by Faye Byrd
I lick my parched lips. “I’m scared for my baby.”
His eyes bore into me. “Whatever Cam has to face, he faces it with all of us beside him, every step of the way. He’ll never be alone. And when it’s over, he’ll be a normal, happy healthy boy.”
“You’re right,” I agree, closing my eyes for a moment. When I reopen them, I’m determined to be strong for my son. “If he can endure it, I can surely hear about it.”
“You’re ready to hear the rest, then?” Trystan asks.
I nod. “As I’ll ever be.”
He takes my hand again, and we both face Dr. Sen. “We’re ready. Tell us.”
“As soon as we’ve found a donor and all proper testing has been done, we will schedule an admission date for the procedure. He will spend nine days prior to the transplant in the hospital. During the first seven, he will be receiving a conditioning regimen. It will consist of two drugs on alternating days. These drugs will destroy his defective marrow and weaken his immune system.”
At my gasp, Dr. Sen pauses. “You’re going to kill his immune system?”
David sighs, drawing my attention. “In order for the new stem cells to do their job, they have to replace his old ones. We also have to prevent his immune system from attacking the new cells. The chemotherapy will provide a blank slate for the new cells to take over.”
Trystan clears his throat. “How much pain is Cam going to be in? Chemo is some serious stuff. Are we … are we going to have to watch him suffer?”
David’s eyes soften. “There will be side effects, but there are also medications to help manage them. I won’t officially be a part of the transplant team, but I’m still his pediatrician. MUP’s Oncology department is one of the best, and they will take care of him.”
“Oncology?” I ask, my voice gravelly.
“Yes,” Kabir answers. “Even though Cameron doesn’t have cancer, our transplant team is top notch. We have specialized rooms with pressurized air to keep them free of contaminants. Infection will be a big risk, and our Oncology department is fully equipped to give him the best possible environment to reduce that risk.”
As I absorb his words, it really starts to dawn on me the seriousness of this procedure. To cure my precious baby, he’s going to be stripped bare only to be built back up again. But we have no choice. If we want him to live a full healthy life, this is the cost.
When neither Trystan nor I respond to that statement, Kabir continues his explanation. “Aside from myself and David, Cam will also have an Oncologist and her transplant team on his side. We’ll keep a vigilant eye on every step of this procedure and do everything in our power to make it as painless as possible for him. The conditioning regimen and its side effects will be the worst part. They can last well after the regimen is concluded.”
“The chemo you mean?” Trystan breaks in.
“Yes, the chemo,” Kabir answers. “After we’ve introduced the new cells, we’ll start him on medications to prevent infections and another drug that will hopefully prevent graft-versus-host disease. He’ll continue this for months after the procedure, maybe even up to a year.”
“Graft-versus-host disease?” Trystan stops him again, and for that, I’m very thankful. At this point, my mind has gone numb, imagining my baby suffering through this ordeal.
Dr. Sen leans forward, propping his forearms across his desk. “Yes, this will be our biggest fear. If he develops GVHD, as we refer to it, it will mean that his new immune system, via the donated cells, has started attacking his body. We’ll monitor him carefully for symptoms. With some cancers, a mild case is a good sign, but with aplastic anemia, that is not what we want to see. Our hope is that he shows no signs of GVHD during his recovery.”
Silent tears are falling down my cheeks, and with all this information, I finally burst, burying my face in my hands. Strong arms come around and pull me into a warm, hard chest. “Shh, Easton, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” Trystan whispers as he brushes his hand down my hair.
I shake my head vigorously into his chest. Because it’s not okay, it’s not going to be okay. Our precious, amazing little boy has so much to face to be free from his sickness, and all we’ll be able to do is watch him suffer. He has to go through this in order to live, and the thought is breaking my heart.
I cry harder.
The entire time, Trystan cocoons me in his warmth and holds me close, whispering words of strength. Because that’s what we’ll need to survive this.
Strength.
We’ll need to absorb it from each other and provide it to Cam when he’s at his lowest. Strength, support and love are all we can offer to our son when he is engaging in the biggest fight of his life.
And if he can do it, so can I.
Slowly, I start to gather myself together, and my cries lessen. Sobs become tears and tears become sniffles as the fight builds inside me to face what is to come. I pull back, new resolve in place.
Trystan wipes my tears with his thumbs. “Are you okay?”.
“I am now,” I respond with a certainty I have no choice but to embrace.
Trystan’s eyes are moist, and the green burns bright. “Good,” he declares with determination. “This is a battle Cam’s going to win.”
“He is.” David breaks us from our stare down with a strong, confident voice. “I know this seems like a lot to take in, but the thing you need to understand the most is that Cam is young, resilient and otherwise healthy. He has every reason to beat this. The youngest children have the highest success rates.”
I once again grasp Trystan’s hand and turn to face Kabir, retaking our seats. “Finish telling us what we need to hear.”
He nods before continuing, “The first thirty days post-transplant will be the most crucial. During this time, we’ll use different medications to prevent infections and GVHD. There will be others to treat any residual side effects from the chemo. He’ll be undergoing daily CBC tests to monitor his cell counts. By the end of this period, we’ll be hoping to see signs of engraftment, which tells us the new cells are doing their job. As the cell counts rise, his immune system builds. When he reaches certain numbers, we’ll start looking toward going home.”
I take a deep breath and release it. “Okay, so Cam will spend at least five weeks in the hospital?”
Kabir contemplates before answering. “Probably a little longer due to the nine days prior to the transplant. Studies have shown that cord blood stem cells tend to take a little longer before they start engrafting, but that’s standard, and by the thirty-day mark he should be improving daily.”
“Have you continued your regular donations?” David looks to Trystan.
“As often as they’ll let me come in,” he replies.
“Good. Cam will need regular transfusions after the transplant while we wait for the new cells to engraft. I want as much of your blood on hand as possible,” David responds.
“How long? How long can I expect my baby to suffer before he’s his usual, happy self again?” I ask. I need a time frame, something to grab onto.
Dr. Sen sighs. “Easy, I do not want to give you false hope, but the typical time frame will be six months to a year, barring no serious complications. If there are complications, it will slow his recovery dramatically.”
“So a year after the procedure, my son can be healthy and this threat long behind him?” I can live with a year. If that’s the number I need to look forward to, then I can deal with it. I will deal with it.
“Yes. It is possible that Cameron will be completely cured and this whole scenario behind him one year after his transplant,” Kabir says, and he offers me a tentative smile. “But only after we’ve found a proper match.”
“Agreed.” I release a breath of relief. “I can do a year.” I turn to Trystan and squeeze his hand. “We can do a year.”
“We can,” Trystan replies, nodding firmly, and then faces Kabir again. “Is there anything else we need to be aware of right now?”
“No, I thin
k we’ve covered the highlights of the procedure. You have a good understanding of what to expect.” Dr. Sen closes the folder and stands. “Please, feel free to contact me at any time if you have more questions.”
“We will,” I say with a smile.
Trystan stands and shakes both Kabir and David’s hand before pulling me from my seat. “Let’s go pick up our boys.”
7 Caution
Trystan
After coming to terms with everything we learned from David and Kabir, Easton and I spent the better part of last week weighing the pros and cons of speaking to the press. Friday morning, we finally contacted Katherine and asked if she would arrange an interview for us. By the afternoon, we had an appointment for Monday with the widest-reaching paper in the state.
Wanting to push all the worries from our minds, I suggested we go out and do something special. We ended up spending Saturday evening at Stone Mountain taking in the laser show, and Sunday we went on a picnic at Peach Springs Park. It was two days of family-filled fun and just what Easton and I needed to shake off the funky vibes our extracurricular activities were causing.
Though that aspect of our life is a little rocky, when it comes to the boys, Easton and I are completely in sync. We’re a strong team who faces our family struggles together, and I admire her determination to hold onto that. But she has to know by now, I’d never allow my personal hurt or anger to bleed into my commitment to this family, and the proof of that is our current standoff.
I’ve almost approached the point where I’m beginning to despise that goddamn agreement. Trying to sort myself out while continuing to fuck her hasn’t been easy, but I think for the first time since this all started, I know what I want. And that’s her. This family. We’re already great, but there’s room for improvement. The chance to give our boys the fairy tale—if only she’d allow it. She’s definitely someone I could fall in love with if given the chance.
It’s Monday now, and we just finished our interview with The Atlanta Beacon. As I lead Easton from their headquarters, I can’t help but feel anxious. Sure, the interview went well, and we’re optimistic that the media will give us privacy now that they understand there’s a sick child involved, but it still opens us up to a fuckload of scrutiny.
“Are you all right?” I ask as I guide her to my rental. My hand is on her lower back, and she’s trembling beneath my fingertips.
“I think so.” She spares me a worried glance as I open her door and pause, her eyes scanning the parking lot. “I’m scared, Trystan. What if they come after us, hound us, camp outside our door. The boys won’t understand, and they’ll be terrified. Did we make the right decision? Maybe we should just go bac―”
“Hey, hey, calm down,” I soothe, rubbing her arm. “The boys are fine. They’re very resilient and can handle a few reporters. Hell, they’d probably get a kick out of it. But if you want to change your mind, now is the time. When we leave here, there’s no turning back.”
Her shoulders slump and her eyes fall to the concrete beneath our feet. “Are we ready for this? For the world to know?”
I chuckle lightly and pull her chin up so I can see her beautiful blue eyes. “I highly doubt the world will know,” I say, trying to make the situation lighter. “But, yes, we’re ready. We’ll handle it like everything else. As a family.”
She takes a deep breath and releases it with a nod. “You’re right. We can do this.”
Smiling, I push a half-purple curl behind her ear. “We can.”
“Thank you for the reminder.” She gives me a grateful smile and tucks her skirt beneath her legs as she takes a seat in the car.
Once she’s in, I close her door and twirl the keys on my finger as I make my way to the driver’s side. After slipping inside, I give her a wink and start the ignition. We’re mostly silent as I navigate us to I-75 and head north toward her parents’ house.
Even though I hide my ever-growing feelings during sex, our solid family bond is as firm as ever. Situations like this are when we’re at our strongest. Everything else falls to the wayside when it comes to protecting Blake and Cam. They’ll always come first, even if it means my feelings can never be explored further.
“Where are we going?” Easton asks, breaking into my thoughts.
I shrug and glance at her. “To pick up the boys. Why?”
Her hand slips over and rubs up my thigh. My cock immediately perks up, causing my eyes to widen. She licks her lips and says, “I thought we’d stop by the house first.”
My heart aches as much as my swelled cock, but it doesn’t stop me from taking her back to our house and fucking her hard from behind. Even with the disconnected position, the whole time I’m yearning for her to let me show her how good we could be together. How much more perfect our already amazing family could be.
Later in the week, while Easton takes a lunch meeting with a long-time client, the boys and I head to Dr. Logan’s office for Cam’s weekly check-up. This is a first for me, but one I’ll willingly do. He’s my son, and I want the responsibilities that come with being a father to him. Besides, I’ve taken Blake to doctor’s appointments his whole life.
When I approach the window, an elderly lady smiles at me. “Hello, sir. Can I help you?”
“Yeah, I have Cameron Wilder here to see Dr. Logan.”
She peeks over the counter and notices the boys. “Oh, yes, of course. I’m Mrs. Sanders, and you must be the father of these two handsome boys.”
I chuckle. “I am. Nice to meet you. I’m Trystan Ashby.”
She blushes as she types into her computer. “Nice to meet you, too. You’re all signed in. Have a seat, and someone will be with you shortly.”
While I sit, the boys run off to play with a common waiting room toy; it has different colored intertwining wires with beads that slide along them. I tilt my head to the women seated near me, but otherwise, keep to myself. From past experience, a lone father, especially a single one, in a waiting room with his adorable son, sons in this case, can attract a lot of attention, even if most of the women are married.
Luckily my wait isn’t long. After a few other kids have been called, the nurse finally calls Cam’s name and leads us back to an exam room. “Just have a seat, and Dr. Logan will be with you shortly.” With a smile, she closes the door behind her.
“Help me up, Daddy Trystan,” Cam says, holding up his arms for me to sit him on the exam table.
“Me, too,” Blake says, doing the same.
I lift them both and allow them to sit on the table while I take the chair beside them. “Blake, you want to get your blood drawn, too?’ I ask, messing with him.
He shakes his head wildly back and forth. “No way, Daddy. I don’t want Cam to have to neither.”
“It’s okay, Blake. I a big boy. It only hurts this much.” He holds his fingers out, his thumb and pointer mashed together tightly.
“Really? I thought it hurted a whole lots.”
Cam just shakes his head and points to himself. “Nope. I a big boy, that’s all.”
“I a big boy, too.” Blake turns to me. “Ain’t I a big boy, Daddy?”
“You’re both big boys. Daddy’s big, smart boys,” I say in a placating manner.
We all perk up when the door opens, interrupting the feud. “Hey, Cam, Blake. How are you two doing today?” David says in greeting.
“We good. We big boys,” Blake answers him while Cam just nods along.
David chuckles. “You sure are.” He turns to me. “Hey, Trystan. Good to see you again.”
He holds out his hand, and I eagerly shake it. “Good to see you, too, David.”
“I’m actually thrilled you’re here. After the appointment, I’d like to discuss something with you that’s been on my mind,” he says, piquing my interest.
“Sure.” I shrug, wondering if it has to do with Easton and me.
He turns his attention toward the boys. “Okay, Cam. You ready to get your blood drawn?”
Cam nods and holds out his
arm like he’s done this a thousand time, and fuck, I guess he has. I watch as David goes through the steps, talking to the boys the whole time, explaining exactly what he’s doing. When he has two full vials, he labels them and places them on the counter. Our visit is completed with a routine exam, specifically looking for any new symptoms related to his illness.
“You were remarkable today, Cameron,” David says with a smile. “And my what a supportive brother you were, Blake. I’m proud of you both.”
I can literally see my boys’ chests swell with pride. “Dudes, you were awesome!” I hold up my hand for some high fives while David walks over to the door.
“Estella,” he calls, and she must appear because he continues. “Could you take Cam and Blake to get a sucker? I need to speak with Mr. Ashby for a moment.”
Helping the boys down, I hold out my fist for a bump as each one goes to pass me. “You two be good, and I’ll be out there in just a minute.”
Estella smiles and grabs a hand from each boy before turning to lead them from the room. Her voice trails behind them. “What color will you be selecting this week?”
Once they’re gone, I stand and rake my hand through my hair. “Is everything okay? Is something wrong with Cam? Are his test results ba―”
“Calm down, Trystan,” he says, holding up his palms. “Everything is as good as can be expected so far. Actually, in the few days since your story hit the papers we’ve had a lot of people come to MUMC for testing.”
“Good, okay.” I blow out a breath and retake my seat. “Go ahead.”
“I wish to apologize in advance if I upset you by either the broaching of this subject at all or the fact that I waited a week and a half to speak with you. It’s a sensitive matter for some families and should be handled with care,” David says, and I’m starting to have flashbacks of Dr. Scott.
I bite my tongue to hold in a smartass comment on evasiveness and just go for directness instead. “Does it pertain to the decision Easton and I made?”