Dying to Live

Chapter 17

⏳ ZOE, May

I spent time in oncology during my days as a nursing student. I thought that would prepare me somewhat for the next few days after Adam's first round of chemotherapy. I'd spent the days leading up to it trying to find out everything I possibly could about his particular type of cancer, and it turned out there was hardly any research on it at all. There weren't enough documented cases, and even fewer survivors, for doctors to write extensively about it.

I'd done my research on the effects of chemo and how to help as the partner of somebody going through treatments. I'd talked to people on message boards, and one man (I only knew him as raymond62) even reached out to me personally by private message to talk to me about his wife's treatments and the things he did to make her life a little bit easier during the days following chemo.

Yes, I'd done a lot in hopes of readying myself for everything to come, but there was nothing I could do to prepare myself for the toll watching him go through all of that would have on me emotionally.

When we got back to his place after his treatment, he seemed in pretty OK spirits. He joked around the way he always did and we even spent time outside on the porch swing, playing fetch with Joplin. His mother called a few times to check in and I spent most of the evening texting with her back and forth. Calvin came over after he was done at work and stayed for a while to play video games with his little brother, but he didn't stay too long. By eight o'clock Adam was more than ready to go to bed.

So I spent the evening by myself in the living room, looking at his photos on Instagram. He had a few new ones since this morning. I was in the first one, smiling at the camera with his arm around my shoulders and his lips pressed against my cheek. The second was taken at the hospital, displaying the IV in his arm. The caption was simple enough. It read: 'fuck cancer', with a few appropriate emojis to describe his mood. I read the comments section and smiled a little. There were so many people sending out positive vibes and letting him know they were praying for him.

It was midnight when I finally decided to go to bed, even though I knew I probably wouldn't fall asleep for hours. I climbed in next to Adam, trying to be as quiet as possible. I might've been the one to wake him, or maybe he was already awake. Either way, when I rolled over to face him, his eyes were wide open and he was staring at me.

"How are you feeling?" I whispered.

"Fucking terrible, zero out of ten, I do not recommend," he replied, his voice coming out strained and rough. I watched him scoot a little closer to me in the dark.

I didn't know whether or not he'd want me to touch him and I wasn't going to risk it. I knew from past experiences in the hospital that he didn't always like physical contact while in pain or just feeling bad, not by nurses and not even by his own mother. But this time around he snuggled up against me immediately, like it was instinct for him to do so. He draped his arm over my belly and lay his head down on my chest. I wrapped my arms around him. I spent the next few hours stroking his hair and running my fingers up and down his back.

"Will you still love me when I'm disgusting and bald?" he asked softly at one point, long after I thought he'd fallen asleep.

"Yes, Adam. I'll love you with everything I've got," I whispered back.

"Will you still want to fuck me?" he asked with just the slight edge of humor behind the words.

"Probably, yeah, most likely," I giggled despite the tightness in my throat and the tears prickling behind my eyelids.