REBIRTHDAY chapter 15
Natalia's Rebirthday
Natalia welcomed the distraction of a cake, of visitors and party favors and overindulging in her socials. She’d take it. She looked forward to easing the precautions—the masks and chapped hands, the darkness of even the brightest hospital rooms. As soon as the new cells flowed into her body, then engraftment would begin.
Dr. Lonergan noticed Natalia’s new velour joggers-and-hoodie set on rounds. “That’s lovely,” she said. “Is it velvet?”
Natalia held out her sleeve so the doctor could brush the fabric this way and that.
“The color reminds me of a flowerpot,” Dr. Lonergan said. “Terra-cotta.”
Natalia’s sleeve shimmered at her as she rested her arm. “I’d call it orange, but yeah. Kai says it’ll pop on camera.”
Dr. Lonergan stood back, hands linked on her drooping stethoscope. Her eyes swept over Natalia yet again, top to bottom and back.
“I guess today’s the day,” Natalia said.
Dr. Lonergan grabbed her socked foot, squeezed it, and said, “Everything’s going to go brilliantly. Families make a fuss about getting the donor cells, but as far as procedures go, there’s not much to it. I’ve already spoken with the lab. They’ll be coming round sooner, before noon. You’re second on the docket.”
“Who could possibly be more important than me on my rebirthday?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Dr. Lonergan made an airy gesture as she hooked the stethoscope onto the wall. “Maybe a child with critically low platelets, for instance?”
“Geez, that’s really specific for a hypothetical,” Natalia said. “Wait, is it Chase?”
But Dr. Lonergan had already begun clicking through the display on the IV pump, as she tended to do whenever there was a lull in the conversation. Natalia twisted around and straightened the IV tubing that had wrapped itself around the guard rail.
“Don’t let this keep you chained at your bed,” Dr. Lonergan said, straightening a kink in the line. “You should still get your laps in, so long as you mask up well.”
“You’re really not going to update us at all on Chase? Ever?”
Dr. Lonergan’s lips tightened around an imaginary point. “How would you like it if I went around, telling every curious person about your status?”
“I’d love it,” Natalia said. “You’d save me a lot of time on here.” She dropped her phone in her lap. “All I want to know is whether he’s getting his conditioning. Blink once for yes.”
Dr. Lonergan stared back unflinchingly. She raised her arm and pointed to the nursing station outside. “I saw a very large cake with your name on it. Who brought that?”
“Paige and I think he’s not conditioning, and here’s why: There’s no balloon countdown calendar on his wall this time, and Stacey has gone radio silence with my mom, which is strange, right? But I can’t figure out why. Is he too weak to take chemo? Did Maren change the plan? If he can’t transplant, then what’s he doing here?”
“I’ll be back in time for the infusion,” Dr. Lonergan said. She looked sidelong at Natalia. “I’m immune to charming young people, you know.”
“I’m his friend, too, you know. We had this strange conversation the other day and it’s got us worried about him.”
“Strange? Strange how?” asked Dr. Lonergan. Then she stopped herself. “Strike that,” she said, with a shake of her head. “Remember, no outside cake. Hospital sweets only.”
“Chase says the hospital cupcakes taste like chalk.”
“Oh? I rather like them.” Dr. Lonergan shot her gloves into the trash and opened the door. Paige and Kai’s voices drifted into the room.
Before she could escape, Kai and Paige rushed Dr. Lonergan, accosting her with a conical party hat. “Oh, that’s not necessary, girls,” she said, leaning backward like a contortionist. Paige, who was much taller, reached easily over the doctor’s head and began fussing with the angle of the hat.
“Perfect,” Paige said, turning Dr. Lonergan by the shoulders to face Kai, who photographed them together. Paige flashed the peace sign as Dr. Lonergan blinked rapidly into Kai’s outstretched phone. “The hospital group have a policy against posting images of the staff,” she gasped.
“Too late,” Kai cackled. Then she laid a hand on the older woman’s shoulder, switching to a more serious tone. “I’ve got everything on a glam filter, and you’ve got the cutest baby face, see?” She turned the screen back so Dr. Lonergan’s horrified face went violet. “Damn, look at your brows, girl! They’re giving Y2K, I’m obsessed!”
“Good God,” said Dr. Lonergan, lunging out of their grip and down the hall.
Kai looked over to Natalia. “She’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. Seriously, why was I so afraid of doctors?”
“Here,” Paige said, showing Natalia the photo of Paige and Dr. Lonergan. Hearts drifted off the bottom of the image. “Everyone’s following us live,” she said.
“We did quite a bit of prep work for today,” Kai nodded. “And there’s a surprise or two left.” She winked. “Oh! And Nattie, when you post today, remember all your hashtags. #rebirthday, #bravebaldgirl.”
“Okay,” Natalia said. “Have either of you heard anything from Chase?”
Paige and Kai glanced back, across the unit.
“Door’s closed,” said Paige. “I invited him. Multiple times.”
Kai nodded. “We both did. Listen, can you do me a massive favor?”
“What?”
“Put on your glam for the video,” Kai said, circling her face with her cat-claw nails.
Natalia went to her sink with a zippered cloth bag stuffed with glow-themed products. She cleansed and rinsed her face, rubbed in a glow tint sunscreen, waited for it to sink in. She checked Chase’s TikTok, only to find the same selfie from several days before. Then she put on mascara and lined her eyebrows and applied some shockingly vivid color onto her dry lips. Kai was right, though. It all worked with the outfit. She posted a selfie, #rebirthday #cancerfluencer #bravebaldgirl. Half a dozen hearts fell instantly. Natalia rubbed the fabric against her cheek, ran her finger against the grain, swept it back to smooth it down. She went through all the people who’d sent hearts, name by name. Something Maren had said came back to her. “Going to the ICU is like going up to space. When the astronauts come back, they’re always a little different.”
Natalia welcomed the distraction of a cake, of visitors and party favors and overindulging in her socials. She’d take it. She looked forward to easing the precautions—the masks and chapped hands, the darkness of even the brightest hospital rooms. As soon as the new cells flowed into her body, then engraftment would begin. Dr. Lonergan had explained that the cells would exit the blood and “land” all over her body, not only in the bone marrow but in each of her organs. Some would divide and multiply in the flowing blood. Natalia returned to this image frequently, awestruck and disgusted in equal measure.
She practiced a big smile in the mirror, and seeing she’d licked off all her lip color, she reapplied the coral pigment that tasted like perfume. Smiling wide, she posted another #baldie #baldbravegirl #cancerfluencer #rebirthday #celebratewithme for good measure, this time tagging Chase.
Maren, Dr. Lonergan, and Will stood in a tight semicircle outside Natalia’s door, talking excitedly amongst themselves, and so Sara excused herself to take a quick shower. Natalia was so glued to her phone that she didn’t hear Sara say goodbye, which was just as well. Whatever it takes to get through the day.
Her own OCD had made an appearance, too, though in a way she’d never dealt with before: catastrophic weather events that could disrupt the actual infusion. She’d installed a weather widget on her phone the week before, which, predictably, had made her check the weather even more. A tornado in October in Minnesota was a long shot, but there were other scenarios that pestered her too, like an earthquake, which was all the more horrifying because the pediatric floor was 8 floors up. On the other hand, a flood seemed less likely for the same reason. But then there were random shootings, perhaps a deranged worker. One of the janitors or laundry guys could snap.
She talked about these thoughts with nobody. Getting out of the shower, she squeezed out her hair, toweled off, got dressed, and took two Ativans. Today’s a celebration, she reminded herself. A day to honor Natalia’s toughness, Izzy’s generosity. Their incredible luck.
Sara pulled her door shut behind her. At the shadowy end of the hall, a narrow strip of light lined the bottom of Stacey’s door.
She’d hewed to Will’s advice about the Thomases: it’s better not to bother them, he’d said. They’re under so much stress going back to the ICU, and disappointment. “She’ll call you when she’s ready,” he’d said.
Sara walked over to the quiet door and hovered. She laid her knuckles on the door, knocking so gently that she could hardly hear them herself. When nothing happened, she backed away and walked quickly toward the front desk.
“Sara!” called a voice behind her. Sara turned and saw an open door at the end of the hallway. Stacey moved toward her, carrying a manila envelope. “Hey,” she said, “we’ve been thinking about you guys.” She was short of breath as she handed it over. “Good luck today.”
“You didn’t have to give her anything.”
“It’s not much. He’s been into sketching again lately.”
“I’m glad to hear that. That’s good.” Sara ran her thumb across the metal clasp. “How’s he doing, after all that commotion?”
Stacey pulled her sweater close. “He is cranky and mean and no fun to be around,” she said, forcing a laugh. She gathered her hair and pulled it behind her shoulder. An inch of uncolored hair had grown out at the roots. “But then I’d be cranky, too, if I was poked and prodded all night.”
“I’ve been meaning to call you, but it’s been so crazy on our end.”
“Of course,” Stacey said. A growl rose from her stomach. “Excuse me, goodness.”
“I know exactly what you need,” Sara said, sensing that Stacey nearing the end of her attention span. “My dad brought this graduation-sized sheet cake in today. I could use some help getting rid of it.”
“Oh, you’ll be fine, the residents and the nurses will eat it up,” Stacey said, with a wave. She backed off a few paces. “Be sure to give Natalia a big hug for me.” She pointed to the envelope. “I saw him draw it. It’s a good one.” She waved a quick bye-bye, and she was off.
Youthful voices, loud and giddy, filled the pediatrics floor as Sara approached the double doors. A crowd of Natalia and Paige’s classmates from Holy Spirit had invited themselves to the rebirthday, led by Kai, who led the group carrying ukulele. Gwen’s voice boomed over the chatter. “Alright, everybody,” she said. ”Listen, we’re very happy to see you all, but you’ve got to respect the rules.”
Paige, who was apparently the videographer, posted herself by Natalia’s door, arms outstretched, capturing the crowd.
“We’ll be out of here in one minute, tops,” Kai said. She struck a tinny chord, and a dozen mismatched voices clarified into a single key. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Nattie—” here, Kai stopped strumming and conducted a four-part harmony, nails outstretched—”happy birthday to you!”
A cheer reverberated around the unit, led by Natalia, who hovered behind Paige’s shoulder wearing the widest orange smile. A few of the other bald kids looked out their windows or hung at their doors. Noise makers and clapping and a final ukulele flourish resonated to every corner.
Gwen’s bellow broke up the applause. “That was lovely, guys, but I really need you to clear out now.” She strode toward the dawdling teenagers, in their white and navy uniforms, until they started moving toward the double doors. “So great,” Gwen said, sweeping her arms forward. “Great harmonies, but I’ve got other patients trying to sleep.”
“Thank you guys,” Natalia shouted, waving from the door.
“Okay, let’s dip,” Kai said, and moments later, the group had vanished out the double doors.
“Wow,” Sara said, walking up to Paige and Natalia. “I was not expecting that.”
Paige cut the video and eased her phone into her back pocket. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the folder. “Court papers?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Sara said, handing it to Natalia. “It’s a gift from Chase.” Natalia’s smile melted away.
“Do you want me open it?” Paige asked.
“In a minute,” Natalia said, putting it away.
A wheezy laugh came from the door. “Am I supposed to stay out?”
“Jerome,” shouted Gail, “you’ve got to put on a gown if you come in here.”
“Punkin!”
Natalia opened her eyes to see Grandpa Jerome standing in the door, holding his cap in his hands. “Did you get some of that cake? I had them decorate it for you.”
“I’d totally eat a piece, Grandpa,” Natalia said. ”But there’s a ban on outside food. My doctor would kill me.”
Gwen came to the door. “Hello everybody, wow, good crowd today, Nattie.” She leaned in slightly. ”They’re pulling your cells out of the deep freeze right now. Is everyone here that needs to be here?”
“Excuse me, miss,” Jerome said, sidling up to Gwen, who looked sharply over her shoulder at him. ”Would it be better if I stayed out here?”
“Yes,” she said, looking him over.
Gwen turned back to Natalia, holding up two syringes. “This is premedication for the cell infusion. A little Benadryl, a touch of steroids, so the cells go in nice and easy.”
Her eyes went to Jerome, who’d crept up to the door again. ”Sir? Would you be more comfortable with a chair? Or I’d love for you to wear a mask and gloves.”
“Jerome, either put a mask on or back off,” Gail said. She lowered her voice. “We’re farm people, this isn’t really our scene.”
Jerome backed off, hands raised. “Pardon me,” he called, bumping into Will, who steered him off somewhere.
“Rebirthdays always packs them in.” Gwen removed the first vial and inserted the second. ”A little bit of a tingle now,” she said. The medicine felt cool as it dove under Natalia’s skin. She went off to catch up with all her charting before the technician brought the cells.
Cristina and Gail, sat like schoolchildren on the window seat, in their billowing yellow gowns, adjusting their masks when their eyeglasses steamed up. Cristina’s feet didn’t touch the floor. The zip-zip of their arms and legs were continuous as Natalia drifted in and out of sleep.
“She’s so darling in that color,” Cristina said, at one point, before the cells had gone in.
“I don’t think there’s a color she can’t wear, honestly,” Gail said. “All three of them.”
And then someone new had come in, a chubby man in his forties with bleach-blonde hair. “Hey Natalia,” he said, “I’m here with your cells. Are you ready?”
Natalia nodded yes, struggled to sit up.
“You relax,” Caleb said, and beneath her, the bed sat her up. “You got a little cat nap in, that’s good. It’s all good.” He went off to a corner, where a metal water bath was humming, and pulled out a slender packet the size of a zip-lock bag. He dried it off expertly and cleaned the ports with alcohol.
“Alright,” Caleb announced. “And what’s your full name, dear?”
Paige held up her phone. Sara, Will, Gail, Cristina, Dr. Lonergan, Maren, and outside the door, Jerome, looked at her as if she were in a school play. “Natalia Gail Garces,” she answered.
Caleb referred to the bag of cells. “Right. And your date of birth?”
“December 27th, 2002.”
“We’re in business, folks,” he said, and with a few deft movements, the cells hung from the IV pole and a neat red line worked its way down to Natalia’s line. She watched it inch in, staining the clear tubing bright red. She picked up the line and stared at it.
“Wait, where’s Izzy?” Natalia said, scanning the room.
“I’m right here,” came a voice, from inside the bathroom. Izzy’s voice echoed off the tiles.
“Come here,” Natalia said, holding the tubing up. “Look, it’s you.”
With a look of exasperation, Izzy crept into the line of Paige’s video. She crept up to the bed, blocking the harsh cool light. Natalia handed her the line. “Hold out your hand,” she said.
Izzy held out her palms as Natalia laid it across.
“It’s a miracle,” said one of the grandmas, from behind Izzy.
“How long do I have to stand here,” Izzy whispered.
Cristina stood up. “Should we pray?” And everyone dropped their heads as she blessed the cells for several minutes. As she went on, Paige crept closer with the camera until she was next to the bed.
Izzy glanced peripherally at Natalia, which made Natalia laugh, which made Paige snort, which made Cristina lose her train of thought.
“And all God’s children said ‘Amen,’” said Jerome, loudly, before Cristina could finish. Paige, Izzy, and Natalia dissolved into laughter.
“Yes,” Cristina said, taking her seat with exaggerated dignity, “Amen.”
Izzy and Natalia posed for Paige’s photos, and then Gwen asked everyone to let Natalia rest, and she was glad to lie flat again and close her eyes. It was done. She’d done everything they’d asked her to do. The rest was in God’s hands.
Later that night, when everyone had gone home, Natalia woke up to find Sara resting on the loveseat.
“Can you help me get up?” Natalia asked, nodding to the bathroom. When she was finished and back in bed, Sara promised to find something good for her to eat. As she left, Sara moved the tray table over the bed.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, walking off.
On the table lay the envelope.
Natalia undid the clasp, taking out a large pencil sketch drawn on thick, soft paper. Two bags of blood slouched against a wall, like street toughs, each wearing a party hat. Birthday candles dripped wax onto slouching bags. “Happy Rebirthday—CT” was scribbled in a corner.
Natalia touched the surface of the paper. The thick pencil lead left a mark on her fingers. She pressed out the crease and hung it up by the bed. The streets were quiet now. Orange light crept into the blue shadows at the window.
Her socials had quieted, too. She opened Chase’s text chain and searched the GIF options for “thank you,” and then “thanks a million,” settling for a bunch of animated bananas dancing beneath a flashing marquee: THANKS A BUNCH!
Then she rested her eyes again. Periodically she’d wake up and check the dancing bananas, until she saw that he’d opened the message.