November 5, I left home around 10am. It was surprisingly sunny and warm, almost 70 degree. It felt like one of these early summer days. I still recalled that only yesterday I had to wear a hat to go out. One has to check the weather before going out nowadays. It could be any season in November.
Around 10:40am, I got off Q train at 32nd street. GAP was closed recently. The empty space was a bit depressing but other businesses would soon occupy it. Sometimes I was not sure if I still enjoyed the New York hustle as I grew old. It was always busy regardless. On a workday like today, I did not expect so many people with their shopping bags rushing around. I arrived at Linda’s apartment building, entered the code and the door opened. The doorman did not pay much attention to me. He was on his phone, perhaps watching tik-tok videos since I heard the obnoxiously fast voice. I went up and knocked the door. A few minutes later, Linda’s bold head and pale face showed up. Her almost purple white lips squeezed out a smile.
Welcome, you are early. Linda let me in and closed the door.
Did you vote this morning? She asked.
I did last week. Did you?
I mailed in.
Linda sat down on her armchair and put on a black sweat hat. A simple smile logo was in the center of the brim. I sat on the couch next to her. TV was on and CNN’s news bar was rolling fast.
I woke up at 6am this morning. I said. Linda asked me why so early.
It’s just one of those days. I went to bed pretty early last night and woke up early. I glimpsed at the TV and the commentators were discussing something about PA or GA.
It will be a long day today. She muted the TV.
How are you feeling today?
Mostly normal but I bloated so much. look at me. I’m 6 month pregnant.
Linda stood up and turned side to show me her belly. Her belly was large and round and did look like 6 month pregnant.
Are you able to digest? I tried not to sound very concerned.
My stool is usual and I eat a lot of vegetables. She shrugged.
what does doctor say?
She said it was normal. Linda gave me a sarcastic look. I was sure that her doctor had seen worse.
Do you remember last week I told you that my white blood cell counts are too low that I couldn’t get treatment? Look at my arm.
Linda reached out her arm to me. A faint olive bruise near the inside part of the elbow was blended into her pale and feeble skin. Apart from the bruise, there seemed no sign of blood circulation under her skin. No other color exited either.
I had this bruise for so long and it didn’t go away. This week it started to fade. I guess my white blood cells are coming up.
Hope so. I forced a smile.
Do you want to watch TV?
Yeah let’s see what’s going on.
Let me find ABC.
The doorbell rang. Linda ran to open the door and Kim came in. I was surprised to see her. It was a workday and she was supposed to work today.
I thought you were at work today.
Our office is closed today. Nobody will look for me.
Your company is giving one day off for the election?
Yes, actually my company is one of the few to do that.
Linda and I looked at each other and shook our heads. No one expects market to be close. You can’t ask for too much when you work in financial industry.
Did you vote? Linda asked Kim.
Yeah I mailed in. My mom is going to the poll site.
Did you still vote in Florida? I asked Kim.
Kim nodded.
Hey girls, shall we grab some lunch? Linda stood up and started to pack her backpack. Her pale cheek suddenly turned peach. She took off the black hat and blew a mini fan in her face. Aside from the pink color on her cheeks, her lips, fingers and even nails were bloodless. After getting everything into her tote bag, her face turned back pale.
I got hot flash every other minute. Linda explained.
Kim and I exchanged a look and then did not say anything. Linda already had a laundry list of countless side effects. It wouldn’t help much if I asked again what does doctor say.
We walked out Linda’s apartment and headed to the restaurant that she already reserved. It was like any other normal day except that it was too warm for November. The stunning sunshine warmed my cold hands. A gentle breeze blew. I can’t help but reminiscing that same sunny day a few months ago when Linda and I grabbed a coffee in Bryant park. It was a Saturday. We found a shaded spot with a small green round table and chairs. There were several book shelves next to us. I grabbed a copy but didn’t actually read it. A group of Italian school girls in purple T-shirts giggled in front of us. Linda was excited about her upcoming trip to Vietnam late November. That same breeze brought tranquility and joy.
After lunch, we took a Uber to the cancer center. Linda once said this center was the second best in the world. She felt lucky to be in NYC despite she got breast cancer. After she was diagnosed, she spent a lot of time to do research regarding the causes, the treatments and all other aspects that might trigger cancer. Her breast cancer was not hormone driven. Nor did she have family history of cancer.
It might be the pneumonia that I got after coming back from Mexico. Cancer grows fastest when the immune system is weak. Linda said.
After finishing the blood test, we waited to go into the treatment room. I rather called it treatment cell – only a small 50 square foot space. An electronic recliner and an IV stand for the patient, 2 regular chairs for visitors and one small side cabin for storage. There was not much room to walk around.
You can only do so much if it is genetic. Kim said.
I know. But why, why me. Linda said.
l looked at the hallway behind Linda. The white light shone on the beige walls, reflecting some warmth to the dark grey floor. The absolute quietness in the waiting room devoured the pain and the sadness. There was no such thing as consequences or karma in this space. Life was reduced to pure chance. All you wish is a little luck or mercy. I couldn’t feel anything but absurdity.
Linda was called shortly and we all went to the treatment cell. She situated herself comfortably on that recliner, put on her neck pillow, left her huge water cup on the side table when an Asian nurse came in.
Hi Linda, my name is Suna. I will be your nurse today. Have you seen the doctor?
Nice to meet you Suna. I saw the doctor last Tuesday. I couldn’t get treatment since she said my white blood cell level was too low. I dont need to see doctor today and I just did my blood test earlier. Can you please check my blood test result and see if i can get treatment today?
Suna turned on the computer on the countertop against the wall.
Your white blood cell counts are good. You can get treatment today. After scrolling down a few pages, Suna confirmed.
Suna stepped out to prepare for Linda’s treatment. An African American lady came in to check Linda’s blood pressure.
Is it the right to address you as Naomi? Linda asked.
Yes I go with my first name. Naomi smiled and glimpsed at her badge.
Can you please tell me the name of the nurse? i forgot her name.
It’s Suna, Suna Lee. She is Korean.
Suna opened door and brought the IVs in. She turned on the machine and put on gloves. She tied up Linda’s left arm using an orange rubber cord and asked her to make a fist. Linda turned her gaze away. Then Suna quickly inserted the needle.
Linda’s face was distorted and she breathed heavily. In a few seconds, a flashback of blood flowed into the catheter hub. Suna insert the catheter and put on a bandage to secure it. Linda’s face was relieved when Suna untied the orange string.
Naomi came in with a few bags of ice packs. She opened the ice packs and Linda slided her hand in. Linda had 4 ice packs under her palms and feet.
They are protecting my fingers and nails. Chemo kills all fast growing cells. My nails are fragile and easy to get ripped off. Linda saw my confusing face.
Are you cold? I asked.
She nodded.
I tucked her feet with the blanket. It wouldn’t help too much but better than nothing.
Suna and Naomi both left. Now all we need to do was to wait. This was her third treatment. 3 more to go before she could get her surgery.
I probably will get mastectomy. I know it is scary but I have no choice. Linda suddenly said.
I really wish that I could breast feed my babies. I want to have tits. It’s so gross not having one and having a line across my breast. Linda continued.
Can you get the plastic surgery so that you can at least have boobs? Kim asked.
Yeah I might but I won’t have tits. Linda said.
How about your embryos. Are the genetic test results out? I asked.
Not yet. It takes 3-4 weeks.
Then we complained the housing market in NYC. The condos were less affordable compared to the pre-covid era. It was still hard to believe how it could happen. Well we all survived and just need to live with the consequences.
How often do you see your therapist? Linda asked me.
Oh I did’t see her anymore. I don’t think I need one when I am not working.
Linda smiled faintly and asked Kim the same question.
Still once a week. How about you?
Once a week too. My therapist is so nice and I feel connected with her. She helps me see things differently and really gives me a lot of good advices. Steven (her boyfriend) is also seeing one but his therapist is not good. He is a Japanese American and doesn’t talk much. Steven does’t talk either. I wonder how their session looks like.
Not a lof of options if he can only see therapist on weekends. Kim said.
Yeah I know. But he is obsessed with his work. Linda shrugged. I just hope he can make a lot of money so that we can afford a two bedroom place.
After an hour, Suna came in to change the IV. Linda took off the ice packs and finally could use the restroom.
Do you know how much this bag cost? It’s $5000. Linda pointed to the IV.
We all shook our heads. Earlier we chatted about another friend who got annual check up, OBGYN, mammogram and all other tests in South Korea just for $800. It was impossible to live in this country without a good health insurance. I felt a strong urge to have another disgusting banking job every time this topic was brought up. From a health perspective alone, it was difficult to justify returning to work. Should I have a good health insurance to cover all the health issues that arise from it?
If my company asks me to go back to work after 6 months, I have to go. Linda said sadly.
Have you applied for the social security insurance? Kim asked.
Yes I did. It was so difficult to apply. The application form is 10 pages long and it only gives you a few minutes to finish each page. It literally took me 2 hours to finish filing out the form. Linda still seemed frustrated.
And it is hard to get. One of my cousins applied a few years ago and she didn’t get it. The form is ridiculous. You are smart and can read quickly. Imagine someone who cannot read fast or simply doesn’t under what each question means a fills out that form. They make it so difficult on purpose so that fewer people would apply. Kim said.
Did you check the New York State insurance? You might get extra coverage. I said.
I didn’t know if I can since my current short term disability is already paid by the state. Linda said.
I wish I got the long term disability insurance last year. But I was perfectly healthy and the insurance cost a few hundred dollars. It’s not much but still. Now I can’t get it since I have pre-condition. Linda added.
You can let your boss know that you are unable to commute and just work from home. I dont think they will give you a lot to do. Kim said.
Yeah but I don’t want to work.
Around 5pm, Linda finished the treatment. She was less frail than when she was first treated and was able to walk on her own and carry her tote. We picked up her medicine and waited for the elevator to go down. When we entered, a white senior lady was already in the elevator.
I don’t think I can watch TV today. I am so nervous. The lady suddenly spoke up.
Yeah it will be a long day today.
Have a good evening ladies. She rubbed her hands anxiously and rushed out the moment the elevator stopped.
Nomadland 