Stuffed Rabbit
In the cold waiting room of her oncologist’s office, Fiona sat anxiously. Her right leg bounced up and down rapidly as she held her stuffed rabbit close to her chest. She stroked it’s worn paw as she always did when she was nervous. Her mind raced with all the possibilities. Would she finally be in remission or would it be another round of chemo? What if it had actually spread?
Dr. Pembroke jammed his hand in his pocket, feeling for the small top he’d had since boyhood. As he reviewed Fiona’s scans, he spun the top repeatedly on the desk. He was desperate for a clear scan. What he saw filled him with tears.
Fiona’s mother, April, looked at her young daughter. Noted her shaved head, her blue flower print headscarf, and the rabbit. Her little stuffed rabbit April gave Fiona when she was born. Though only fifteen, Fiona had been through so much in the last three years. More than most adults go through in a lifetime. As any mother would, April prayed silently for her daughter to be free. Free of cancer, free of worry, free to be a teen.
Fiona and April’s heads shot up at the sound of Dr. Pembroke’s nurse, Annie, calling them back to the exam room. Annie gave them both a sympathetic smile and led them to where Dr. Pembroke was waiting, brimming with tears.
“You’re in remission.” He choked out, as a single tear escaped.
Fiona and April broke into sobs as Anna hugged them both. This moment was hard-won and improbable, yet Fiona had triumphed. She squeezed her stuffed rabbit as tightly as she squeezed her eyes shut, silently thanking God for the results. April hugged Dr. Pembroke and promised to take Fiona out to celebrate. Three long years and it was finally over. They could breathe again.