The Moment Before Oblivion
“I don’t see it,” said Lyra, looking over the barrel of her colt.
“Mom, it’s right…” Bon Mot reached a hoof to his barrel, feeling around below his ribs. “Here.”
Lyra leaned in. “Still don’t see it. Here, move your hoof.” When he did, Lyra reached hers up, feeling around the spot he indicated. “Oh. Yeah. There it is.” She twiddled the little nodule gently. “Weird. That doesn’t hurt?”
“Nope. I only noticed it because… uhh…”
“Because you and Pear Butter were getting to know each other better? I could tell.”
His ears lay flat.
“Don’t worry, Mottles.” She ruffled his mane. “It’s only natural for colts and fillies of your age to act like that. Just don’t tell Mom Bon.”
“You want me to hide it?”
“No, silly. Let me do the talking.”
He leaned in, rubbing his head against her neck. “Thanks, Mom ‘Ra.” He pulled back and gestured at his barrel. “What do you think that is?”
“Heck if I know. My body does all kinds of weird things I don’t understand. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
———
“Melanocytomas are normally benign, but we’ll keep an eye on it anyway. Ponies with a grey coat tend to get them when they’re older. If any of them get too big or uncomfortable, we can remove them. It’s a pretty standard spell.” He slid a pamphlet across his desk. “Do you know if you have a family history of melanomas?”
Lyra shook her head. She looked at Bon Bon, who just stared into the distance. “Bonnie?”
Bon Bon’s voice was as distant as her gaze. “My grandmother had melanoma. I always thought she looked gross when I was a foal. I… I’m sorry, Lyra.” She wiped at her eyes. “I need to get some air.”
Lyra moved to stand, mouth open, but the words died. She looked back to the doctor.
“Here,” he said, handing Lyra several pamphlets. “Bon Mot will be fine. Go be with your wife.”
———
“It’s necromantic fasciitis. The spell entered his body through a cut on his barrel. We might be able to save his life, but we need to operate immediately.”
“Operate?”
“There’s no known counterspell. The only way to excise the necromancy is to remove the tissue it’s bound to. And we need to do it before it spreads.” He held out a clipboard and quill.
“What’s this?”
“We need your consent. He’s been anaesthetized to control the pain.”
Lyra turned to Bon Bon, but Bonnie just stared silently at the paper. Lyra took the quill and signed. “Do whatever you need to, Doctor. Save his life.” She turned to Bon Bon, embracing her. “It’s okay to cry, Bonnie.” Tears welled in her own eyes. “You don’t always need to be the strong one.” She stroked Bon Bon’s mane, and the sobbing began.
“He’s all we have, Lyra.”
We have each other, she wanted to say. Bon Bon might take that the wrong way. “He’ll be fine. The doctors know what they’re doing.”
The world moved around them while they stood there. Nurses came and went. Patients and visitors passed through. Bon Bon quieted, but still they stood there until her stomach growled.
“Come on,” said Lyra, tugging gently. “Let’s get you some food.”
“I want to wait here in case they come back for us.”
“Alright. We’ll wait, but let’s sit down.”
Bon Bon nodded and let Lyra lead her to the benches lining the room. They sat there for what seemed a lifetime.
“Lyra?”
“I know. Waiting is the hardest.”
“Could you go ask the nurses what’s going on?”
Lyra nodded, stood, and walked to the nurses station, waiting there for someone to acknowledge her. To acknowledge her presence. Her frustration. Her needs. “Hey. I need some help here.”
“We’ll be with you in a minute, ma’am.” The nurse who spoke didn’t look up, focusing instead on filling out her paperwork.
Lyra turned to smile at Bon Bon. I’m here. We’ve got this. But her wife stared unseeing down the hall to the doors where Bon Mot had disappeared. The smile faded before it began.
The doors burst open as staff passed through, and Lyra’s thoughts drifted.
Bon Bon burst into the studio. “Lyra, something’s wrong!”
She almost dropped the lyre. “Don’t startle me like that.” Closing her composition book, Lyra turned towards the door. “What—”
She dropped the lyre, springing from the chair at the sight of her wife and child.
The nurse cleared her throat and Lyra’s thoughts.
“Hm? Oh, sorry,” she said, noticing she’d been absently tapping her hoof on the desk.
Finishing her paperwork, the nurse leaned over, speaking with another, before pointing at Lyra. Finally, she stood and approached. “You’re Bon Mot’s mother?”
Lyra nodded.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to continue waiting. Is there anything we can get for you? Food? A blanket?”
Lyra shook her head. “I just want to know what’s going on.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t tell you anything. I’ll let you know as soon as that changes.”
Lyra sighed. “Thanks.” She turned, then turned back. “Wait. Bon Bon needs some food. You said you can bring us some?”
The nurse nodded. “I’ll send someone by.”
“Thanks. Really. We’re over here.” Lyra gestured to where Bon Bon sat, and moved to join her after the nurse nodded. Dropping down to the cushioned seat, Lyra rested her head on Bon Bon’s neck.
“No information then?”
Lyra shook her head. “But they’re going to bring you food.”
“I don’t know if I can eat.”
“You should try.”
“Maybe.” Bon Bon closed her eyes and tilted her head so they leaned on each other. “I just want this to be over so we can go home.”
“Mm.”
Lyra lifted an ear at the sound of footsteps. “Food?”
Bon Bon shook her head. The tension in her muscles shocked Lyra.
“What is it?” She sat up and looked. The nurse she’d spoken with approached. Beside her walked the doctor who’d had Lyra sign the consent form. His expression was… grim. “No.”
Bon Bon wrapped a hoof around hers.
“I’m sorry,” said the doctor.
“No.”
Bon Bon clutched her hoof tightly.
“He’s still alive, but not for long. The magical infection had already reached his heart by the time we operated. Operating any further would cause more harm than good. Would you like to see him before he goes?”
Lyra choked while trying to speak. She nodded instead. She moved to stand, but Bonnie clutched tighter. She looked at Bon Bon’s face—eyes red from crying, wide with fright, ears flicking. “Bonnie?”
Bon Bon lifted her eyes to Lyra’s. “I can’t. I can’t go in there. I can’t see him like that.”
“Bonnie, he’s dying. We need to be there with him. Come on.” She tugged gently, but Bon Bon shook her head.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
Lyra stared at her. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. She stroked Bon Bon’s cheek. “I need to go. I need to be there for him. I… I don’t understand why you won’t, but I need to go now.”
Bon Bon loosened her grip and looked away.
Lyra stared a moment, then turned and followed the doctor while the nurse stayed, speaking with Bon Bon. Through a set of swinging doors, around two corners, and into a hallway full of curtained rooms. The doctor parted one room’s curtain and motioned her inside. He stepped into the darkened room after her, closing the curtain behind him.
In the room’s bed, her son slept—hooked up to an IV and hospital machines. Another doctor stood in the room, introduced by the first. “This is our palliative care physician. I’ve got other patients to attend.” Stepping out, he paused, placing a hoof on her shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak, stopped, looked at the other doctor, and left.
“He’s still alive?” She couldn’t tell.
The doctor nodded. “There are spells keeping his heart and lungs pumping. His other organs are shutting down. We’ve got spells that could keep those working longer, but it’s a losing battle. At most, he has hours to live. The best thing for him now would be to let him go before the anaesthetic wears off. He won’t feel any pain that way.”
At that, Lyra choked out a little sob. Waiting until she could control her voice—at least a bit—she asked, “Can I touch him?”
The doctor nodded. “Try not to disturb the bedding.”
It covered him from the withers down. Lyra moved to the head of the bed and stroked Bon Mot’s mane. “Momma’s here for you, baby. Momma loves you.”
After a few moments, the doctor cleared his throat, waiting for Lyra’s attention before he spoke. “There’s a consent form on the table beside you for end-of-life care. If you sign it, we can ease his transition.” He waited a moment before continuing. “I’ll leave you alone to say your goodbyes. I’ll be back in ten minutes to check on you both.”
Lyra ignored him, focusing instead on her baby, her joy. “Why? I don’t understand.”
The melanocytes were never a problem. They’d gone in to the doctor several times to have them frozen off if they got too bothersome. Like his grandmother, he had a good chance of dying of melanoma… in his old age. This? It was completely unexpected. She’d never even heard of it before.
That afternoon, he’d had a slight fever and some swelling where the last cyst had been removed. Nothing serious. Or so I thought. I’m an idiot. I should have brought him in to see the doctor earlier. Maybe they could have saved him then. Is this my fault?
The swelling and fever had worsened that night, so they came to the hospital. She looked at the clock. Just an hour or two ago.
“Why? I love you so much. And so does your Mom Bon, but she was scared. Don’t think less of her. I’m scared too.”
She sat there for what felt like forever, but it seemed like only a moment when the doctor returned.
“His heart is failing, right?”
The doctor nodded.
“Can’t you just give him a transplant?”
“Like I said, it’s his lungs too, and his other organs will follow. This spell drains the life around the flesh it infects. Even if we could find a donor for all his organs, they wouldn’t add to his life. The infection would destroy them too.”
“What about the spells keeping him alive? Can’t we just keep doing that?”
“Not indefinitely, and not for all his organs. These are stopgap measures for trauma victims and surgical patients to keep them alive while we operate. They can’t replace the functionality of healthy organs.”
“I see.”
“If you sign that consent form, we can proceed.”
“You know what you’re asking me to do?”
“We could bring in another physician if you’d like another opinion.”
“And what would they say?”
“More or less the same as me.”
Lyra lifted the paper, trying but failing to read the print. She signed it and threw the clipboard at the doctor. “There.”
A dim flash erupted from the doctor’s horn. “It’s done.”
“That’s it?”
He nodded. “The spells keeping him alive will now wear off in a minute. He won’t last much longer than that, so say your last goodbyes. A grief counselor will be in to see you soon. My condolences, Ms Heartstrings.”
Hoof on his withers, she sat and waited.
His breathing slowed and stopped.
A nurse came in, fussing over something on the other side of the room.
Lyra just stared at her baby boy—at his corpse, rather. It wasn’t him anymore, just like the dakimakura of herself she’d ordered for Bon Bon wasn’t her. Just an imitation.
Another pony came in and seemed to be talking to her, but Lyra couldn’t hear the words. The pony left. Then she returned with Bon Bon.
The world kept losing focus. Was Bon Bon yelling at her?
The nurse snapped the lock on the bed wheels, and Lyra snapped at her. “You can’t take him! You can’t take my boy from me.”
Bon Bon turned Lyra’s head to face hers, and Lyra could finally hear her. “He’s gone, Lyra. Let them do their job.”
“What? Gone? He can’t be… can’t be gone. Not my boy.”
“Lyra, he’s gone.”
“Gone? What does that even mean?”
Bon Bon sobbed. “I don’t know, Lyra. I don’t know.”
