MADELYN SHEEN
Round two of chemo started two days ago and I expected to go back to my normal, cautious, isolated self. I don't think I did though.
My scans came back exactly the same. That's not good, but it's not horrible either. If nothing has changed by the end of the cycle, then worry. If things get worse before the cycle ends, then worry a lot. Right now, it's out of my control.
That's something Jordan taught me to say. I let him convince me that it's okay to admit defeat. To be honest, despite my best attempts to prevent it, he's had a weird impact on me. It's scary, letting somebody in without even trying to. Change happens slowly, maybe that's why I didn't notice it at first, but I have a friend. I have something more than a friend. And it's out of my control.
As of right now, I want nothing more than to see him, but I'm too weak. I can't keep anything down, can barely stand, I feel half dead all the time. This round hit a lot harder. I'm hoping I'll be able to see him when his next appointment comes up either. That's how I know I've changed. Because instead of obsessing over the thought of germs and weakened immune systems, I am fantasizing about kissing him again.
I told my dad that we met online through friends that he thinks I have. Sometimes he steps out of the room so I can talk to him in privacy which I appreciate more than he will ever know. Nurse Kate teases me whenever she catches me blushing at my phone. I don't mind. It feels good to be this involved with something other than cancer. It feels eye opening. I think back to what Kate said when I asked if I was doing it right. She said I wasn't satisfied. I'm still not, but I think I'm improving. I think I'm getting the hang of it.
Right now I am just letting the world turn which I've never done before, but it feels really good. I text Jordan every chance I get, which is often considering I'm not very mobile at the moment. He seems distant today. He's not the kind of person you ask what's wrong though, so I just try to seem peppy despite my less than stellar state of being.
I think we both have made a silent agreement to try things each other's way and I don't hate it. I know my boundaries, I'm aware of my limits. He's persuasive, but he won't push me into doing something I'm uncomfortable with. He scares me beyond belief, but in a way I've come to appreciate. I really like him. That said, I also like the system I had before. The system of putting nothing ahead of recovery. I still plan on living by those guidelines, but maybe with a side project, it could be fractionally more enjoyable.
"We have got to get out of this room," my dad sighs abruptly. I look at him, knowing he's right, but dreading the idea of dragging my aching body out of bed. "Come on," he urges, pushing the wheelchair up next to me. This time I don't fight him, I just swing my legs over the bed and slowly lower myself into the chair.
Once settled and relatively certain I'm not gonna be sick, he pushes me out of the room and into the hallway. I'm wearing this lovely face mask with these golden sunflowers. I've had it since my first ever round of chemo and it's a little childish, but I like to cling onto those types of things.
We go down an elevator, not bothering to check what floor we're on. My dad is just pushing me slowly down the halls of various wings, looking around as though we're sightseeing. He doesn't want me going downstairs to the lobby and being around all those people, and it's not Friday so I don't really mind if there's no chance of seeing Jordan anyway. We round a corner to where the nurses sit, typing on computers and answering phones. My dad spots Dr. Jem and I suddenly realize we aren't just moving aimlessly. He was looking for him.
My dad sometimes gets worried about me in the times when things are actually going okay. He has a habit of hounding Dr. Jem for more information than he is capable of knowing. I feel bad for the guy. I feel bad for both of them really.
"One second," dad says, but when he talks to Jem the conversations always take a while.
As soon as he parks my chair, my phone buzzes and I snatch it hastily, I'm disappointed to see that it is not Jordan's name lighting up my screen. It's my mom. I slide to answer anyway and like there's a little switch in my mind, I put on my best attitude. The peppiest version of myself.
"Hey Maddie!" she chirps and it's not until she uses my nickname that I remembered people call me that. My dad and nurse Kate know I hate it, and it's as though Jordan had never even considered it an option. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy that would abbreviate. He has the patience to muddle through the full three syllables.
"Hey mom," I return, trying to match her enthusiasm. I know jail isn't as fun as she makes it out to be, but I let her believe that I'm convinced.
"How are you love?" she inquires. It's part of her routine. She calls, she greets, she questions, she sighs, then she claims she has to hang up, whether it's true or not.
"I'm alright. A little uncomfortable right now, but it's not out of the ordinary," I didn't mean to sound so helpless and pitiful. It's kind of hard not to sometimes.
I can practically hear her frown as she says, "I'm sorry Maddie."
She says my name a lot when we speak. She didn't used to do that, but I think she does it now because she thinks she's reminding me that she's here and she hasn't forgotten about me. She likes to tell me that she thinks of me everyday, and I never say it, but I think about her a lot to. I want to tell her more than just the surface information that gets relayed to her. It's not fair that she's on the outside of her own daughter's life. She deserves to know about people like Jordan, but it just seems like a weird thing for me to bring up. It's just not the type of thing we talk about anymore.
I want to subtly work him into the conversation because he's becoming something of a boyfriend and of course she should know that. So I ask, "What's new with you?", hoping she'll ask me the same thing in return.
"Nothing much. Wishing I was in solitary confinement some days. My cell mate it a nightmare," she whispers the last part as though said cell mate might be near by, but she's just messing around. My mother's humor is basic and not very funny, but I appreciate it none the less. "What about you? Any adaptions in the wild life of Madelyn?"
I smile at the use of my full name and I grip the opportunity to talk about Jordan. "Yeah actually," I begin, "there's this-"
I stop mid sentence as a rush of people appear out of the elevator. A gurney is pushed hurriedly down the hall with this boy on it, I crane my neck to look at him, but I've never seen him before. He must have just been brought in. There's blood staining the sheets around him and he's laying perfectly still. Dead still. He's paler than anybody should ever be and the doctors pushing the gurney are shouting over each other and I can't make out a single word. They pass me and I can smell the blood. I gag and barely pull myself out of the chair and to a small trashcan before I throw up.
As though in slow motion, the crowd of people break apart just enough for me to get a good look at the boy's full body. He's clothes are soaked in a mix of water and blood. His hair sticks to his forehead in thick clumps. His chest doesn't rise or fall. He doesn't shiver, despite his blue lips. Everything about him looks so still and calm, yet everything surrounding him is chaos. It's weird to think that death isn't the storm itself, but the calm that comes before. Everything after is the storm. The death is action that sets the endless results into motion.
I finishing emptying my stomach and quickly swipe the back of my hand over my mouth. I breath heavily, watching as the doctors and the boy disappear around a corner. I spit into the trashcan and look up to find my dad kneeling beside me and a few nurses offering to help. My dad is used to me being sick so he waves them off and helps me back to the chair. He keeps glancing down the hall, in the direction all the chaos went, as though they might turn around and come back. I'm still reeling from the sight. I still feel sick from it.
I pick up the phone again and my mom is repeating my name over and over waiting for a response, "Hello?" She says and I take a deep breath before responding.
"Sorry, just some hospital emergency." I try to make it sound lighthearted, but the shock in my voice seeps through.
"Is everything alright?" she quizzes and I wish I had a minute to compose myself, but I don't. Which means I have to gather myself quickly.
"Yeah," I assure, a little more convincing this time. "Yeah everything's fine. Look I'm really sorry to waste your call, but I've gotta let you go."
"I understand. Tell your dad I said hi."
"Will do, love you."
I hang up before she can reply. I feel crazy bad for it too, but I'm more in my head than I am in the real world which is unusual for me.
As my dad pushes me back to my room there is a heavy silence that I don't dare break. Even if I wanted to speak, it seems inappropriate to indulge in lively conversation after witnessing something like that. I suddenly realize how Jordan must have felt and the guilt I feel is greater then the guilt I've ever felt for putting my dad through the things I put him through.
My dad parks my chair and I don't hesitate to pull myself out of it and walk to the bathroom to brush my teeth. For some reason it is very important to me that he doesn't help me with anything tonight, no matter how weak I may be. I think I feel this way because even though I'm pretty bad off, that kid was in much worse shape and I want to remind myself that I have it okay right now. There is somebody in this world who I have it better than right now. It's the first time I've thought about it. I might be dying, but I have it better than a lot of people. It's a kind of selfish thought, it makes me pity myself a lot less.
I'm climbing slowly into bed when Nurse Kate suddenly appears at the door, prepared for one final vital check before I go to bed. I smile at her as bright as I can. I've been practicing her smile. I want to be as good at it as she is, but when she smiles back I realize I never will.
"I'm gonna grab a snack," my dad announces upon her entrance. He has this idea that I need time alone with Kate. He seems to think that she is like a female role model that I so desperately need. Kate and I rarely discuss anything I wouldn't say in front of my dad though, so I don't see the point.
Regardless, he stands up and walks out leaving me and Kate alone in the room. She walks silently over to my bed and starts jotting things down. The heel of her boots clack satisfyingly against the floor as she moves towards me.
"I know you aren't supposed to tell me, but I would sleep a lot better tonight if-"
"If you're about to ask me a question about a patient, I can't help you."
"It was this boy, he was just brought in and he looked hurt. I don't know what floor it was on, but if you have any information..." I trail off when I meet her eyes. She's giving me a disapproving glare, translating with her eyes that she can't tell me. "I'm not even asking what happened. I just want to know if he's okay!" I plead.
She sighs and continues writing things down. "If I find anything out I'll let you know," she finally gives in. I relax slightly knowing that I hopefully won't be in the dark about that kid forever. For a second the guilt comes back, the reminder that I put Jordan through that. Then I remember that technically, I didn't. Because Jordan got to know me. He got to find out that I'm not great, but I'm okay. It gets me feeling even more entitled to know how that kid is.
My phone buzzes, Jordan is texting me about some theme park he wants to take me to. I think it's his way of easing me into sitting on the roof with him, which I still can't fathom doing, but I amuse him anyway.
"Planning on sneaking out to the parking lot again tonight?" Kate questions, glaring at my phone, then returning to her pen and paper.
I freeze and my eyes fly to her. She's carrying on, as though she didn't say a word. I am stunned and unable to utter a single syllable. She smirks slightly as she writes down the last bit of information she needs.
"I know everything that happens around here," she says, then begins walking away. I'm still frozen, just staring wide eyed, looking stupid as hell. She stops, mid step, and turns around to look at me. "Tell him to stay off the damn roof."
And just like that she's gone.
She has a habit of leaving me confused. Just blinking into the dark, wondering what in the hell just happened. Suddenly all I want to do is text Jordan back and tell him all about my day. I get this rush of positive feelings, like everything is okay. And right now, in this very moment, everything is okay. I think it's because my secret isn't so secret anymore and I wasn't shamed for it. I think a lot of the fear and anxiety that comes with having secrets sort of melts away and I just sit there blinking and smiling and texting him. He must have so many secrets and if he put them out into the world, he could be part of this blissful "everything is okay" mindset.
I don't think about that boy on the gurney for the rest of the night. I don't think about anything except for the fact that life is going good and maybe, for once, I can feel like that for a while.
But just like that boy, it's only the calm before the storm.