Chapter 100

We all stared at the CT scan images: McKayla, me and the doctor.

"It's about the size of a golf ball," he told us. "And based on what we found in your blood work, it's aggressive, too."

McKayla shook her head and let out a deep, bitter sigh. I tried not to break down right there. Things had been going so well lately.

She was taking part in a medical study testing not-yet-FDA-approved drugs, and the shakes were almost completely gone. Her brain was showing no symptoms of memory loss and otherwise she was in good health. And now this.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur for me. I don't remember half of it. They didn't quite ask, "What have you had to eat in the last 24 hours?" but it was close.

A couple of days after that visit to the oncologist, McKayla had surgery to remove the lump from her pancreas and we prayed for a speedy recovery. She was put on an aggressive chemotherapy and it appeared to be working for a little while.

But after another month, they found more cancer. This time it had returned to her colon and was spreading. They tried everything: a different mix of chemo, radiation. We contemplated more surgery.

Finally, when her doctors found it in her spinal fluid and said the next stop was her brain, we knew her time was almost up. I pleaded with her to continue with the treatments, but McKayla firmly told me that she didn't want any more.

"If I go through all that—the surgery, the chemo, the radiation—what's that going to get me?" she asked through teary eyes. "Another month? Two? And for what? Feeling like shit after taking a handful of pills? Or throwing up for two months after the radiation? No, Paige, I want to die with dignity. I just want to be comfortable and spend as much time as I can with you and our daughter."

The doctors had done all they could, and she resigned herself to the fact that this would mean her death.

I took her home. She was a shell of her former self. She had lost a lot of weight, and her glorious mane of raven-black hair was just now growing back. She seemed so frail, so weak. So unlike the vibrant woman I was used to seeing.

But her smile never changed. The look in her eyes told me how much she loved me.