"Alright, Jaime, just sit back and relax. The chair reclines if you want," the nurse in the chemo clinic was saying to Jaime. We'd come home on a Thursday and today was Monday. Four days between treatments had been a bit of a blessing for everyone. The sores in Jaime's throat healed more, he could keep soft foods down and he was feeling a little better. This, of course, was going to start everything all over again, but hopefully it wouldn't be as bad. Time would tell, I suppose.
Jaime lay back and pulled his earphones on over his beanie. He closed his eyes and turned on his music while I sat nearby and did some work, replying to emails, sending lyrics to Patrick, and discussing plans for touring. I'd decided Jaime would come on tour with me. He wasn't going to be in school, and any health issues we could manage on the road. I wanted him to see what I did. I wanted to give him that experience. We still didn't know the results of his latest scans.
At the end of the hour it took for the chemo to make its way into Jaime's frail body, I helped him up and we headed down to the car. We were reminded to keep an eye out for fever or any other sign of infection.
"Jaime, you have an appointment with Dr. Jensen on Wednesday before your chemo," I reminded him. "We're supposed to get your scan results."
"Okay," he said.
He climbed into the back seat and lay down. I got in the car and drove home.
Once home, Jaime asked to go to bed, but first we had a side tour to the bathroom for him to throw up. I sighed, rubbing his back as he heaved into the toilet.
"I hate this," he groaned, leaning back against me on the floor, until another wave of nausea sent him retching into the toilet.
I got him upstairs, put a bin beside his bed, and tucked him in.
"I'm sorry, Dad," he croaked out.
"For what?" I asked him.
"Getting sick. Getting cancer. Being a burden," he said.
"Jaime, you are not a burden. We all love you and we'll handle this. But you are not a burden. You didn't get sick on purpose. Don't apologize. You didn't choose this."
"Fuck no. Who would? This sucks ass," he said. I had to smile just a bit.
"Thanks for England though," he said. "I'm glad I got to go somewhere before..."
"Jaime, you're not going to die. We have no reason to believe that."
"I dunno, Dad. I don't know how long I can keep doing this," he said, his eyes closing. Tears came to my eyes. I sat on the bed and took Jaime's hand.
"Please, Jaime. Don't give up. You promised you'd fight. Keep fighting."
"I'll try," he said, as he drifted off to sleep. I sat and watched him for a while before getting up and heading downstairs to my office. Meagan was in the kitchen cleaning up from Marvel's lunch.
"How's he doing?" She asked. I hung my head and shook it.
"Pete?" Meagan said, coming around the kitchen island and wrapping her arms around me.
"He's giving up," I said.
"What do you mean?" Meagan asked.
"He thanked me for taking him to England before..." my breath hitched. "Before he dies."
"Oh, Pete. He's just feeling bad because of the chemo. He doesn't mean it," Meagan said.
"I can't lose him," I cried.
"We won't," Meagan said, determination in her voice.
After a few minutes of her holding me, I wiped my eyes and gave her a kiss. I went downstairs to my office/studio and did some work. By the time we were due to go out on tour, Jaime would be getting chemo once a week. I was working with our tour manager and Jaime's doctors to set up chemo appointments along the tour. The guys were totally behind me on this. We'd booked off days for Jaime's chemo as much as possible. A few dates would have us at the hospital then off to sound check where Jaime would likely be back on the bus tossing his cookies and sleeping. I thought it might give Meagan and the kids some reprieve as well.
Later in the evening, after we'd eaten dinner but before any of the kids were heading up to bed, Jaime came downstairs. Marvel ran up to him.
"Careful, Marvel," Meagan warned.
"Hi Jaime! You better?"
"Hey, Mar," Jaime said, weakly. "I'm okay."
"Are you hungry, Jaime?" Meagan asked. "I can fix you something."
"No, thanks," he said. "I was just tired of being in my room alone."
Jaime made his way into the living room where the boys were playing Xbox.
"Hey. Want to play?" Bronx asked, holding his controller out.
"No, thanks," Jaime said, sitting in a chair and leaning back. He was pale and had dark circles under his eyes. I knew that as much as he slept, it wasn't great sleep on chemo days.
Jaime lay back and watched his brothers play their video games. Marvel very quietly climbed her way into Jaime's lap and he put his arms around her. She looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back at her.
"Okay, Marvel, bedtime," I said about an hour later.
"I want Jaime to put me to bed," she insisted. I looked over and Jaime had fallen asleep.
"Jaime's asleep," I whispered. "How about I put you to bed?"
Marvel looked up and saw Jaime was indeed asleep. She frowned and carefully climbed off Jaime's lap. He startled awake.
"Sorry, Mar," he mumbled.
"Is okay, Jaime," she said, sadly, looking up at me. I smiled sadly back at her.
As I was putting her to bed I noticed she was much quieter than usual.
"Something on your mind, Pumpkin?" I asked her.
"Daddy, why Jaime is no fun?" She asked. "He try to be, but he not."
"Jaime's still sick, sweetheart. And the medicine makes him very tired and makes him feel sick, so he doesn't have a lot of energy. Hopefully, soon, he'll start feeling better and he'll be more fun."
"I miss fun Jaime," Marvel said. I couldn't blame her. I did too.