by Nicola Haken
“Sorry? What the hell for?”
“You’re coping so well with this. Since we got back you’ve been organising stuff, making calls, being calm. Whereas I feel like I’m dying—crap, wrong word. Fuck. Dammit I’m so bad at this. I feel like I’m letting you down and it’s only just beginning.”
With a sad smile, I stroked along the side of his face with the back of my hand. He pressed into my touch, his eyes meeting mine. “I don’t think there is a good way to deal with cancer, Seb. You’re doing just fine. You’re here. That’s all the support I need.”
“I’ll be here all the way. Every day. I promise. I’ve already spoken to work and I’ve got all five weeks of my paid holidays to use, and when I am working I’ll be in the warehouse so I’ll be close by at all times.”
“But you hate the warehouse.”
“I don’t hate the warehouse as much as I love you.” Curling his fingers around my wrist, he brought my hand from his cheek to his lips and kissed my palm. “You’ll get through this, Olli. We’ll get through it together.”
A couple of hours later there was only one last task left to do before we had to head back to the hospital, and it was the hardest one of all. I had to give Tyler my diagnosis.
I waited by the living room window for him to come home from school, my bag packed next to my feet. He arrived earlier than normal, most likely because he was running, and had probably ran all the way from the bus stop. His eyes were wide and hopeful when he bounded into the house, until his gaze landed on my holdall on the floor. His lips parted upon seeing it but he didn’t speak at first. He simply stared at my bag, and then at me, before eventually muttering, “It’s bad news, init?”
I took a few steps forward, my heart hurting already. “Yes. It’s leukaemia, like they thought.”
The edges of Tyler’s eyes reddened and he sniffed up through his nose, but he nodded firmly, not wavering, not breaking. “Is that for the hospital?” He nodded towards my bag.
“Yeah. They’re admitting me tonight. I start chemo tomorrow. You’re going to stay with Seb while I’m gone. Are you okay with that?”
“Sure. Course. Yeah.” He nodded between every word, never blinking, still sniffing. “If you need help, you know, with like, transplants or stuff like that, I’ll do it. I’ll give you stuff.”
“Oh, Tyler…” I smiled the most grateful smile I’d ever given, my chest bursting with love for this boy. “The chances of you being a match are incredibly slim, but you have no idea how much that means to me.”
“But…I’m your brother.”
“I discussed stem cell transplants with my doctor today, and even full siblings only have a twenty-five percent chance of being a match. We’re only half-brothers, which lowers the chances even more.”
“Oh.” He looked all kinds of deflated and it made my heart ache.
“Half-brother is a technicality,” I told him. “You’re my whole family, Tyler, and what you’ve just offered to do for me means more to me than you’ll ever know.”
He smiled a weak smile, nodding a little.
“Hopefully I won’t even need a transplant. In some cases the chemo alone is enough to fight this thing. We’ve caught it early. That’s good.” I might not have if it hadn’t been for my mum, if I hadn’t recognised the signs and nagged my GP to keep looking. Who knew how many people ignored their symptoms, out of fear, or innocent ignorance, until it had progressed too far. It didn’t bear thinking about.
For a few long seconds we stood in silence, a few inches apart. I was just about to break it when Tyler’s body crashed into mine, making me stumble as he threw his arms around my waist and buried his head in my chest. “Promise me you’ll get better, Olli. Please.”
My eyes stung as a sudden onset of tears bubbled on the surface, clouding my vision. His words wrapped around my heart, squeezing, crushing it. “I’m gonna try my best, Ty. I promise you I’ll try my bloody best.”
I hadn’t expected Tyler to ask to join us on the way back to Saint Mary’s but he did and I wouldn’t have said no. I wanted him to know he was free to be as involved in this battle as he felt comfortable with, and I told him as much on the way there. I said, providing he didn’t miss school or fall behind on homework, he could visit the ward with Seb every day, but I also told him I’d understand if he needed some time and space.
His response to my little speech was to tell me to shut my face and stop being stupid, before announcing the only thing that could keep him away would be a bout of the Ebola virus…which seemed unlikely, and a tad dramatic.
The walk to Ward Nine seemed to take forever once Seb eventually found somewhere to park, and I was exhausted and breathless by the time we reached it, probably because my body had aged forty years over the last few weeks.
“Do you need to stop?” Seb’s hand landed on my shoulder, halting my steps as we neared the double doors leading to the ward. “Rest for a minute?”
“No.” Walking forward, I pushed on, despite the burn in my calves and the ache in my spine. “I just want to get there.”
I didn’t miss the worried glance Tyler gave Seb but neither of them questioned my decision and continued walking alongside me. Through the doors, we were greeted by nurses with warm smiles and bright voices who knew who I was before I’d introduced myself.
“I’m Janie,” one of them said, dressed in a navy tunic and matching pants. “I’m clocking off soon but I’ll be administering your chemo tomorrow. Has the process been explained to you?”
“Yes.” A lump formed in my throat as I nodded. Daunorubicin was some pretty serious stuff with a list of possible side effects and complications as long as my arm, which is why a nurse would need to monitor me the entire time. But, if it would kick this cancer’s arse, bring it on. “Am I allowed visitors while I’m having it?” I pointed to Seb with my thumb. “I forgot to ask that earlier.” I was sure I’d forgotten most of my questions, in fact.
“Of course, as long as they’re healthy. No colds or bugs allowed I’m afraid.”
“I’m the picture of good health,” Seb announced, pushing out his chest. “But I’ll start taking a multivitamin to be sure.”
Chuckling, I shook my head and followed Janie’s lead into the room where I presumed my bed was.
“Welcome home,” she said, gesturing towards the empty bed by the window. It was the only vacant one out of six, and as I made my way towards it the other five men nodded and smiled in my direction. A couple were older – sixty plus, two were maybe my age, and the lad in the bed next to mine couldn’t have been older than twenty.
Jesus. That didn’t seem fair. None of this was fair.
Janie turned to Tyler as I sat down on the edge of the bed, flipping her gaze between him and my wrist as she clipped on my ID bracelet. “And who might you be, young man?”
“I’m Olli’s brother.”
“Got a name, Olli’s brother?”
“Tyler.”
“Well, Tyler, you can start unpacking your brother’s things into this cupboard here.” She cocked her head towards the wooden cupboard next to my bed and Tyler nodded enthusiastically, grabbing my bag from Seb’s hands.
I smiled at Janie, knowing why she’d asked him. She’d made him feel useful. I remembered how important that was from all the times I’d felt so helpless watching our mum go through this very same thing.
“So, do you prefer Olli or Oliver?”
“Either, or.” I shrugged. “Call me whatever you like.”
“In that case I vote Princess Frillyknickers,” Seb piped up, smirking.
Janie raised an eyebrow at Seb as she walked to the end of my bed and unhooked my chart from the metal rail. “Ah, we have a troublemaker here I see.”
“I can only apologise in advance,” I said.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got one myself. I can’t take my husband anywhere either.”
Seb pouted like a child, folding his arms across his chest. “I feel bullied.”
“Oh I don�
�t need to bully,” Janie said. “I’ll simply throw you off my ward if you cross the line.”
“Burn!” Tyler cut in, his face thoroughly amused.
After scribbling on my chart, Janie hung it back on the rail of my bed. “Right, boys, I’m giving you five minutes to say your goodbyes. I need to take Oliver’s obs and then he needs to get some rest. He has a big day tomorrow.”
Sighing, Seb nodded, and Janie walked away. The nerves were kicking in already. I didn’t want to stay here alone but, of course, I knew I had to. It would just feel more…real…once Seb and Ty had left. On my own, I’d have nothing to do but think…and worry.
“Draw the curtain,” I asked Seb, reaching into the cupboard for my pyjamas. Changing into them felt strange. I hadn’t worn pyjamas since I was a child, and we had to nip out this afternoon to buy some especially for the occasion, along with a dressing gown and a better pair of slippers than the ones Seb had picked up from the gift shop.
Once changed, I climbed into bed and pulled the flimsy cover up over my body.
“I’ll buy you some credit for the TV on my way out,” Seb said, pointing to the foldout personal TV attached to the wall. It was a small monitor and phone system fixed to a long metal arm that could be pulled right around to my bed. “I’ll text you the code you’ll need to activate it.”
“Thanks.”
“And I’ll be back in the morning. Chemo’s at eleven, right?”
“Right.”
“Do you need anything bringing?”
“No, I’m good.” I smiled, but I couldn’t get it to reach my eyes. I didn’t want him to leave…
Bending, he kissed my lips, softly, sweetly, absorbing some of the fear in my heart. “I love you,” he whispered into my mouth.
“Love you, too.” I missed him already.
When he backed away, Tyler stepped forward. He hovered awkwardly with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, but then he leaned down and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “Nighty nighty, Olli.”
For just a second, it felt like my heart had stopped in my chest. He hadn’t uttered those words in God knew how many years. My arms around his back, I squeezed him a little tighter, wishing I never had to let him go. “Pyjamas pyjamas.”
* * *
I travelled back in time when I walked into the treatment ward the next day. The hospital had been refurbished since I used to come here with my mum, but the set-up remained the same. The room was filled with reclining chairs, every single one occupied by a fellow patient, attached to a drip they prayed would save their life. The walls were painted a hopeful yellow, the windows were wide, overlooking the large, beautifully manicured gardens outside, and the nurses wore bright and positive smiles.
“First time?”
I turned to the voice as I sat down in the chair Janie had pointed me to when I arrived.
“You look terrified.”
“It is, and…I am a little.”
“I’m Tracy.” She proffered her hand and I shook it, trying not to stare at the fine layer of fuzzy hair on her almost-bald head because that would’ve made me an arsehole. It made me sad for her, and sad for me, because I knew what was likely coming.
“Oliver.”
“So, what are you in for?” She had a chirpy voice, a bright spirit, and I liked her already. She seemed older than me by a handful of years and had a warm smile, motherly almost.
“Ah, I’ve forgotten the fancy drug names.” I clicked my tongue as I tried to recall the long words.
“I meant what kind of cancer do you have?”
“Oh.” Duh. “Acute Myeloid Leukaemia. You?”
“Pancreatic. Stage three. I had surgery three months ago but they couldn’t get it all. Hopefully, this will. It’s kinda my last shot.”
Wow. Umm... I nodded and smiled because that’s all I had to offer. I hoped it worked for her, too. I hoped it worked for all of us in here, but then I scanned the large room and felt an intense stab of sadness in my gut at the thought we might not all make it through this. Eventually, one by one, our chairs would become home to new people, more victims of this cruel disease, and there was no way of knowing, right now, if when that happened we’d all be sat at home with our families…or buried under ground.
Seeing Janie approach, I literally shook the morbid thoughts from my head. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t think negatively and I had no intention of going down without a fight, so I put my little blip down to pre-chemo nerves.
“Ready to get started?” Janie handed me a small plastic cup that rattled when I took it.
No. “Sure.” Popping the anti-sickness tablet, which I’d forgotten the proper name of already, but was sure I’d become an expert on this stuff soon enough, I swallowed it down with a sip of water from the glass on the table next to my chair.
“Okay.” She plucked a pair of gloves from the yellow tray she’d set down on my table and snapped them onto her hands. “Let’s try the other arm this time.”
I was woken up early this morning to have my blood taken, which would be part of my daily routine from now on. I always thought I had pretty good veins until then, but apparently they liked to play hide and seek for Janie, which I guessed could be a problem given how much stuff they were planning to pump in and out of them over the coming months.
“Hmm.” Tapping the crook of my elbow, she screwed her face up in concentration. “Drop your arm a little lower for me.”
I did as she asked, keeping my fist clenched.
“Gotcha! I think you’d probably benefit from a PICC line. If you’re comfortable with that, I can pop you one in later. Do you know what one is?”
“A tube in my arm that goes into my chest? I read about it during a Google marathon.” My cheeks scrunched up as she fed the cannula into my vein. I’d never pegged myself for a wimp, but that bugger stung.
“I’m banning you from Google.” She pursed her eyebrows in disapproval. “If you want information I’ll recommend some reputable websites for you, but you’re right about the PICC. I’ll give you a local anaesthetic in your arm so you won’t feel any discomfort, and we can leave it in through the course of your treatment. No more treating your arms like pin cushions every morning.”
“Well, I like that idea…” My voice faded and my smile grew when I saw Seb walking down the corridor, past the room, and then backtracking.
He pointed in my direction as soon as he saw me. “There you are.” He sounded flustered and a little out of breath. “I assumed you’d be on the same floor as last night, and don’t even get me started on that godforsaken car park. I think I’m parked on a residential street just outside bleedin’ Wales right now.”
I smirked at the exaggeration.
“How’s it going?” He bent down and kissed my forehead. “You cured yet?”
With a snort, I shook my head. “We haven’t started yet. Take a seat. It’ll take a couple of hours.” The daunorubicin needed to be infused rapidly, within twenty minutes. Any longer and it could start damaging my organs. That’s how intense this stuff was. The cytarabine, however, would take longer.
Seb placed the carrier bag he held on the table next to me, shrugged out of his jacket and hooked it over the back of a large padded chair before sitting down. Then, he delved into the plastic bag and started taking things out. “Ribena. Penguins – which are more for me, but I’ll share because I have a kind heart. Men’s Health Magazine. Marie Claire. Closer. Woman’s Own.”
“Woman’s Own?”
He shrugged. “There’s a story in there about a woman who fell in love with her Dyson. I couldn’t resist.”
“I read that yesterday,” Tracy, next to me, joined in. “My daughter brought it in for me. She sleeps with it in her bed and everything.”
Seb’s eyes widened. “Whatever tickles her pickle I s’pose. I’m gonna read that one first.”
It was easy, natural even, to assume this ward would be depressing. Yet, it couldn’t have been further from that. The atmosphere
in here was relaxed. Positive. Uplifting, almost. I’d yet to meet someone who wasn’t smiling. Hopeful. Determined. It was only day one, but so far it wasn’t the terrifying experience I’d been expecting.
That would come later…
Having chemotherapy is painless. Whilst I was actually receiving it I felt none of the side effects I’d been warned about. No sickness, no aches, no fever. It was, in fact, like getting together with friends for a little rest and a chinwag and I started to feel a little cocky. I thought I had this. I told myself I was stronger than those drugs.
Fuck you. Who’s the boss now, eh?
Not me, apparently. Turned out they were simply toying with me, lulling me into a false sense of security. It was several hours later when they wiped the floor with my arrogance. My recollection is a tad hazy but the main thing I remember is being really bloody cold, yet Janie trying to force ice packs onto my head and along my breastbone. At one point Seb tried to take my blanket, and I distinctly recall snatching it back and telling him to fuck off.
I may have been a little delirious because of the fever…although I refused to believe it at the time.
They managed to bring my temperature down eventually but it shot back up to forty-one degrees during the night which, according to the nurse in charge of me that night, was serious, and I spent the next few hours shivering, sweating, sucking on ice pops and not knowing where the hell I was half the time.
The fight had well and truly begun.
* * *
One more session to go until this cycle was over and I looked forward to it with every fibre of my being. I’d thought I knew the meaning of exhaustion before I started treatment, that my body felt ninety years old. Turned out, I was just a little tired, then. I don’t think I’d actually ever been truly exhausted before. Exhaustion is physically painful. Excruciating. Mentally draining. Exhaustion feels like your bones are breaking simply climbing out of bed.
I shouldn’t have been surprised, really. I mean, my body was being pumped full of powerful poisons. They were attacking my body, destroying it…I just had to be strong enough to survive, fight back once they’d done their job. I had to look at the bigger picture, see the end goal. A few months living, existing, like this was worth it in return for the long future I dreamt about in my hospital bed every night.