Chapter 7
Meanwhile, Gwen was fighting her own critical battle for survival.
For ten straight days in the hospital, she received continuous intravenous fluids, nutritional supplements, and specialized care. I stayed right by her bedside every single day, though she would still flinch nervously whenever a nurse gently touched her arm.
The emotional trauma ran deep, as she had been conditioned to ask for permission just to eat food, sleep, or use a telephone.
One quiet night, she looked up at me with tearful eyes.
“Are you truly not angry with me for keeping my illness a secret from you for so long?” she asked softly.
A deep sense of shame washed over me.
“I am the one who should be begging for your forgiveness,” I replied softly while holding her hand. “I left you alone for years and foolishly accepted comfortable lies because it was easier for me to believe everything was fine back home.”
“Your mother told me that if I called you, you would quit your job in Alaska and it would be entirely my fault if the house was lost,” Gwen confessed.
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“No house on earth is worth more than your life,” I assured her gently.
Once her body was sufficiently stabilized, the medical team performed surgery to remove the tumor and test her lymph nodes. The anxious days spent waiting in hospital hallways were terrifying, but I was no longer helpless or distant.
