Paige
IT’S THE MONDAY after the party Sean threw for me. At first, it seemed odd to celebrate that I had cancer, but upon second glance, I totally got it. And I think I fell for him a little more in the process. I’ve been depressed, angry, and a total mess since my diagnosis. I cry whenever I’m alone and am terrified down to my core over what’s going to happen to me. But in that instant, all of that washed away. It’s not that we were ignoring the fight that was ahead, but embracing it. It gave me renewed hope and determination to tell cancer to go to hell.
Sean drives us to my doctor’s office without saying a word. He puts up a good front, but I know he’s worried. I see it in the lines around his eyes and hear it in his silence. I want to comfort him and tell him I’m going to be okay, but the truth of the matter is I don’t know that. And I don’t have it in me to fake it right now either.
He finds a parking spot and a new set of nerves hit me. The feeling is different from when I went in to hear my diagnosis. Before, I felt nauseous, a lead ball in my stomach. Now, it’s dread, and the lead is in my legs as they refuse to move. I know I have to go through this, but that doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to it.
Twenty minutes, lots of silence, and a spinning mind later, Dr. Patel comes into the room. “Hello, Paige. How are you?”
“I’m okay all things considered.” I give him a tight smile, but I know it doesn’t hide my anxiousness.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Patel,” he says to Sean, stretching his hand out to him.
“Nice to meet you Doctor, I’m Sean, Paige’s boyfriend.” He shakes the doctor’s hand and has a seat.
“Are you okay with me discussing everything in front of Sean?” the doctor directs his question to me.
“Of course.”
“Alright, so we’re here to talk about your treatment plan, right?” Dr. Patel asks.
“Yes,” I reply.
“Perfect. We talked a little bit about radiation and chemotherapy the last time I saw you, so we’ll go into more detail now that I’ve gotten the full report back from radiology. If at any point you have questions or concerns, feel free to stop me, okay?” He waits for a response, so I nod.
The doctor explains the difference between implant and external radiation, how it’s administered, and how long each treatment is. The longer he talks, the more nervous I get. The procedures seem so invasive and scary. Then I roll my eyes at myself. This is cancer, not a bruised knee. It has to be invasive.
“What about chemo?” I ask.
“Chemotherapy can be done concurrent to radiation. The strategy would be to make radiation therapy more effective by aiding in killing the cancer cells. We’ll do this in what we call cycles. We’ll administer chemo one to four days at a time, allowing you a period of rest between each cycle.”
“How long would I need treatment for?” I ask.
“Treatment runs anywhere from four to six weeks. Given that it’s at a stage two and already in two locations, I would recommend going after it aggressively for six weeks to ensure we get it all.”
“What are the side effects?” Sean asks, startling me slightly. I glance at him and he grabs my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. I already know what the side effects are. I’ve researched it extensively and none of them are pleasant.
Nausea, vomiting, hair loss, fatigue.
The doctor repeats the list I have memorized.
“Chemotherapy also lowers your blood count and can affect your ability to fight infections. Something small can escalate very quickly, which can result in delaying treatment.”
I glance at Sean to see if he’s as overwhelmed as I am. He reminds me of a duck; calm above the water, but their feet are kicking a mile a minute. Sean’s composed on the outside, but I see the wheels in his head spinning.
“If I don’t go into remission, what do we do?” It’s the one thing on my mind. Do I get one shot at this before hope is lost?
“We’ll do the first round of treatment and send you in for scans after. If the cancer is still present, then we go to plan B, which could involve another round of radiation and chemotherapy, or surgery.”
Surgery.
What that means flashes through my mind, but is quickly shoved away. I can’t think that far ahead right now. I need to focus on what’s in front of me and take this a day at a time.
He talks about statistics and the chances of remission with each treatment. It’s a lot of information and my head starts pounding as I try to digest everything he’s said. But the thing I’m taking away from this is that I need to do radiation and chemotherapy to increase my odds, so that’s what I’ll do.
I decide on radical treatment where chemotherapy and radiation are done together. “Alright, let’s get you scheduled.” He looks at his computer for a second and says, “We’ll start you two weeks from now.”
The ride home is just as quiet as it was on the way to the doctor’s office. My first round of radiation and chemo will begin in two weeks and I’m beyond nervous thinking about it.
“I’ll have to tell work,” I say as I stare absentmindedly ahead of me. So far, I’ve avoided telling them what’s going on, but now it seems I’ll have no choice. “Hell, I don’t even have a boss right now since no one has filled in for Mr. Sanchez.”
Sean puts his hand on my knee and squeezes. “I’ll take care of it.”
I shake my head. “That’s nice of you to offer, but I want to keep us separate from my professional life.”
He’s quiet for a moment. I know it’s hard for him to sit back when he wants to step in, but he respects my boundaries and the need to do certain things on my own. “You’ll need to contact Tim Hughes, David’s boss, and notify him.”
Turning toward Sean, my lips pull into a tight smile, thankful for the space he’s giving me. “Thank you.”
He pulls up outside Scarlett’s apartment and puts the car in park. His jaw ticks as he stares straight ahead, his eyes unfocused. Finally, he blurts out, “Move in with me.” My mouth parts to respond, but he cuts me off. “Let me take care of you, Paige, please.”
I’m touched, I really am, but there’s so little I have control over in this situation so I have to hold on to it when I can. I don’t want him to watch me struggle and be sick. It’s not how I want him to picture me. With that in mind even though my heart is telling me yes, I say, “I can’t.”
The hurt of rejection is written over his whole body. “Why will you let Scarlett take care of you but not me?”
“I love you,” I whisper in the deafening silence as I open the door, ignoring his question all together.
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I love you too. More than anything.”
I thank him for coming with me, give him a kiss, and get out of the car. I don’t turn around and look back as he drives away for fear I’ll change my mind about going with him. If our time together is limited, then why the hell am I being so stubborn about this?
Because you could die.
And I don’t want that to be his last image of me.