Present Perfect (44 page)

“They’re on a trip while you’re sick?”

“I’ve been sick for so long I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t. Other people can’t stop living their lives just because yours is coming to an end.”

I felt my heart completely break for this guy, who I’d only met fifteen minutes ago.

He interrupted my train of thought, saying, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“With pity.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…you shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

“I won’t now that I have you.”

Dalton sat with me for the rest of my chemo that day, even though his was done an hour before mine. He met Mom and charmed her, just as much as he had me. He had been diagnosed when he was fifteen and just turned twenty in December. He told me his doctors were shocked that he had survived this long. He had one brother who lived in New York, but other than his parents, he didn’t have any other family here.

There was something about this boy that I immediately connected with, besides the common denominator of cancer. I had only had that feeling with Noah. Dalton was sweet, funny, smart, brave, and alone. I wanted him to come home with us, so I could take care of him. I had only known him for one afternoon and I felt like I had a new best friend.

Today is the first time I haven’t felt like writing since I learned how to write. There have been days when I didn’t know what to write about, but the desire to write was always there.

Writing is such a part of who I am. My identity. Cancer is not only eating away at my body, it’s eating away at who I am and what I love. I don’t consider myself a very strong person. I don’t know how much I can take before I break. I just know I feel the crack becoming longer and wider each time the cancer devours another part of me.

The effects of chemo are worse than having cancer. A person could live for years with cancer growing inside them and never know it until a doctor examines them and tests tell them so. I used to wonder how a person could have cancer all over their body, only have a few months to live, and not feel the effects of it. It’s because cancer is a quiet bastard, that sneaks in and consumes you before you realize what’s happened.

Chemo, on the other hand, is loud and proud. It won’t let you forget that it is a constant presence in your life. Not only does it let you know while it’s invading your body at the clinic, it follows you home and moves in. I started feeling the effects shortly after I had gotten home from treatment number one.

At first, I thought it was all the stress and anxiety I had during the day, that was crashing in on me. As the day went on, I felt progressively worse. The first visible sign of the cancer killing chemicals flowing through my body was the first time I went to pee. It was red and freaked me out. I really should have read all the info Dr. Lang gave me about chemotherapy.

The second side effect was the sensation of heat building up inside. It started in my chest and then radiated throughout my entire body. That, coupled with the phantom pain I was still experiencing, made me want to blow my brains out.

The next day I woke up, after only an hour’s worth of sleep, flushed red all over my body and my face was hot and puffy. Later that day, I started getting very intense indigestion and some hiccups. The hiccups were not your normal type. They were so forceful that they shook my body and they lasted for an hour or so at a time.

The nausea started settling in, a couple of hours after the indigestion started. This was not your normal nausea in which you would feel a wave that would crest and fall through you. Chemo nausea was a sharp pain that continuously stabbed at my stomach. It reminded me of the phantom pain I had. The pain shocks you because it’s as if it comes out of nowhere. Each time I threw up, my throat burned a little more until it was completely raw. The nausea was relentless. I had thrown up all the contents of my stomach after three episodes. From then on, I had dry heaves that left my stomach and back in unbearable pain.

I always thought chemo took your appetite away. Maybe for some but for me, my appetite skyrocketed. I was starving. I wanted to eat and I tried to, but I had developed a couple of ulcers in my mouth and the pain I felt when any food or drink washed over them wasn’t worth it to me.

By day three post first chemo I was completely exhausted. I don’t mean a little tired. I mean I could barely lift my head up off the pillow exhausted. I had lived on milkshakes and apple juice for three days before the diarrhea started and it burned as if someone had taken a hot poker and shoved it up my ass and left it there.

I felt depression setting in. I was still mourning the loss of my leg and the effects of the chemo were causing me to fall deeper into a feeling of despair. I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t strong enough. I considered calling Dr. Lang and telling him I wanted to stop the chemo and would just take my chances.

Noah called me several times a day wanting to come over, but I just couldn’t let him see me this way. Maybe I could see him on my off weeks. Besides, his second semester had started and there was Brooke. He didn’t need to spend time watching me throw up. I also had decided that I needed to pull away from him some. After the way I felt watching him walk out the door Christmas day, I knew I was becoming more dependent on him and at some point, wouldn’t be able to let him go. I made a promise to myself that I was not going to burden Noah with any of this. I wanted him to have a happy normal life, not one being a nurse to me.

My second round of chemo was even worse, if that was possible. I was in the bathroom puking my guts out when I heard voices in the hallway. It was Noah. He and Emily were arguing. “Noah, she’s having a bad day.”

“I need to see her, Emily.”

“Now is not a good time. She’s very sick today. The chemo hit her harder this week.”

“I want to take care of her.”

“Noah, please go…”

“No. She’s pushed me away since Christmas and I don’t understand why. I promised her we’d get through this together. I haven’t seen her in two weeks. I need to see her. Please, Emily.”

I heard a soft knock on the door and Emily asked, “Manda, are you okay? Can I come in?”

I sat back on the tile floor, my back resting against the tub. “Yes.” My voice sound so weak. The exhaustion had set in earlier this week than before. I was barely able to sit up.

The door slowly opened and Emily stepped in, closing it behind her. She got a rag, ran warm water over it, and pressed it against my forehead. “Noah’s here and he wants to see you.”

“Emily…”

“I told him you were sick, but…Manda, if you could see the look on his face. It broke my heart. He looks so sad and lost. He wants to be here for you.”

“He doesn’t need to spend his life taking care of me,” I whispered.

“But I think he wants to.”

“I want to go back to bed now.”

Emily started helping me up. I was still getting use to my
new
leg. The leg guy said eventually it would feel like an extension of me. Right now, it felt like it weighed a ton and was awkward as hell to maneuver.

Once I was up on my feet, my knees felt weak and collapsed underneath me. My knee caps hit the tile floor hard and sent a piercing pain up my legs. I started to cry uncontrollably. Then I felt the warm protective arms of Noah scoop me up and carry me into my bedroom, all the while he whispered into my hair, “I’ve got you, Tweet. I’ll take care of you.”

I couldn’t stop crying. I felt so physically and mentally defeated, I couldn’t pull myself together. Emily was standing in the doorway with tears running down her face. Sitting in front of me on the bed, Noah brought his hands up to my face, and wiped my tears away with this thumbs.

I looked at him through blurred vision and said, “I’m so ashamed.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I can’t do anything for myself anymore. Every part of my body feels sick. I just want to die.” I looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Noah, tell them to let me go.” My sobs became so heavy, I was having a hard time catching my breath. I heard Emily crying louder.

Noah shifted to sit behind me and enveloped me in his arms, my back pressed securely to his chest. He buried his face in my neck. I felt it get wet with his tears as he whispered, “I can’t do that. I need you too much. Don’t leave me.”

I fell asleep and slept soundly the entire night for the first time in over a week. When I woke up the next morning, the reason why I slept so well still had his arms around me.

Dalton got me through my bad days as much as possible. He called every day to check on me and had come over to hang out when he was having a good day. He even went to the hospital with me when they removed my portacath. It got infected. Since all these chemo drugs were in me, my immune system was shot to hell, so the catheter needed to be removed immediately. I told Dr. Lang I didn’t want another one placed. I hated the idea and look of something under my skin sticking out of my body. I would just suck it up and deal with the IV sticks for chemo.

I don’t know how I would have gotten through everything without Dalton. My family and Noah were a tremendous help, but they could only empathize. Dalton knew what my body was feeling and how my mind was trying to process it all. I didn’t have to explain anything to him. He read me just as well as Noah.