I'm now almost two months into chemo and getting sicker by the day.
"Dad, I'm just gonna take a shower." I say, and slowly shuffle into the bathroom.
I take off my shirt and jeans and look in the mirror. I was now just skin and bones; you could count my ribs and see my heart beat through my skinny build. I look bare. No hair, no muscle, no fat. There's nothing left of me.
I climbed into the shower and sit on the shower stool the hospital gave us. The hot water poures over me, engulfing me. Suddenly I feel a surging pain in my lower abdomen. I try to stand up, and managed to stagger out of the shower, without slipping over. Falling to my knees in agonising pain, I heave and clutch my gut.
Suddenly everything goes black, and I assume I passed out.
I wake with Scott yelling my name from downstairs.
"Stiles, it's me." He shouts, and I hear him run up the stairs. He stops in his tracks and looks at me crumpled in a heap on the floor.
"Stiles what happened?" He asks, grabbing a towel and throwing it over my shivering body.
"It's called chemo, Scotty." I say as-a-matter-of-factly. His face drops and he kneels down beside me and strokes my hairless head.
"Here." He says, quickly pacing into my room and grabbing me some boxers which I manage to quickly pull on.
He helps me stand up and, carrying almost all of my weight, drops me onto my bed. He pulls out a long sleeve shirt and some sweatpants, and helps me climb into them. I continue to shiver, so Scott generously wraps his too big, baggy sweater around me and zips it up, as I pull on my beanie in the process, instantly warming me up.
"Thank you." I say, exhausted.
"It's nothing, man." He says, looking at me lying next to him.
"No, thank you. For everything. You haven't left once." I say, watching his reaction.
"Why would I?" He asks, "Stiles, you're my brother, without you I'm literally nothing." He says, which brings a tear to my eye that I don't bother to wipe away.
I continue to shiver though, despite now being under the covers and a blanket.
Scott stands up and walks round to the other side of the bed, takes off his shoes and climbs in next to me. Immediately I feel the warmth radiating off his body and onto me, which stops the shivering.
"Thanks." I mumble, my voice muffled by the blankets under my chin.
"Don't mention it." Is the last thing I hear him say before falling asleep.
🍃🍃
I have now finished another week of chemo, so am a week into three weeks of resting, and for once, I feel okay.
"Hey, Dad?" I ask, whilst we're sitting at the kitchen table.
"Yeah?" He answers, putting his newspaper down to look at me.
"Can I go to school today?" I ask nervously.
His face looks shocked, but pleased. "Wha? Well, yeah. I guess, do you feel okay?" He asks, astounded. I smile and nod, making my beanie wobble.
"Well, okay then. I'll give you a ride." He says. I thank him and go to get dressed and showered upstairs.
When I come back downstairs, my Dad's ready to go and we get in the car.
"Now, remember. Anything, anything at all, you call me, okay? I'll come and pick you up." He tells me, a hand on my shoulder.
"I know, Dad. I'll be fine." I assure him, but hold up my phone to satisfy him anyway.