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It was as if almost nothing remained of her any longer, in a physical sense that is, although she was hardly into her early seventies.
    Swallowing hard, I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter, Grandmother. Whatever it is, it is.”
    “No dear,” she replied. A frown came to her once pink-skin, now made gray and dull by the illness which ate away at her from the inside out. She’d battled cancer six times successfully during the past twenty odd years but recently we’d learned it had returned with a vengeance. Shaking her head, she continued, “I know it’s got to be at least half a million by now. Why are you keeping it from me?”
    Actually it was $568,778, give or take a few dollars. But, it could have been ten million for all I cared. She’d lost her insurance coverage and as a result she’d been refused treatment a few years ago, since she lacked the ability to pay. If there was any chance of keeping her alive, I didn’t care how much it cost, I was willing to pay it.
    But, she did care. And she was stubborn, not to mention proud.
    “I don’t want to do anymore treatment,” she sighed, as her head, now thinly covered with fine, white hair, collapsed back into the pillow. “I’m tired, Fiona, and you’re going to go broke. You’ve already used all the money from your parents. That was supposed to be for you, your education and your future. This can’t continue.”
    “Grandmother, please…” I begged. I’d kept my tears from her as I best I could over the years. But now, with each day that passed, it grew more difficult to mask my grief. “Don’t say that. You’re all I have left. If I lose you, there’ll be no one. And I’m not going to go broke. I should hear about the job any day now. If I don’t get that one, I’ll find another. Whatever it takes. I'm not giving up, and you can’t either.”
    My hand fell away from her arm. I tugged at the sleeves of my flannel nightshirt, squeezing them into the palms of my hands.
    Exhaustion overwhelmed her once again and my grandmother closed her eyes. It was about time for breakfast, and before I’d come in to check on her, I’d started a pot of coffee. The telltale aroma found its way to my nose and as it did, I glanced around the room to make sure things were as they should be.
    Caring for a woman in her condition was almost like having another full-time job. Although she was able to get around with a walker, she spent most of her time in bed, resting.
    I barely managed as it was, and I worried that if she were to get any worse, I’d have to hire a live-in nurse which, of course, I couldn’t afford. The good news was I had few days off while I waited to hear back on my interview from Hawkins Biotech, so for now anyway, I could take care of her myself.
    I sighed a little as my eyes traveled back to her.
    “Grandmother,” I began. “I’ll be right back. Did you take your medication?”
    She nodded but didn’t speak.
    A small smile came to my lips. She could be sneaky about it sometimes.
    “Okay, I don’t need to check, do I?”
    “No, dear.”
    Just in case, I paused for moment and studied her face for signs of deception. Not seeing any, I nodded.
    “All right.”
    With that, I turned and walked out of the room. Our apartment was small but big enough for the two of us. I preferred to think of it as cozy. And anyway, it was all I could afford. My socks slid on the linoleum a bit as I exited my grandmother’s bedroom and walked towards the kitchen. But no sooner had I done so than my mobile phone started to ring. I continued to the kitchen, increasing the pace of my steps in anticipation.
    “Please let that be them…” I muttered, as I battled a burgeoning swarm of butterflies in my stomach.
    A moment or so later, I entered the kitchen and  focused my attention on the chiming, buzzing device. Grabbing it, I noticed it was the number Mr. Doyle had given to me after the interview.
    “Just once,” I whispered before