When the nightmares started again the weekend before resuming chemo, I wasn't even surprised. We'd talked about it in therapy a bit, the likelihood they would come back as it loomed closer. I'd even had Karlie come to a session with me so we could talk through how I was feeling together. It had been a good session, and an important one, but also draining, emotionally and physically. When we'd gotten home after, we'd just laid on the bed, holding each other, lost in our own heads, trying to process all the things we'd said, the fears we'd put to words. It wasn't easy for either of us to say aloud the things we worried about. I was particularly concerned about getting infusions three days a week. Given how strongly I usually reacted to day one, it seemed disingenuous to have more infusion days in the name of keeping me stronger through the next round of chemo, but I knew my team at the hospital wouldn't be trying it if they didn't think it would work. I didn't want to have to be admitted. The hospital was boring, but yet, strangely full of activity. I was willing to seclude myself in my house and never leave over spending weeks in the hospital, even send the cats back to Martha's place. But more than anything, I didn't want to risk infection again.
That was, I think, the basis of the first dream. I dreamed I was performing, at the center of a huge stadium, surrounded by fans holding signs and waving glowsticks, but it was like the dream was on mute. I couldn't hear the crowd, and when I strummed the guitar hanging from my back, I heard no sound. I shouted for them to turn up my in-ears, but nothing changed. I popped out the right one, figuring seventy percent loudness would be better than silence, but there was still no change no matter what I did. I woke up to Karlie shaking my shoulder. I'd apparently been screaming in my sleep and scared her. I'd rolled over so my right ear was in the pillow, so I hadn't been able to hear her call my name, which didn't exactly make a dream about being trapped in absolute silence any easier to deal with. She'd been so sweet to stay up with me just talking for an hour after that, proving that I could still hear her, but she had her own crap to deal with, still battling with her team to figure out a schedule that would allow her to not completely stop working while she took care of me.
She'd come home that night emotionally exhausted and cranky and we'd fought over stupid, petty shit that had escalated to me throwing things and her calling me a bitch and going for a run that lasted three hours and ended with her sheepishly calling me to send a car because she was somehow in Prospect Park and she was so, so sorry. I hated the fact that while she'd been running across Manhattan, and apparently the Brooklyn Bridge, I'd finally been able to write a song the way I used to, when I was a teenager and everything that happened to me was grounds for an emotional breakdown and therefore a song. It had taken me less than half the time she'd been gone to get it written and a demo recorded, and I knew the fans would love the way it used the harsh electric guitar to evoke the way my emotions felt, raw and unbridled and angry. But I hated that we'd had to fight to get me back into the music room. I hated even more how surprised I was when she called because I'd just figured she'd come home a while ago and was waiting for me to emerge so we could talk, because she knew I was processing my emotions the way I did so she could process hers the way she did and we could finally talk about what we'd really been angry enough once they were out.
The second nightmare came that night. She left me. It was all too much and she told me she was leaving while I was face first in the toilet heaving up everything I'd eaten ever, or so it seemed, and when I looked up all I could see was her flawless ass walking away from me with a suitcase, and she refused to turn around when I called her name and every time I tried to stand up and run after her I would feel sick again and have to go right back where I started. That one was so real that when I woke up, this time crying more than screaming, I actually was halfway to the bathroom to throw up when I realized that my stomach was fine, though I was having trouble stemming the tide of tears flowing down my face. She assured me, of course, that although she might have run, and farther than anticipated or than she should have, she would always come home. That she'd meant every word of the vows she'd made, and that even when she was angry, she would only leave long enough to cool down and talk rationally. Intellectually I knew that was true. Karlie was the most loyal person I knew, and I couldn't imagine her just walking out on me. Even if she hated me, she'd give me warning.
The next night, I discovered I wasn't the only one struggling. Karlie wasn't as prone to nightmares, outbursts of emotion or anxiety as I was, but that night when I woke at about three a.m. I discovered her half of the bed empty, a trail of turned-on lights leading the way to the workout room, working her way through a series of yoga poses. At a loss as to what to do, I decided to join her, and we posed in parallel. It felt odd to work out in pajamas, but there really wasn't any reason we couldn't. She stopped abruptly in the midst of a warrior series to come over and wrap me tight in her arms, a hug so strong it almost felt like she was trying to crack a rib. And then she'd kissed me deeply and led me back to our room to deepen it into something more, and I'd been left breathless and satisfied but also curious about her choices in stress relief in the early morning hours. Though there had been sounds of pleasure, the only words spoken came as we lay curled together, exhausted anew by our various workouts, when she said "you'll always be my Taylor" before passing out.
I didn't get the chance right away to ask what in the world had brought that on, as our morning was something of a disaster. Karlie had somehow turned off her alarm or forgot to set it and had completely slept through a fitting for Diane Von Furstenberg and had rushed out without even bothering to shower to grovel and apologize and try not to get fired. She'd returned in the evening bearing takeout, the sunshiny smile on her face a complete turnaround from where we'd been in the middle of the night, and definitely a change from how stressed she'd been in the morning, when I'd wondered if her brow would ever unfurrow from under the bangs she was still wearing to hide the scar from December's Christmas décor fail.
It was fading, slowly, from bright angry red to ever softer pink, and I'd noticed we both had a tendency to stand in the mirror side by side as we applied scar cream and compare the healing process for our various marks. The scar at my throat was still taking its sweet time fading from view. I was used to it now, no longer grimacing when I caught it in the mirror. I no longer looked like the near victim of a botched throat-slitting attack, and my port insertion scars were healing as well. The worst one was the one on my back from the infection, both because it was recent and because it wasn't the nice flat line of a planned incision, but rather an uneven pucker created as they carefully worked their way around the pocket of infected tissue trying not to let it burst and spew even more bacteria through my body. I caught Karlie sometimes running her thumb over the spot where the scar was raised, through my shirt. I didn't think she did it consciously, but it happened to fall near where her hand would naturally lay across my back anyway. It was weird, this subtle reminder. I was pretty sure it would be a thing when we were old and gray, if I lived that long.
Diane's people had been completely understanding. They'd worried that something was wrong, that I was sicker, again, than usual, or that she'd hurt herself. But they also understood the stress she was under, and though pushing back the fitting to the afternoon had been inconvenient, it hadn't been the end of the world. She'd also talked to her therapist, about the fact we were both having nightmares, and had come out of that meeting feeling good, since her yoga method of coping had been praised, though using words in addition to the physical would be even better. But at least she'd done something productive to cope, which made her feel she might be able to do it again. She did tell me about the dream that had woken her up and sent her off to do yoga at three in the morning. I wasn't dead, this time, which was nice I guess. But I was sicker than I'd ever been, even when I'd had the infection. But this time, she'd been able to tell something about it wasn't real, which is how she'd been able to calmly get up and work out instead of waking up screaming. I was proud of her for that. Being able to tell it wasn't real. I hadn't quite mastered that myself.
* * *
There was something almost comforting about reporting to the oncology floor again. Because weirdly, going back to chemo meant I was healthy. You know, for someone with cancer. It all felt so familiar, yet so alien. I wore a mask from day one. Part of the increased caution around my immune system. My team was the same as always. Andy and Deshawn burst into the room before Karlie and I could even begin to get settled shouting "CREAM FILLING!!!!" and sandwiched me between them in a huge hug. I realized I hadn't seen them since I was discharged from the hospital, when they'd come to check up on me after I began to recover. I hadn't missed this place, or the way my stomach reflexively turned over just entering the ward, but I had, indeed, missed them. I'd seen only the members of my team who had letters like MD after their names for my planning meetings, so this was nice, reuniting, although I thought it might have been even nicer to go bowling or something. They had a port access kit with them but stepped back to let Karlie give it another supervised go before we tried it on our own on Wednesday.
I tried to remember the steps too, just in case, because Karlie had enough to do without also trying to read the instructions. I tucked my scarf out of the way and pulled my shirt down as far as I could, trying to give her maximum working space. I kept my right hand free just in case she needed me to hold something while she carefully put on the gloves under the watchful eyes of my team. They'd scheduled me to come in a little early, and I had another long afternoon in the hospital planned, just like my first infusion months ago. They had to observe how the new cocktail and I got along, and the new infusion rate was much slower as well to try to reduce the effects and keep me stronger. They knew it would take Karls a lot longer to access my port than Andy who quite frankly would have had the needle in before Karlie even got the gloves on. I'd used numbing cream before we left the house, more for her benefit than my own. It really only hurt for a second when she put the needle in, but since the part she struggled with the most was the idea she might hurt me, I figured letting her numb it wouldn't hurt anything.
She carefully cleaned the area starting at the port and spiraling outward, just like they'd told her the first time. The goal was for it to be just her and I talking though it, with the team only stepping in if she forgot something important or was doing something unsafe. She had a hard time getting the needle out of the package with her gloves on, so the team said it was possible for me to peel apart the plastic as long as Karlie was the only one to touch the contents, and as long as her glove didn't make contact with my hands at all. We tried it and it worked pretty well, actually, though I had to anchor my shirt under my left elbow before I could try to use both hands on the plastic wrapping of the needle. She still got it in on the first try, though in fumbling to attach the saline syringe to test the placement she almost pulled it back out, which freaked her out and almost made her pull it out in her panic. Still, she had it in perfectly, the saline pushing through easily and strong blood return when she pulled back. She slid the sterile gauze under the flaps she used to grip the needle for comfort and placed the dressing over top. It was a little wrinkled, but not uncomfortable and still sealed, just not as tightly as sometimes, and as it didn't need to last longer than the day, it didn't really matter. I couldn't shower with it like that, but I wasn't planning to until it was de-accessed anyway, so no harm done. Most importantly, other than coaching us through how to let me help, the team hadn't had to intervene at all.
I could see how proud of herself Karlie was when she earned high-fives from all three of us once she'd disposed of all the wrappings and her gloves. I hadn't felt it at all, which I knew made it a better experience from her perspective. Andy quickly stepped in to do the pre-chemo blood draw, just to make sure my numbers were where we needed them to be, and then Karlie and I had some time to ourselves while we waited for the results. The following Monday we would use this lull in the action to head to radiology for Dr. Park's team to run radiation, but today was just about getting chemo started again. I didn't like having time to wait around, but that's just part of the process.
"Is it weird, being back here?" She asked me, cuddling up to me on the bed. We were planning to watch a movie while we waited, knowing there was going to be a good bit of lead time before we even started pre-meds, and then lots of waiting around during the longer infusion. If all went well, I wouldn't have quite the same violent reaction to the chemo I'd been having to the old regimen, and would maybe feel a bit better as well. If that was the case, I might actually be able to spend my afternoon doing more than just sleeping and vomiting, which would be a plus. Makenna came in to give me a hug and bring me a home-made blueberry muffin, figuring I should eat while I could, even if I risked getting to see it again later. Dr. Miller brought the results of the blood test herself, having wanted to be really on top of it going into this round. The numbers were the best I'd had since before the very first cycle, so even though I hated it, the break and the white cell booster had done their jobs.
I was taking different pre-meds as well, a stronger antihistamine to prevent a reaction because that was one of the risks of upping one of the drugs I was on, developing an allergy to it. Having gone through one reaction to the adhesive in the dressing over my port, I had no interest in repeating that experience with a medication reaction as well. That didn't sound pleasant at all. The pre-med infusion lasted longer, with the result being I actually fell asleep. I didn't even wake up when they switched over the drip to include the new chemo meds. It was nice, in a way, sleeping through the first hour and a half of the infusion. Even when I woke up, I didn't feel immediate nausea. I didn't want to let myself get too complacent and think it wasn't going to happen, but just waking up, with chemo flowing into my body and not feeling totally awful, that I liked.
The infusion itself was scheduled to last six hours, with a three-hour waiting period after the IV bags were empty. It was, actually, a gentler infusion than I was used to. I didn't throw up for the first two hours, though shortly after I woke up from my nap, I began to feel the effects. A new one that I hadn't had before is that it made me feel really, really warm. I was stripping off clothes down to a tank top and a pair of shorts that were in my bag of alternate clothes. These days, we always brought extras in case of vomit incidents, but this was the first time I'd ever had to take clothes off for temperature reasons. I've always been cold. In the summer, it wasn't unusual for Karlie to be wearing capris and a tank top while I wore long pants and a sweater. But here I was, even taking my scarf off to expose maximum skin to the air. When I told Makenna about it, she pushed some more antihistamine into my drip, concerned that the warmth might be a precursor to an allergic reaction. She also brought me a popsicle, the first time I could remember eating something without being totally terrified during an infusion. Shortly after I finished the treat, it turned out the temperature change simply herald the usual stomach and intestinal symptoms, which hit nearly simultaneously.
By the end of the infusion, I almost didn't care I wasn't going straight home. The reaction had been as strong as ever, just delayed a bit. I was tired. I'd forgotten how much just sitting around attached to a drip could take out of me. I wasn't feeling any better about doing the at home infusions. I supposed it would be nice to be able to take off my clothes entirely if I wanted with only Karlie to see me, maybe even take a cold shower if we got the dressing on right. But since I was still having pretty bad reactions, doing it two more times a week wasn't exactly something I wanted. Getting home was lovely. Getting to lie on my own couch while Karlie made me some food for a dinner I didn't want to eat. Veggies and noodles, as close to chicken noodle soup as Karlie could get, knowing she'd end up eating most of it.
I hadn't missed our nights together on the air mattress in the bathroom, but the one upside was that I didn't end up having a need for it until the following morning, perhaps a side effect of the delayed and protracted infusion. But my Tuesday was actually mostly more pleasant than usual, I was less completely exhausted, able to actually help Karlie with lunch, though I still took both morning and afternoon naps. I was still really really warm, like I was having my own personal summer. Karlie was wearing long pants and a sweat shirt, while I wore shorts and a tank. Ed was in town supporting his new album and I really wanted to see him. Karlie was a bit nervous about it, he was in the middle of a tour and thus exposed to all kinds of germs, but he assured Karls that he would shower and let her take his temperature when he arrived, he just wanted to get to hang out with his best friend. She agreed, reluctantly, though once they hung up she told me she was actually looking forward to having him come over. I took some time to go down to the music room and re-string a couple of guitars. I wasn't sure I was ready to work, but Ed can't come over without us making some kind of music-adjacent noise, and I wanted to at least have things tuned, if only to make it more pleasant for me when he decided to fool around, though I realized there might be an advantage to hearing loss, as I could just turn off my hearing aids if he decided to persist even with everything out of tune.
Karlie came down as I was finishing up the second guitar, and when I looked up I caught her with this fond look on her face. "Thinking of playing tonight?" she asked, coming over to sit beside me on the couch where I'd been tuning the last guitar. She kissed the top of my head, bare for the cooling effect.
"If I don't, Ed will," I smiled and then met her lips with mine. "I promise. No rage. I think I'm calibrated pretty well, actually. But if not, I know Dr. Reddy can do some more work to get it there." She pulled me close and we sat like that for a few moments, just enjoying the comfort of being together. Sometimes silence can be beautiful when you share it with the love of your life.
We were interrupted by my phone ringing on the top of the piano, Ed calling to say he was about to turn onto our street and did we want to come get him or send him the door code? Karlie went down to greet him, admonishing me to stay upstairs until she was sure he was safe. She really did make him shower in the bathroom by the front door, which I thought was ridiculous, but she had to do what she thought was best, and as long as we got to hang out, and he didn't mind, I didn't see the harm. It gave me time to put on an old sundress that hadn't fit since I was a teenager and find a pretty scarf to go with. I'd found that I honestly felt better when I dressed up a bit. I was tired, from chemo, but I felt okay, and I was actually quite happy with the recovery time. I was nervous about doing an infusion ourselves the next day but if my team thought it was what was best, I had to trust them. And in the meantime, I felt good enough on a Tuesday to have a friend over, so I was happy with that.
He bounded up the stairs with energy I hadn't seen from my Teddy in years, and I was so happy to see him doing so well. He smiled broadly through his thick glasses and wrapped me in a tight hug. It was gratifying that he didn't treat me like I might break. We'd talked since I'd been out of the hospital, but not seen each other in person, and I didn't know how it would go. But it was still just Ed and Taylor, like always. As I turned away to lead the way into the kitchen where Karlie had set up stuff to make pizza, because everyone loves pizza, I was a bit startled to feel a calloused hand rub over my right shoulder.
"Fake," he said, and I realized he was noticing the latest design on my shoulder, a rainbow coming out of a smiling cloud. Karlie had put it on Sunday night before we went to bed. "Gonna get a real one, eh Tay?" he asked and I realized that if I got through this, I just might. I didn't know yet what design I would pick, but after everything I'd been through, the idea of tattoo needles wasn't so scary. And of all the things that had come out of this crazy rollercoaster, Karlie's unwavering support was definitely the one I was most eager to remember.
The three of us had a good time making pizzas. It was a good idea Karlie had, buying some dough from a local pizzeria and then letting us make our own with all different toppings. Hers, predictably, had more veggies than anything, with little bits of mozzarella thrown on just to hold it together, while Ed's put a Chicago deep-dish meat lover's to shame with the volume of meats on top of his crust. I went creative with barbeque chicken, mozzarella, onion and green apples. It was delicious, even if both my dining companions poked fun at my inclusion of apple on pizza. There was something really nice about sitting around the table with my wife and best guy friend, like we would have any time. Through all of this, other than helping me out by coming to chemo and having a minor meltdown when he saw my scans, Ed had always treated me the same as always. He'd never seen any need to act like I was fragile or about to break. I'd wondered if that would change after how sick I'd been but he still saw me the same.
He and I went down to the music room, just the two of us. Karlie said she'd come down later but she knew we needed some musician to musician time. He was my friend before I ever met her. He'd seen me through the mess that came before, celebrated with me when I found her and fell, hard, and been prepared to put me back together again if it didn't work out. He'd also been one of the first to offer support and approval once he met her, which is why it was so cool that he'd been able to be part of our wedding. But now things were different. I'd almost died. That was still a weird thing to think, but it was true. I'd come closer than I wanted to for another sixty years or so. I was a little apprehensive, being down there with one of my usual writing partners, for only the second time since I'd been home. It hadn't gone particularly well with Jack, and I didn't particularly want to repeat that experience with Ed, though I knew he'd be just as gracious about it as Jack had been.
Just like with Jack, I started out just sitting on the couch to talk. Unlike with Jack, the elephant in the room had already been addressed, at least a little. He knew about the effects of the antibiotics, and the hearing loss, though we hadn't talked in depth. I encouraged him to ask questions, to talk to me. But the main question he had was one I was still struggling to answer. "What's it like?" I could give him the clinical evaluation – 70% residual hearing on the right, 30% on the left. But that didn't fully explain it. I tried the 'ear-popping' analogy, but it still didn't fully explain what it was like not to be able to hear like I used to either. And then trying to explain how the hearing aids worked when I didn't fully understand myself, was tricky as well. His curiosity came from a place of love, and wanting to comprehend where I was, as his friend, sister, and cowriter, so it was welcomed. And he came up with an interesting way to try to approximate it, making use of the different channels on a sound board, which was a very Ed approach. By playing a song we both knew well through the sound board, he could run the sound output to headphones at a comfortable volume for himself, then reduce the different sides to the percentages I had.
That was weird. Watching him try his best to experience what I did. I wasn't sure I liked it. It was one thing to explain, but another to know he would understand the loss in a way almost no one else did. It made me feel very vulnerable. But it was the look on his face as he restarted the track with the volume adjusted downward to just 30% in the left channel and 70% in the right that broke my heart. I could see realization dawning on his face of exactly what my world sounded like without the hearing aids. And it wasn't pretty. I will give him credit. He never quite hit the 'pity face' that happens so often when people learn you've lost something, or have cancer, or a disability, or whatever. He didn't even listen to the whole song. Just pulled the headphones off and shook his head as if to clear it. We sat in silence for a bit, but then he began a new recording, and grabbed one of my guitars off a stand and began to strum an intricate melody. I knew him well enough to hear the pain in the notes, the depth of emotion behind them. I sat at the piano and added harmony, a repetitive sequence that could be looped, using the technique I learned from the musical genius across the room, so that I could move to the keyboard, layering in percussion. His melody was too lengthy to loop, so he continued to play himself while I threw in a final layer, electric guitar, more complex than he had ever heard me play. I'd been practicing when I could, knowing I wanted a harder edge for the next album. Something a bit more rock and roll, that showcased my ability to play in addition to lyrics and melody.
When Ed and I write, it is often spontaneous. We don't sit down anymore just intending to write a song. We just jam, and sometimes it becomes something useable and sometimes it gets added to the hours of recordings I've never used for anything. They all have titles, like "the one with the minor chords that sounds weirdly happy" or "after the key lime pie," that I use to try to find them again later if I want them. But this one I knew would be something. Probably mine, since there was a lot more angst happening in my world just now, and this was definitely going to be one of those heartrending songs that the fans adore but that are super hard to play live because emotion. And we hadn't even written the lyrics yet. Playing it back, especially the last bit that had all the instruments told me this was definitely going to be a full song. Ed could feel it too, I could tell, and despite the emotional beginning to the session, it ended on a strong high note, knowing we'd made something worth saving and improving on.
Upstairs, Karlie had decided to bake cookies while we'd been working, and the whole house smelled like chocolate. They were 'healthy,' made with applesauce and almond flour, but still really yummy, and a nice end to the day. Ed offered a strong bear hug on the way out the door, saying he was in town another day or two and to call if we needed anything. As soon as he'd gone, Karlie pulled me in and kissed my head. "You two write anything good?" She smiled brightly, a full-on sunshiny smile upon hearing that I thought we probably had. For the first time since all of this started, I thought I had finally come up with something album worthy. And for the first time in a while, I let myself believe that sooner rather than later, I'd be able to actually write and record and tour an album. I had a new adventure awaiting me in the morning, as Karlie would access my port and we would run an infusion from home, which wasn't exactly something I was looking forward to, but I'd had a good day with my girl and my best friend and the music, and there wasn't much more I could ask for anytime, cancer or not.
Author's Note:
Just in time for the end of April, I finally finish the first part, lol.
Wow y'all. Nearly 22K reads and more than 1200 votes. I am constantly amazed by your support. It's truly incredible and makes me so happy, so thank you, so much, from the bottom of my heart.
❤️💛💚💙💜
The bad news is, we are ever closer to the end of this story. The good news is, I've got like three other short fics in progress with my cowriter and partner in crime beachwolf92 so you won't have to wait too long once this ends for something new. They're all a little different and don't exist in the SLW universe (one is a *definite* AU) so you can look forward to those.
Until I manage to churn out the next part, I hope you all have lovely weeks! Thanks again for reading. 😘