Chapter 18: Someone Might Cover This

The next morning.

Joy helped her grandfather through admission and walked him to the ward.

Walter eyed the hospital band on his wrist, brow furrowed, pulling back a step.

"Why do I need to be admitted for this? Isn't a checkup just blood work and an X-ray?"

"Grandpa." Joy turned with a bright smile. "It's the premium package from work full workup, top to bottom."

"The doctor said some of the tests need observation time. Think of it like a hotel stay."

She talked him through every step, coaxed him up and down the halls, floor by floor.

Blood work. CT scan. MRI.

He went along with all of it, obedient as a lamb.

By midday, worn out from the fussing and the discomfort, Walter finally drifted off in his hospital bed.

Joy watched his face settle into peaceful sleep, tucked the blanket over him, and slipped out toward the doctor's office.

"Doctor are the results in?" Her voice shook.

He looked up, adjusted his glasses, expression grave.

"It's confirmed. Diffuse large B-cell lymphoma. An aggressive form of non-Hodgkin lymphoma."

The room went dark at the edges.

Joy's grip on the chair back went white-knuckled, the only thing keeping her upright.

No miracle. Not this time either.

She dug her nails into her palm, forcing calm into her voice. "Is it treatable?"

"Treatable, yes. But the outlook isn't great." He pulled up the data on his screen and walked her through the standard options.

"Tell me about CAR-T therapy."

"Since it came onto the market, CAR-T's been genuinely life-changing for blood cancer patients. One infusion of modified T-cells, and in the best cases, you get long-term remission sometimes a full cure."

He paused, tone heavier now.

"It's not covered by insurance, though. One dose alone runs one point two million. Add pre-treatment prep, post-infusion monitoring, hospitalization realistically you're looking at one point five million total."

The number landed like a blow to the spine.

"Talk it over with your family."

Joy didn't remember leaving the office.

Her mind had gone to static, a dead channel, nothing but grey noise and a high, piercing ringing.

She walked back like she was moving through water, and before she even reached the door, she heard shouting from inside.

"I want to be discharged! No more treatment! Let me go!"

She rushed in.

Walter was fighting to get out of bed, the IV line yanked sideways, blood smeared across the back of his hand.

"Grandpa stop, don't move!" She caught him, held him down.

His eyes filled the moment he saw her.

He pointed a shaking finger at her, voice hoarse. "Joy. You lied to me. This was never a checkup."

Her heart lurched. She forced a smile anyway.

"What are you talking about it's just a routine screening"

"You're lying to me again!"

He jabbed a finger at the woman in the next bed, who ducked her head, embarrassed.

"They told me! This is the oncology ward! Everyone in here has cancer!"

Tears streaked down his face, helpless as a child's. "Do I have cancer?"

Joy's own tears rose, and she fought them back with everything she had.

"No Grandpa, it's not that serious"

"No cancer doesn't put you in this ward..." Walter sank onto the edge of the bed, looking like he'd aged a decade in a single breath.

He stared down at his cracked, weathered hands, silent for a long moment.

When he lifted his head, his eyes had hardened into something resolved and grieving all at once.

"Joy. Take me home."

"Whatever this is it's out of our hands. I've lived long enough. I won't be a burden just to buy a few more years."

"Grandpa" The tears finally broke free. "The doctor said it's early stage. Very treatable."

"Don't lie to me! Cancer means selling the house, selling everything!" Walter's voice cracked, eyes red, then softened into pleading. "Joy, listen to me. Let's check out. I'll make you shredded chicken, we'll go home, all right?"

"Grandpa, I'm not lying. Insurance covers most of it. We're only looking at a few thousand out of pocket."

Sweat beaded at Joy's temple. She shot a desperate look at the woman in the next bed, silently begging for backup.

"Ma'am tell him, right?"

The woman caught on instantly, raising her voice.

"Your granddaughter's telling the truth. Insurance covers so much more now. Drugs that used to run tens of thousands a bottle are covered these days."

"You seen that movie the one about the cancer drugs? Government's cracked down on pricing. It's nothing like it used to be."

Walter's clouded eyes darted between them, still not quite convinced.

"Really?" The woman slapped her own knee for emphasis. "My husband's got the same thing."

Still, his frown didn't fully ease.

Joy knew stubbornness ran deep in him one stranger's word wouldn't be enough.

She sent the nurse to find the attending physician.

The doctor, clearly no stranger to this exact scene, spoke gently but firmly.

"Mr. Bennett, your granddaughter's right. We caught this early, and treatment protocols are well established. Insurance handles the bulk of the cost your share will be minimal."

"Your only job right now is to relax and let us do our work. Don't worry about the money."

The white coat's authority finally cracked through. Walter's shoulders eased.

"Well then... well then..." he murmured to himself. "As long as I'm not a burden to Joy, I'll do the treatment. I want to be around when she gets married. When she has kids."

"Mm" Joy nodded frantically, tears finally spilling.

She didn't leave his side for a second after that, not until Zoe and Derek arrived.

"Zoe take her to get some food, some air," Derek said.

Zoe nodded and pulled Joy out of the room.

The hallway buzzed with people, every face carrying the same tight worry.

They found a quiet corner by the stairwell. "What did the doctor say? Is there a plan?"

Joy stared at the grout lines in the floor tile, voice barely holding together.

"He gave me two options."

"One's standard chemo and radiation. Six to eight rounds of chemotherapy, then possibly twenty-five rounds of radiation on top of that..."

Her voice caught, eyes going red.

"It's brutal. At his age"

Zoe pulled her into a hug. "Is there anything else?"

"There is." Joy sniffed, looked up, a flicker of hope crossing her face before it collapsed right back into despair.

"CAR-T therapy. No repeated rounds of chemo, no drawn-out suffering just cell collection and reinfusion. Much easier on an older body. Higher success rate too."

"Then that's it! Whatever keeps him comfortable" Zoe said, urgent.

"One point five million dollars. Out of pocket."

The number hung in the stairwell, echoing.

Zoe went silent.

Joy bit down on her lip hard enough to taste blood, tears running freely now.

"One dose alone is one point two million. With hospitalization, monitoring we need at least one point five."

She stared down at her own empty hands, voice shaking with something between fury and helplessness.

"Zoe, I hate this so much. There's a cure right there. A way to save him from all of it"

"ugh"

Acid surged up her throat without warning.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, doubled over the trash can in the stairwell, and retched hard.

Tears and everything else streamed freely, her whole body convulsing with it.

"Joy!" Zoe jumped, rubbing her back frantically. "You're still you're still pregnant"

Joy went still.

She lowered her eyes, pressed both hands flat against her stomach, voice coming out rough and hollow.

"Maybe... someone can cover this after all.”