by T. K. Rapp
When we arrive back to my place six hours after we left, my parents and Drew walk me into my room, insisting that I get some rest. I feel pretty decent right now, but I take his advice and lay down with my book that I have wanted to get back to. I knew reading would make me sleepy, but I love this book and fight like crazy to stay awake so I can finish it. Unfortunately, I can only fight so hard and eventually I fall asleep. I’m not sure how long I was out all I know is that I’m jolted from my bed by a horrendous wave of nausea. I crawl out of my bed in a hurry and lose my footing, falling on my ass next to the bed. Why is this happening? They gave me anti-nausea medication in my IV. I try to get up, but as I get to my knees, Drew is standing over me lifting me up to cradle me in his arms.
“It’s okay,” he says in a soothing tone, as he rushes me to the bathroom. “I got ya.”
I can’t respond because I’m afraid if I open my mouth, I’ll empty the contents of whatever is inside of me all over him. I try to break free from his hold, but I’m just too weak to fight him. He sets me gently onto the floor and I raise myself up and grasp the edge of the toilet seat, retching loudly. I figure he left the room when he set me down, but instead I hear him shuffling through my bathroom drawers and found a ponytail to pull my hair back. He gathers my short hair in his hands and makes quick time of sweeping it up and then wets a towel and holds it to my head. I didn’t realize I was sweating.
“Go,” I heave again, hoping to avoid another round of vomiting, “away.” Another retch comes out. “I’ll be fine.”
He rinses the washcloth and kneels down next to me, placing the cool rag on my neck. He rubs my back as my body continues to shudder. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says in a soothing tone.
I try to take a deep breath and the vomiting starts again and I grip the sides so hard that my knuckles are turning white. He tries to rub my back again, but I move away from his touch, and look at him. He looks as if I have punched him, but I just want him to leave.
“Please, Drew,” I plead as tears pool in my eyes. “Just go away. I don’t want y'all to see me like this.”
“Don’t be stupid. Let me help,” he winces when he realizes his choice of words and I glare at him. Maybe that’s what I needed, because tears aren’t working, but maybe anger will.
I turn at my waist, not letting go of the seat edge and stare him down, “Just let me do this. Alone.”
“No, stop being so damn stubborn and let me help you.”
“Fine, then get my mom!”
“They went out for a while, but they’ll be back soon. So I guess you’re stuck with me,” he says brusquely.
Just as I release my right hand to shove him away, another wave of nausea hits, distracting me from arguing with him. I told all of them that I don’t want them to see me like this, and I know it’s stupid, because we have all heard what cancer patients go through during treatment. I just don’t want them to see me weak and unable to do for myself. If I had it my way, I’d do this day alone at home, and then they could see me after the bad part has passed. Unfortunately, none of them would go for that deal when I first suggested it. Luckily, backup is here because I hear the front door open and my parents chattering about something.
“We’re in her bathroom,” Drew yells to them.
I hear them coming to my room and my mom’s gasp at seeing me like this is audible. I try to give her a smile and Drew stands up to let my mom do what moms do, mother me. She smiles sweetly at him, no doubt thanking him for being there and he starts to leave the room. I feel guilty, I know he was just trying to be there for me, and I was a little bitchy, but I think I am allowed that right now.
“Thank you,” I eek out before he is out of earshot. He looks back at me and nods with a wink before leaving me with my mom.
This is for You
My parents left a couple of days after my first treatment and I thought I’d get time to myself, but I was wrong. If it’s not Drew at my place, it’s Nev or it’s Nev and Drew, checking up on me and inevitably staying the night. They think I can’t see what they’re doing, but it’s obvious they think I can’t be alone. I need alone time; I need to cry. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but the more they’re around the more irritable I get and there’s a chance I will blow up at any moment. It’s not that I am angry all the time, but when it does flare, it would be nice to go with it. But I guess I’ll have to wait for the opportunity to be alone and that's when I will lose it. I’m not ashamed of it because I’ve started to find the tears to be cathartic. I know if they see me falling apart, their concern will grow and then the hovering will only get worse.
My doctor has me receiving six chemo treatments three weeks apart, so my next one will be tomorrow and I’m not looking forward to it at all. But who would be excited about it? Based on the experience I had with the first round, I’m in for a long day, and since Drew will be with me again, I brought a bag with some things to keep him busy. There’s a strong likelihood I’ll sleep for some of it again and I’d hate for him to get bored.
The upside, a few days after my first treatment, I started to feel much more like myself. My energy wasn’t completely there, but I was able to do things like get my work done. My boss has been fabulous, letting me work from home as much as I want. Since I love what I do, I’ve had no problem keeping up with my workload, but I have turned down requests to help Janet with hers. Saying “no” was quite liberating. She tried to talk to Mr. Marx about how busy she’d been with my being gone, that is until he told her that I was taking some time to work at home and still meeting all of my deadlines. She was pretty quiet after that. I work when I have the energy, and when I don’t I take a break and start fresh later. So far, this has worked out well for me and hopefully after this treatment, I’ll be able to say the same thing.
Nope.
This round was much harder than the last time, but I’m not sure why. The procedure was the same; I even had the same nurse, who I liked. Almost everything was the same, but I seem to be having a reaction quicker, which is only making my mood more hostile. Waiting for Drew to pull his truck around is excruciatingly horrible because it’s so damn hot. It’s fucking killing me. I’m hot and sweaty, and I’m not sure if it’s the meds or the temperature, all I do know is that I’m about to have a fit, and it won’t be pretty. Maybe it has nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with the fact that when he takes me home, Drew will stay at my place and check on me throughout the night. But I’d like to give the appearance that I can take care of myself; no one will give me the chance though.
Everyday. Everyday I have someone with me, and everyday, I resent him or her a little more. If I weren’t sick, they wouldn’t be doing this. It would be nice to throw a damn fit in peace. I wouldn't wish what I’m going through on anyone, but I have so much bitterness in me right now and I know it is not good, but hell, I have no outlet, so it just festers. I refuse to show anyone this ugly side of me because I don't want to seem ungracious. But I figure I have the right to be angry and I just don’t take them down with me.
Drew brings his truck around and jumps out to get the door for me. “Here, let me get that for you.”
“I’m not an invalid, I can get my own door,” I snap unnecessarily.
“I know, but if I want to get the damn door, then let me get the damn door,” he snaps back. I love when he argues with me; I think he knows it’s my lame attempt to get out my aggression. Since he'll be staying with me tonight, there will be no throwing shit around or screaming and crying, which means I’ll have to wait until he leaves. So arguing with Drew will have to suffice for the time being.
He climbs into the truck and pulls out of the circular driveway. “Is there anything you need before we get back to your place?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m starting to get tired.”
“Okay, well you sleep and I’ll wake you when we get to your place.” He reaches to the backseat and hands me a jacket. “You were cold when we left last time, so I brought it ju
st in case.” He turns the radio on to my music and I drift to sleep.
“Cass,” I hear him call my name, “Pia, we’re here. Wake up.”
I try opening my eyes, but I'm too exhausted. He walks over to my door and tries to help me out, but sees my struggle. “I’m going to carry you in, so don’t flip out on me. Okay?”
“Okay.” This is the only word I can manage. I want nothing more than to walk myself in, but I’m just too tired. He carries me into the condo and takes me straight to my bedroom. He places me into my bed and covers me with a blanket before sitting next to me. My eyes are still closed, but I can feel him watching me. I try to sit up, but he lays a hand on my shoulder willing me to stay still and rest.
“You get some rest and I’ll be in the living room if you need me. I’m going to call your parents and let them know you’re finished. I promised I would let them know how you were doing.” I just nod my head and roll over. When he leaves the room I drift to sleep comfortably listening to the whirring of my ceiling fan.
Hearing a phone chime, I wake with a jolt, trying to figure out where I am. With no idea how long I've been asleep, I focus my eyes on the clock by my bed and see that it's three thirty. I sit up and let my mind adjust before I get out of bed, but my attempts to actually get out are thwarted. I dangle my feet off the side of my bed and push myself up to go to the door. Frustrated, I finally get to my feet and head for my door but stop short of walking out when I hear Drew’s end of a phone call.
“I told you, I can’t leave right now.”
Why can’t he leave?
“I’m being a friend, what’s wrong with that?”
Yep, he’s being a great friend.
“I can’t leave her when she’s like this. She needs me.”
Whoever he is talking to wants to meet him somewhere, and he won’t go because of me? I don't want him putting his life on hold to care of me. I warned him that I wouldn't go for that deal because he has to keep some semblance of a life.
“She could wake up anytime now so, I need to go. I’ll text you later if I can make it. Talk to you later.”
I know now that I need to make my “nurse” leave because he has a life he needs to get back to. I just have to convince him that I'll be okay on my own. If I don’t push him, he'll never leave. I turn to go to my bathroom and wash my face and put on a small amount of I makeup, just so I don't look so tired. Fixing myself up after the last treatment made me feel and look somewhat better, and if I'm going to pull this off, it has to be believable. Once I’m sure I look good enough, I walk out with confidence and see a surprised look on his face. Clearly it works because I look somewhat put together.
“Hey! How are you feeling?” His head snaps to face me when I enter, before looking around the room. Why is he acting like that?
“I’m good, how long was I sleeping?”
He looks at his watch, “About two hours.” He gets up to help me to the couch, “You want something to drink?”
I push lightly off of him before walking to the kitchen, “I’m fine, and I can get it myself.” The stab of hurt in his face is unmistakable, but that’s okay. It’ll just make it that much easier for him to leave.
“Everything okay?” he asks, as though he thinks I might attack him.
I plaster my most convincing smile on my face, and try to make my voice upbeat. “I’m fine. Just had chemo and I’m tired, but otherwise, I’m good.” Well, that just came out bitchy.
He looks completely confused and I’m about to make it worse. “I just got off the phone with my mom and I asked her to come out and stay for a few days. It sounds like you have plans that you are putting off and I don’t want to keep you.” There is a distinct bitter tone in my voice that I try to mask, but hard as I try, it’s there. It’s not fair for him to continue taking care of me when he has a business to run, and a life to live. And even though I didn’t call my mom, he won’t know that because he'll be gone by the time she is “supposed” to be here.
He studies my face but appears convinced by my statement. He just nods nonchalantly, “Alright then, when she gets here, I’ll leave.”
“You don’t have to stay to take care of me,” I object, hoping I can push him out the door. “I’ll be fine, you have things to tend to and I can call Nev if I need anything.”
He just blows off my comments, “No, it would be nice to see Annette, haven’t seen her since she was here last.” I know he likes my parents, but come on, he has to talk to them too often as it is. I seriously doubt he wants to visit in person.
“Why won’t you just leave?” The exasperation is evident.
“Why won’t you admit your lying?”
I take a sharp breath in and try to contain any shock that may show on my face before I defend myself trying to diffuse the situation, “What are you talking about? I’m not lying.”
“Tell me then, how is your mom coming here when she and you dad leave tomorrow for Vegas?”
Crap. I’m speechless.
“What? Nothing to say?” He looks at me waiting for a response, knowing that I have completely bull-shitted everything I have said up to this point. “So why don’t you be honest with me? Why are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Fine,” I huff out loud. “She’s not coming out. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to stay here with me. You have a life, Drew; go live it. Have fun. Date.”
“If I wanted to go out, I would. If I wanted to go out on a date, I’d ask. I’m where I want to be. Why can’t you just accept that?”
“But the phone call, a minute ago...”
“What about it?”
“Clearly you have plans, don’t let me stop you,” I bite out with anger. “I don’t need a babysitter. I don’t need someone with me 24…” I am about to continue my argument when my first bout of nausea from chemo hits. I run to my bedroom and slam the door behind me as I barrel toward the toilet. I hear the door open behind me and immediately yell at him. “Leave me alone Drew! Go away!”
“I’m. Not. Going. Anywhere.” He says with finality as he walks in and kneels down next to me. He takes my hair out of my hands and ties my hair into a ponytail, just as he did last time. He begins rubbing my back in a soothing motion as I start heaving again.
“Please,” I beg, as I start to cry in defeat, “I need you to go. Just go.”
“I’m not here because I have to be, or because you want me here. I’m here because I want to. Stop fighting me. Please.”
“I would feel better if you maintained some form of normalcy. One of us should be able to have that. Why don’t you call that girl, Eve, and go out with her?”
“Once your nausea has passed and you can rest comfortably, I’ll do something. Until then, I’m not leaving you. Got it?”
“Okay, just promise me, you will go out and do something fun.”
“If that’s what you want, I’ll go out when you’re feeling better. But the only person I’m going out with is you.”
“No.”
“No? Why not?”
“Because…” why is he arguing with me? “Because you need to get away from me. All you do is work and take care of me. Please just do this for me.”
He looks so dejected and I can't understand why. When he asked to be with me while I go through all of this, I made up my mind to make sure that it stayed friendly. I’m happy to have my friend back, but I don’t want him to put his life on hold. Especially for me.
“You are so stubborn and your fucking martyr act is pissing me off right now. If you’ll remember, I had to beg you to let me be here with you. I wanted to be here. But if this is what you need, you want to continue wallowing in your own misery, then fine, I’ll see you later.” He shoves off the floor and walks to the counter to retrieve his keys. He doesn’t even look back at me when he opens it; he just talks over his shoulder. “I’ll let Nev know that you’ll call her if you need her.” With that, he shuts the door and I feel the wind rush out of my lungs as I fall to the floor and cry
.
He left.
He walked out. I guess if you push someone long and hard enough, you’ll find the point where they finally leave.
Kicking Some Ass
My phone is next to my bed charging and I hear the annoying ringtone that tells me Nevaeh is calling me. I finally stopped throwing up, but I don’t want to talk to her, or anyone else, for that matter. But I know that if I don’t answer, she’ll storm my place like I’m hiding a criminal.
“Hello?” I answer, drained from vomiting and crying.
“What the hell happened?” She snaps, “Drew called Luke’s phone looking for me and said that you kicked him out after some insane rant that I didn’t get the details on. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing, I’m fine,” I say exasperated. “I’m tired, I’m just gonna climb into bed and sleep this shit off.”
“I’m coming over,” she states and before I can object, she hangs up her phone. Of course thirty minutes later she blazes through the front door using the key I had given her for emergencies. This is not an emergency. She announces her presence shouting my name in the darkness, flipping on the light in the process.
I really need to get that damn thing back from her.
“Nevaeh, I just want to be alone,” I shout, knowing she won’t be leaving.
She storms into my room where I am laying on my bed and pulls the covers back before smacking my ass and yelling at me. “I’m sick! Let me sleep.”
“What the hell is wrong with you, dumbass?”
I jump up at look at her like she’s lost her damn mind, “I’m sorry, what?”
“Why did you kick him out?” She demands to know as she walks into my living room, expecting me to follow her, no doubt.