What's Left Of Me Part 7

When you get chemo, the offices usually have a light side and a dark side. One half is where patients can sleep or rest, and the other half is where they can read or talk to other patients.

I choose the lighter side. I can't rest after my encounter with Parker. My body is still quivering from his touch, and as much as I try to come down from my Parker high, I can't stop smiling. His parting words, "It'll be fun," won't leave my mind. There is no doubt that working in the same s.p.a.ce as him will be anything less than fun.

I'm still trying to get over the fact that I let him practically take me on his desk like that. What the h.e.l.l is wrong with me? When he is near me, I'm no longer myself. I swear, he has some type of power over me. Okay, now my fictional life is becoming a part of my reality. Great! This is why my mom always tells me not to get so caught up in my books. Soon you won't be able to tell what's real and what's not because you'll just be living in that head of yours!

An hour later, the smile is finally wiped off my face as I reach for the trashcan and start to throw up. The nurse makes her way over to me and gives me something through my IV.

"There you go, honey. I gave you something for nausea. That should help."

I try to say thank you, but the heaving won't stop.

Normally the getting sick part doesn't happen until that night or the next day. Why it's happening now, I have no clue. Maybe it's the higher dosage of drugs. Maybe it's my nerves kicking in. I'm not sure.

After a short while, I stop throwing up just in time for Genna to show up.

"How are you doing?" She sits in the chair next to me, pulling out some crackers and apple juice and handing them to me.

Well, let's see! I have tubes going into my body that are hooked up to a machine pumping toxins into me to kill off cells, all while being completely nauseated. Yup, I'm fantastic. Pull out the tea and cookies. Let's have a party!

"I've had better days."

"I'm sorry. The nurse said you threw up already?"

"Yeah, I think it was just because I didn't have breakfast."

Even though I've been through this before, a part of me can't help but be scared. It's the unknown. I don't know what to expect this time. My oncologist, Dr. Olson, has tried to prepare me for this round of chemo, explaining that because it's a higher dose I'll be sicker than I've been before. The good news-yes, there's good news in all of this-is it should only last a week; maybe a little over. Then I'll feel fine until my next round. So, basically, I'll have chemo, be sick for a week, have a week of feeling okay, and then have chemo again. Oh, and that's all if it goes according to Dr. Olson's plan.

After just over three hours, I finally leave the clinic. The nurse sends me home with a few puke bags. I wish there was a better word for puking than vomiting or throwing up. Nothing sounds good. But, then again, it's not supposed to. It's an ugly word to describe a disgusting action.

I'm given another Zofran and a prescription for it before I go home. It's an anti-nausea medication that dissolves under my tongue, but it's not working.

I throw up the entire drive home. Genna offers comforting words while rubbing circles on my arm. Normally, having someone touch me while I'm sick is annoying, but in this case I don't mind.

Jason meets us outside when Genna pulls in. I'm guessing she called him at some point, and he decided to leave work. He opens my door and helps me out of the car with one arm around my waist. His other hand holds a larger bucket for me as I slowly walk into the house, stopping once to dry heave. My head is spinning and my abdominal muscles hurt badly from being clenched so tightly.

After Jason helps me onto the couch, Genna comes over with a large water bottle and soda crackers. I know I need to eat and drink something. The worst feeling is dry heaving. No one likes it. h.e.l.l, no one likes being sick either. And nothing is worse than being sick where nothing comes out except for nasty green stomach acid.

The rest of the day and evening pa.s.s by slowly. I throw up every fifteen minutes, or at least it feels like it. Genna keeps wiping my face with a cold washcloth, and Jason refills my ice water when needed. Neither leave my side all night. When I'm puking my guts out, someone is right there rubbing my back. When I get a side ache or neck cramp from being curled in the fetal position, one of them is right there rubbing the ache away.

I hate people taking care of me.

I hate feeling helpless.

I hate feeling lifeless.

But right now, I'm more than grateful for these two. And, as much as my muscles ache, and as exhausted as I am ...

I refuse to give in.

I refuse to back down.

I refuse to submit.

I refuse to cry.

Chapter Six.

I haven't paid attention to what day it is or to the activities happening around me. I've simply concentrated on trying to keep food and liquids down and make it through to the next hour, all while not leaving the comfy bed that has become my home the last few days. There are times I have just prayed to fall back asleep so that I won't have to feel the muscle cramps any longer.

Jason went to work the day following my treatment despite staying up all night with Genna taking care of me. He acted as if only getting two hours of sleep was nothing, and didn't complain once about sleep deprivation.

Genna hasn't left my side, catering to my every need. She brings me ice chips or water, food when it sounds appetizing, and even reads to me when I don't have the energy to hold a book or my Kindle any longer. When I suggest getting me a bell to ring when I need her, she responds by rolling her eyes. I, on the other hand, think it is a reasonable request, mainly to have some entertainment.

Everything that Dr. Olson told me I would feel following my first chemo treatment is true: nausea, headaches, fatigue, sore throat, and no appet.i.te. But what she didn't prepare me for were the mouth sores. It's funny how one ache goes away, just to be replaced with others.

I've had small mouth sores in the past, but never to this extent. Three days after chemo, I can barely open my mouth. My gums, the insides of my cheeks, and even the roof of my mouth are filled with open canker sores. I can barely speak, let alone eat or drink anything. When I try, I can feel the sores stretching and burning, causing tears to fill my eyes. Genna suggests I try sucking on ice cubes to help my mouth from getting too dry, and that seems to help.

Jason tries telling me about a home remedy of salt water and gurgling to make them disappear, but when was the last time he had nine canker sores in his mouth at one time? Salt water may be okay when it's just one, but nine? I don't think so.

When Monday comes, I finally feel as if I'm able to leave my room. I only make it halfway down the stairs when I need to stop and sit on the staircase. I can't stand that only walking ten feet makes me feel like I've just run a mile.

"Hey, you. You need some help?" Jason asks.

"Oh, no. I got it." And I do. I just don't know how long it will take me to make it to the couch that has been calling my name since the moment I stepped out of my bedroom.

"Okay. Well... I'll just be over there." He points behind him where the staircase opens to the living room. "If you need me."

"Thanks."

To the normal person, waking up on Mondays can suck. Let's face it: who enjoys having to wake up early on a Monday to start your week over again? For me, it is something I've missed. I swear, when I beat this cancer I will never complain about it ever again. Why? Because it means I'm healthy. It means that it is a day other than Sat.u.r.day. It means I have something to do, or somewhere else to be, other than at home, sick and feeling helpless.

After what feels like twenty minutes of just sitting on the steps, Jason finally walks over and helps me the rest of the way down.

"Thank you," I say as he helps me to the couch.

"No problem. What good would these muscles be if not to sweep pretty ladies off their feet?"

I laugh. I love Jason's sense of humor and his ability to lighten any mood. My sister did well.

"Hey you. Good morning," Genna says, walking in with a cup of coffee. "Do you want some coffee?"

"Please."

"Coming right up."

Looking at Jason, I ask, "What time are you heading in this morning?"

"A little later. Looks like Genna got called in to sub today, so I'll be taking you to your lab appointment. Then I'll head in. Parker is working my morning schedule into his."

"Oh... That's nice of you ... and him." Not only is Parker extremely good-looking, smart, and great in bed, he's thoughtful too. Of course he is.

"Here you are." Genna hands me the perfect cup of coffee.

I take a small sip and savor the hot, sweet, vanilla taste. It's my first cup of coffee since last Wednesday, and man, does it tastes like heaven.

"Sorry I can't stay home today. I feel awful, but I got called in. I might have to go in tomorrow too."

"Don't worry about it. I might just go hang at the office today after my lab draw."

"Really?" they both ask at the same time.

"Well, I mean, I just thought it would give me something to do. I'm tired, but I really just need to get out. I don't feel sick, so maybe I can just do some light desk work or something?" Maybe see Parker? "Nothing big," I continue, "Just something I can do at my own pace in your office?" Like look at Parker? Wait ... I don't want to look at Parker. Do I? Yes, I do! "If that's okay, Jason?" I give him a big toothy grin like a twelve year old.

"Yeah, I mean, sure. That would be great. You can definitely sit in my office. It's quiet and private. No one will bother you. I have a few small items I definitely need help with."

"Thanks."

"Dre, are you sure you feel okay?" Genna asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Really." I don't know if I'm trying to convince her or myself, but I need to do something. I hate feeling defenseless. I want to be strong.

If I show it, then maybe I'll feel it.

I have a quick lab appointment to check my white blood count, which comes back borderline good. Usually this is done right before your chemo treatment, but Dr. Olson requested I have one done five days after. She also wants my hemoglobin and iron checked, which come back okay. The nurse makes a call to Dr. Olson to double-check the numbers and to get an order for some medication to try before my next round of chemo to help with the nausea. She also got an order for something to swish in my mouth for the canker sores and to help prevent me from getting thrush-a yeast infection in my mouth. Nasty!

Dr. Olson is okay with my numbers and tells me the only time I'll need lab draws again will be the mornings of each of my next treatments.

While waiting in the car for Jason to pick up my prescriptions, I attempt to apply some makeup. I need to hide the dark circles under my eyes and add a little color to my cheeks. By the time I'm done bringing some life back to my face, Jason is back.

"I called Shannon when I was in the pharmacy. She's getting some charts together that need to be scanned into the new computer system. I asked if she could get everything hooked up in my office. I only have six appointments this afternoon, and then a small procedure to do, so as soon as I'm done, we'll head out. Okay?"

"That sounds great. Thanks."

"Oh, and no need to rush on the charts. Take your time. If you don't feel up to it, don't worry."

"Okay."

When we arrive at the clinic, Jason walks with me slowly toward his office, even though I tell him multiple times I've got it. Shannon calls from behind us that his one o'clock is ready to be seen. I convince him I'll be okay, so he heads right into the exam room. When I pa.s.s by Parker's office, I can't help but look inside to see if he is there. When I see that the office is empty I find myself a little disappointed. As I turn my head away from the office and take a step down the hall, I smack right into a rock-hard chest, which makes me grunt in the most unflattering way possible.

"Looking for me?" His deep voice rumbles through me.

Peeling myself off him, I try to pretend I did not just grunt in front of him. Embarra.s.sed, I try to play the situation off like nothing happened. "No, I was making my way to Jason's office."

"And, you thought you could get there by going through mine?"

"No. I was ju-"

"Looking for me." He says it as a statement.

"No."

"Uh, huh."

"I wasn't."

"So I heard." He just smirks at me.

I throw my hands in the air. "Fine! I was looking to see if you were here. Happy?"

"Very. And what may I help you with this beautiful afternoon?" There's a smile in his voice, but his face turns all business before he continues in a serious manner. "Because if you're looking to kiss me again then I'll need to remember to keep breath mints on me for these chance encounters."

I blush, which causes him to go into a full-fledged toothy smile. "Ugh, I wasn't coming in here to kiss you!" Not that I would mind kissing you.

"If that's what makes you sleep better at night, you go right ahead and keep telling yourself that."

"I don't want to kiss you, Parker." I hope I sounded convincing. I so badly want to smile at him. I know he can't see the canker sores in my mouth, but I'm still aware of their presence.

His mouth drops open, and his hand goes to his chest in a defensive manner.

"Oh, don't act like I just wounded you," I say as I push past him slowly and make my way into Jason's office. Once I'm there, I start to pant, trying to catch my breath. That short distance just felt like a marathon, but I don't let that stop the smile that so badly wants to come out.

"I would have made it worth your while!" he calls down the hallway, which causes my smile to grow bigger.

Jason is in the process of converting the practice to electronic records. I didn't realize all the formalities a vet clinic takes in ensuring the privacy of its animal patients. I have to sign privacy forms indicating I won't share or copy any of the information I'm seeing after I finish the proper paperwork to make me an official employee.

Shannon is extremely helpful, answering all my questions and showing me what needs to be scanned and where. After two hours, I'm ten charts in and finally getting the flow. Apparently, ten charts in two hours aren't a lot, considering Shannon has done triple that amount. While I'm slowly working away, a light knock comes from the office door. I figure it is Shannon coming in again, so I don't take my eyes off the computer screen or my hand off the mouse that is clicking away.

"That doesn't look like scanning to me."

I jump at the sound of the voice coming from over my shoulder. "Parker! You scared the s.h.i.t out of me!"

He lets out a small laugh, making his way to the opposite side of the desk. I watch as he takes a seat, leaning back and putting his feet on the desk, making himself at home.

"I didn't picture you as a hockey fan."

"Excuse me?"

He points at the computer. "The Minnesota Wild website."

"Oh, um, yeah, I'm a fan." Why do I always sound incoherent around him? I can't seem to think or speak clearly. And, to make matters worse, I blush easily. It's as if I'm constantly on fire around him.

"Me too."