. It meant that there was a current pregnancy yet to be revealed. Or, there was a coming pregnancy yet to be discovered. She had called her mother the morning after the first night she had the dream.
"No, not that I know of," Barbara stated after Adrian asked if there was a family pregnancy her mother forgot to mention to her.
"Are you sure?" This Adrian asked twice. She knew the fish dream just didn't come to pass.
"Yes, I'm sure," her mother answered.
And so it was the third night that she had dream of fish that woke her at 4 a.m. to dimmed hospital room lights and the television turned on but the volume on mute-just the wait she liked it. As she was becoming fully awake, her heart began to race rapidly as she tried to scan her mind to the last time her period had come. Her menstrual cycle had remained consistent, all while cancerous cysts danced along in her abdomen for who knows how long. She touched her forehead as she could feel sweat starting to seep through her skin. She looked over at the desk table that housed her purse that housed her phone. She couldn't immediately reach it.
"Ms. Duffey, are you ok?"
That was the nurse's station.
Stupid heart monitor must have alerted them.
Adrian told some silly white lie about being excited about a television program she was watching. She continued to try to reach for her purse. It was far enough that she'd have to get out of the bed, but just a little. She rummaged around in her purse. It made her even more anxious once she realized she had not cleaned it out the way she planned before her trip to the center. The phone was lodged in a middle pocket below receipts and other miscellaneous papers that needed to be thrown away months ago.
Her thumb was playing ping pong with the phone's commands as she fumbled through apps upon apps to find the one that held her ovulation calendar. Adrian made a sound that sounded like a combination of a grunt and a sigh when she could not find it or remember under which header she kept it. Her eyes widened as she discovered new information that was literally right at her finger tips. She fumbled with the remote and pushed hard and long on the red button to signal that it was her who now needed assistance.
"Nurse, I need a urine test right now please."
That first night Adrian had the fish dream. It was the same fish dream she had the previous two nights. The fish dream was a colloquialism that proved to ring true time and time again. It meant that there was a current pregnancy yet to be revealed. Or, there was a coming pregnancy yet to be discovered. She had called her mother the morning after the first night she had the dream.
"No, not that I know of," Barbara stated after Adrian asked if there was a family pregnancy her mother forgot to mention to her.
"Are you sure?" This Adrian asked twice. She knew the fish dream just didn't come to pass.
"Yes, I'm sure," her mother answered.
And so it was the third night that she had dream of fish that woke her at 4 a.m. to dimmed hospital room lights and the television turned on but the volume on mute-just the wait she liked it. As she was becoming fully awake, her heart began to race rapidly as she tried to scan her mind to the last time her period had come. Her menstrual cycle had remained consistent, all while cancerous cysts danced along in her abdomen for who knows how long. She touched her forehead as she could feel sweat starting to seep through her skin. She looked over at the desk table that housed her purse that housed her phone. She couldn't immediately reach it.
"Ms. Duffey, are you ok?"
That was the nurse's station.
Stupid heart monitor must have alerted them.
Adrian told some silly white lie about being excited about a television program she was watching. She continued to try to reach for her purse. It was far enough that she'd have to get out of the bed, but just a little. She rummaged around in her purse. It made her even more anxious once she realized she had not cleaned it out the way she planned before her trip to the center. The phone was lodged in a middle pocket below receipts and other miscellaneous papers that needed to be thrown away months ago.
Her thumb was playing ping pong with the phone's commands as she fumbled through apps upon apps to find the one that held her ovulation calendar. Adrian made a sound that sounded like a combination of a grunt and a sigh when she could not find it or remember under which header she kept it. Her eyes widened as she discovered new information that was literally right at her finger tips. She fumbled with the remote and pushed hard and long on the red button to signal that it was her who now needed assistance.
"Nurse, I need a urine test right now please."
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