by Jim Cangany
It wasn't working.
"You ready for this?"
"As I'll ever be." She raised her hand for a high five. "Let's get this party started."
While Annie filled out paperwork for what seemed like the eighty-seventh time, I took in the reception area. Wooden chairs with cushy cloth upholstery were scattered about the room. Cancer support-themed magazines were neatly stacked on a matching coffee table. A couple that looked to be in their sixties was seated in a corner. The man had papery looking skin and sunken eyes. An Indianapolis Colts stocking cap covered what I guessed to be a chemotherapy-induced bald head. The plumpness of his wife accentuated his rail-thin physique.
I flipped through one of the magazines and was inundated with images of men with no hair, women who looked woefully thin, and children in hospital beds. There was an article on estate planning. My heart started hammering in my chest as question after question blew up in my mind.
Good God, what am I up against? How sick is Annie going to get? Will she end up bed-ridden? Will I be spending the next year caring for Annie just like I cared for Mom the last year of her life? Am I even strong enough to go through that again? Annie's got no family, if I don't take care of her, who will? What if she dies? Dear God, anything but that, please.
A nudge on my shoulder brought me out of my panic attack. Annie was on her feet.
"Earth to McCarty. I'm up."
A curly-haired woman in pink scrubs led us through a door into a small lab. I stood back and watched in distress as the woman drew blood samples from the port Dr. Furman had surgically inserted just below Annie's left collar bone. My knees grew weak when Annie winced during the procedure.
I had to look away.
Great, I'm such a freaking wimp, I can't even watch Annie get her blood drawn.
Filled with shame at my weakness, I silently followed the technician and Annie to a second waiting area. We took our seats on one side of a three-walled room. Across from us sat a man who didn't look much older than me. He was tapping away on his phone and I couldn't help but wonder about him. What kind of cancer did he have? Was he with someone or was he by himself? Was his stomach doing backflips and barrel rolls like mine was?
I flipped open my notebook and immersed myself in my notes to try to pull myself together. I must have achieved my goal because I didn't hear Annie's name when it was called. In fact, it wasn't until Annie bumped me on the shoulder that I realized she was standing and waiting for me to follow her and a woman who I assumed was Dr. Hill.
The doctor gave me a little smile and a nod before guiding us into an exam room. After some preliminary tasks, she performed a physical exam of Annie's breasts. "I want to get an initial sense of the size of the tumors."
When she was finished noting the size and feel of the tumors, she straightened her glasses. "Here are my thoughts. I recommend eight rounds of chemotherapy, beginning today. The treatments will be spaced two weeks apart, so after today you'll return for your next treatment in two weeks. I want to start you with a cocktail of adriomycin and cytoxin, or AC for short. You'll receive four treatments of the AC."
I scribbled furiously, not understanding a thing, but not wanting to miss anything either.
"After the fourth AC treatment, if everything is going well, we'll switch you to Taxol for the final four treatments. I would also like to give you an injection of a medicine called Neulasta with each treatment. It will boost your platelet count, but has some side effects, including bone pain. Overall, though, I'd highly recommend it. Now I've talked enough. I'm sure you have questions. Fire away."
Annie remained silent, so I cleared my throat.
"Is there any way to anticipate how Annie will react to the treatments?"
"No two people will react to the therapy in the exact same way." She focused on Annie. "However, I can tell you that, in general, you'll feel the effects of the treatment two to three days after each infusion. You will likely feel tired. You may experience nausea. I can prescribe an anti-nausea medication to combat that. "
Annie tugged the lock of hair by her ear. "I think that'd be a good idea. Better to have it and not need it."
"I'll make sure you have a script for it before you leave today. The good news is that with each day that passes after an infusion, you'll probably feel a little better. In many cases, people feel pretty normal the day or two leading up to their next round of treatment. I must caution you though, that the treatments do have a cumulative effect. As you progress, the bounce-back may take longer and be less strong."
I stopped writing and looked at the doctor. "Any other side effects or things we should be on the lookout for?"
"In general, you may tire easily, Ms. Wilson. While it's not a concern now, you will still be undergoing treatment in May, so you should limit your exposure to the sun. Your immune system will be compromised as well, so try to avoid people who have a cold or a virus."
Annie blew out a long breath. "What about the hair?"
"A very common and understandable question." The doctor placed her hand on Annie's knee. "With this course of treatment, it's probable that you will lose your hair."
"When?"
"Typically two to three weeks after treatment begins. You'll begin to notice strands of hair in your brush or when you take a shower around the time your second treatment takes place."
Annie sighed. "So much for getting that hair conditioner endorsement back." Her lips curved up at the edges and she glanced at me. "Hope a bald fiancé doesn't scare you too much."
"I think you'll look exotic, like that girl in the first Star Trek movie."
"Oh lord, not Star Trek again." Annie bumped me with her elbow. "Ready whenever you are, Doctor. Let's rock and roll."
We followed Dr. Hill into a large open area with a dozen or so beige, vinyl recliners spaced along the north and south walls and the eastern portion of the room. A handful of hospital beds were backed up against the western wall. Glass from floor to ceiling, the wall allowed for an unobstructed view of the cancer survivors' meditation park directly below. Four flat-screen televisions were hung from the walls. Three were tuned to news channels and one was showing a talk show I didn't recognize.
About half of the recliners and two of the beds were occupied. Each occupant was connected to a thin, clear tube that ran from a transparent bag hanging from an IV pole to either an arm or chest area. Two elderly men sporting Indianapolis Colts stocking caps were playing chess in a corner, seemingly oblivious to the medicine dripping into them. A tiny woman wearing glasses had her feet up and was knitting. A girl who couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen had ear buds in and was busy with what looked like homework.
A tall, thin woman in royal blue scrubs approached us. Her hazel eyes practically disappeared when she smiled. It reminded me of Mom, and calmed my jittery nerves a touch.
"Hi, I'm Therese Downey and I'll be your nurse."
We introduced ourselves and followed Doctor Hill to the recliner next to the girl. She exchanged a few words with Therese before returning to her office. When the doctor was out of sight, Annie took a deep breath and lowered herself into the recliner. I spotted a little stool that I rolled next to Annie's chair and sat. While we got settled, the nurse disappeared and returned a short time later with a bag of the clear liquid that was supposed to make my North Star better. The label on the bag identifying the concoction as toxic sent my nerves jangling against each other again.
Therese filled us in on what Annie could and couldn't do while she hung the bag on a pole and unwound the tubing. Annie was welcome to read, watch TV, sleep—whatever she wanted to do. If she needed to use the restroom, the pole was on wheels, so she could take the pole with her.
"And if you get hungry, by all means, eat. There's a café downstairs. You could send your friend here on a lunch run."
Annie glanced at me and frowned. "I don't know. He might get lost and I'm in no condition to rescue him." My girl still had her feisty spirit. Yes!
The nurse
patted Annie's arm. "That's all right. I'll give him a map and highlight the most direct route in bright orange."
"Oh, I think we're going to get along famously, Therese. And please call me Annie." Any further comment was cut off when Therese inserted a needle into Annie's port and the medicine started flowing.
"You're all set, Annie. I'll be around to check on you in a bit."
"How long will this take?" she said.
"If you don't have any problems, three hours or so."
Three hours? I dropped my backpack at my feet, figuring I might as well get comfortable.
Therese turned away to check on the girl next to us. I was digging the book Annie had brought out of my backpack when our neighbor took in a sharp breath. I straightened up. The girl was staring at Annie with wide eyes and an open mouth. She pulled her ear buds out and dropped her pencil in her book.
Annie glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, then turned toward the girl. "Hi."
"Um, hi. I'm sorry. For a minute, I thought you were someone else. You look like someone famous."
"Really? Who might that be?"
"There's this singer I totally adore. Her name's Cassandra Lawrence. Have you ever heard of her?"
Annie's mouth curved up just a touch on one end. "I have. What's your name, hon?"
"Anastasia, but most people call me Staci."
"Well Staci, my name's Annie, but most people call me Cassandra."
Staci's eyebrows creased while she puzzled out Annie's introduction. She cocked her head to the side and gave me a once-over. "Do you know anything about bicycles? I know Cassandra's hooked up with some guy from around here that's supposed to be into bikes."
"He knows a thing or two about bikes, Staci. But don't let him hear that." Annie turned to me and winked. "I think I'm getting hungry. Would you mind getting me something while Staci and I visit?"
I returned with a couple of sub sandwiches to find Annie and Staci in the middle of an animated conversation about The Hunger Games. Evidently there was a disagreement about who was the better choice of boyfriend for Katniss. Annie was a fan of Peeta. Staci insisted Gale would have been better because Peeta was too wimpy for her.
Their conversation had shifted from books to movies when a short woman with her hair in a braid joined us.
"Mom, this is my new friend Annie. She has breast cancer. We're going to be chemo buddies."
The woman's eyes grew wide while her cheeks turned bright red. "Hello Annie, I'm Cara."
"You have a wonderful daughter, Cara. It's a pleasure to meet you." Annie extended her hand. While the three ladies chatted, Therese returned and confirmed Staci's treatment was complete. Staci dumped her school work into a backpack while Therese unhooked her.
"See you in two weeks Cas— I mean Annie. Pinkie promise." Annie and Staci wrapped their little fingers together and grinned at each other.
"Stay strong, sista. See you then."
Annie and I watched Staci and her mother make their exit. Once they were gone from our sight, Annie took my hand. "She's got a childhood form of leukemia. She's only fourteen. Today was her second round of treatment." With a long sigh, she opened her book and sank into her chair.
A little while later, Therese returned with a large syringe that she told us contained the Cytoxin. She inserted it into Annie's IV tube and spent the next half hour or so chatting with Annie while she infused the bright red medicine. Shortly after the Cytoxin was infused, chemo round one was complete. At Annie's request, the desk clerk scheduled the start time for her next treatment to coincide with Staci's.
It was a quiet drive home. I was afraid of saying the wrong thing, so instead I said nothing. Annie had leaned the seat back and closed her eyes, so it was just as well, I suppose.
When we got home, Annie went straight to her Alienware laptop. "Time to fill the world in on Cassandra's condition. You'll be a dear and let Samantha know I'll have a statement for her tonight, yes?"
While Annie worked on her statement, I kept busy with a little housework and made dinner. She made a few tweaks while we polished off our steak and chicken fajitas. When I finished cleaning up in the kitchen, she gave me the go-ahead to send it to Samantha.
"Does this mean I'm your official assistant now," I said as I settled in front of her computer. I pulled up Samantha's email account.
"Oh, you're much more than that." She draped her arms around me and laid her head on my shoulder. "Thanks for staying today. You'll have a glass of wine with me, yes?"
We each had a glass of Riesling while we waited for Samantha's response. My glass was almost empty when Annie's e-mail dinged. I cracked my knuckles while I studied the message.
"Samantha says she's fine with it. She'll get it posted on your website first thing tomorrow morning. After that, she'll issue a press release asking people to please respect your privacy." I looked at Annie. "Okay by you?"
She nodded and drained her glass. "Fine. Maybe I'm crazy, but it seems like the Neulasta injection's already making me achy. I'm going to draw a bath and head to bed."
I shot an email to Samantha to let her know Annie agreed with the plan but was too tired from a stressful day to chat. Otherwise, all things considered, she was fine.
Annie's computer was lightning fast and powerful beyond belief, so I logged onto the net and unwound with another glass of wine and some mindless surfing.
A blog analyzing the upcoming European cycling season had me so absorbed that when Annie placed her hand on my shoulder I almost jumped out of my skin.
"I'm off to bed love, goodnight."
"Okay, but first there's something we need to do." I got to my feet and led Annie into the kitchen. I opened the junk drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper on which I'd drawn eight squares. With a couple of magnets, I secured the paper to the fridge.
"Tonight marks the beginning of our countdown." I handed her a marker. "Pick a square, any square, and write today's date in it."
She uncapped the marker and wrote "2/17" in the top left square.
"Congratulations, Annie." I took her in my arms. "One down, only seven more to go."
Six
Still half asleep, I reached out to put my arm around Annie, but missed. My eyes popped open and I pawed her half of the bed. The retching sounds coming from the bathroom solved the mystery.
In a flash, I was at the door. Annie was on her knees, heaving into the toilet bowl. My first aid training kicked in, so I went to the sink and ran cold water over a washcloth. Once it was good and soaked, I wrung it out and placed it on her neck. The heaving had stopped, but she was still taking in ragged, deep breaths.
After a few minutes, she flushed and sat back on her haunches. "Guess I should have taken the anti-nausea medication, huh?" She shuddered and leaned against the bathroom wall. "Can I get another washcloth, please?"
I soaked a fresh one and placed in on her forehead. A tear ran down her cheek from one closed eye. Once I was settled in next to her, she placed her hand on top of mine and leaned her head on my shoulder.
The clock on the wall above us kept up its steady tick-tock as we sat side by side for I don't know how long. Sleep had almost captured me again when Annie took a deep breath and squeezed my hand.
"I think the worst is over."
"Do you want to go back to bed?"
She ran her hand through her hair. "What time is it?"
"About four. Come on, let's get you comfortable, and I'll get you your medicine." It wasn't until I'd gotten her in bed and brought her the anti-nausea medicine that Annie finally opened her eyes.
They were the most bloodshot I'd ever seen.
She downed the pills with a drink of water, closed her eyes again and curled into the fetal position. "Will you stay with me?"
I slipped under the covers and gave her a light as a feather back massage. "This is day three after your treatment. Doctor Hill said this would be the worst day. From now on, we'll know to start the nausea meds sooner, okay?"
She gave a
quick nod but didn't say anything. I lay there and watched her. I'd never seen my North Star in such pain before. What compounded my distress was the feeling that from here, it was going to get a whole lot worse before it started to get better.
It took a while, but Annie's breathing eventually smoothed out as she fell back asleep. Only then could I relax enough to drift off myself.
A poke to my stomach woke me back up. I opened my eyes to gaze right into Annie's. They were much clearer and accompanied by a smile.
"Hi. I'm a lot better now." She took a deep breath. "Sorry about—"
I put my finger to her lips. "Stop. Don't even think about apologizing. If you want to be sorry about something, you can be sorry the Lakers got beat last night."
"Oh lord, that was to the Clippers, too, wasn't it." She grimaced. "I think I'm going to be sick again."
"Yes, the Lakers tend to make me sick, too."
She slapped me on the arm and closed her eyes. "Can I have some toast?"
As the anti-nausea medication built up in her system, Annie's demeanor improved. It took a few days, but her appetite returned, too. The increased appetite led to more energy, so despite the late February cold, Annie agreed to get outside for a daily walk. Usually, we'd take the trail into Broad Ripple and hang out in The Monon Coffee Shop or browse the book store. Miranda texted Annie every day. I never saw what the messages said, but they always made Annie grin.
While perusing the "E" section of CD's at the record store the day before her second treatment, Annie froze with her hand in mid-air. I glanced over to see she was staring at a Melissa Etheridge disc. One of Annie's idols, the long-time rocker had been diagnosed with breast cancer in 2004. Our eyes met and Annie shrugged.
"I've read a few things about the hell she went through. I hope I don't have to go through that."
"But she survived and she's still making records. You will too."
She tugged on a lock of hair by her ear. When she opened her hand, few strands lay across her palm. "I hope so, E.J. I truly hope so."
* * * *
Our first stop back at the Cancer Center was the lab, where a technician took a sample of Annie's blood. When I asked if they'd do this every time, the tech nodded and told us they'd test it for signs of any infection as well as to monitor her platelet level. If her platelets dropped too low, she wouldn't be able to receive her chemo treatments.