Chapter 5 - The Glass Partition
Three days after the court order, Keely was moved into the hospital's bone marrow transplant isolation unit. The room was equipped with positive air pressure systems, heavy HEPA filtration, and double-sealed glass walls designed to protect patients whose immune systems were about to be systematically wiped out by high-dose conditioning chemotherapy.
Mara spent her days inside the room, clad in sterile gowns, gloves, and masks. Keely’s hair began to fall out in soft clumps on her pillow by the fourth day of chemotherapy. Mara gently brushed it away, saving the longest strands in a small velvet pouch at Keely’s request. Despite the nauseating side effects of the conditioning regimen, Keely kept her laptop open on her tray table, reviewing her high school physics assignments whenever her fever broke.
"Mom," Keely whispered late one evening, her voice raspy from mucosal inflammation. "Is Ronan scared?"
Mara paused, adjusting the IV line feeding anti-nausea medication into Keely's central venous catheter. "He's very brave, sweetie. Bree is with him down on the third floor. She’s making sure he understands everything the doctors are doing."
"I don't want him to be hurt because of me," Keely said, looking toward the glass window facing the corridor. "He’s just a little boy. He shouldn't have to bear the weight of our family's mess."
"He isn't bearing the mess, Keely," Mara said softly, leaning over to kiss her daughter’s forehead through her surgical mask. "He's giving you a gift. And he wants to do it."
The next morning, the glass partition became the bridge between two worlds. Bree walked down the hallway holding Ronan's hand. The young boy was wearing blue hospital pajamas and slippers, carrying a bright yellow poster board he had drawn on all morning. He walked right up to the double-pane glass of Keely’s room and pressed the sign against the surface.
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In crude, bold red and green markers, Ronan had drawn a picture of a rocket ship blasting past a grey storm cloud, with the words: POWER UP, KEELY! MY CELLS ARE READY TO FLY.
Inside the sterile room, Keely burst into tears—the first tears she had shed since her diagnosis. She lifted her hand and pressed her palm against the glass, right where Ronan’s smaller hand rested on the outside. Ronan smiled back, waving his free hand enthusiastically before Bree gently wrapped an arm around his shoulder, guiding him toward the surgical prep unit for his marrow extraction.
