Side Effects

Magazines

The space between Echelle and the exit could not have been more testing; the IV planted half-heartedly in her forearm tugged at both the brachial artery it resided in and the heavy sense of urgency to leave in the middle of her treatment. Although she was far beyond going back, she felt as though her life was cheated enough as it was. Her eyes flickered from patient to patient, observing the posture of each individual, then adjusted herself to sit more upright. She wondered what the other patients were having infusions for and eventually came to the conclusion that most of the ill humans hooked up to the dripping IVs were receiving chemotherapy, hence either A) their bald heads or B) the giveaway choice of Cancer-for-Dummies-esque magazines and book selections to read for the long duration of their sessions.

~

"You're gonna be such a wonderful mother."

Echelle's warm eyes wandered from the Parents Magazine draped open across her bloated, pregnant belly to a pair of equally illuminated eyes.

"I can't believe we only have three months to go. He's already so big."

Echelle snorted, amused at her lover's assertion.

"And what makes you so sure it's a boy?" she retorted, raising her right eyebrow mockingly.

"Because you've demanded to eat steak three times in a row for dinner this week. All of that protein's gotta be going somewhere," the man testified playfully, slipping under the fleece comforter of the couple's queen-sized bed. Echelle rolled her eyes, a sheepish smile creeping upon the corners of her mouth.

"Well, I think you're going to make a great father, Jeremy," the glowing woman said, "But we'll just have to see if your steak grilling expertise is up to par with your baby-handling skills." She turned the page of her parenting 101 magazine, wincing slightly at a sharp pain that arose from her wrist. Looking down at her aching hand, Echelle observed her ailment. Her eyes wandered from joint to joint, noticing the increased swelling in her fingers, particularly the appendage which wore her glimmering, golden engagement ring.

"When are you gonna quit that damn typing job of yours? You know there's no need for you to work anymore," her fiance groaned, "Sitting at that computer all day typing up those subtitles isn't helping your arthritis. I thought we decided you were quitting soon."

"I know, I know..." Echelle responded quietly, her hands holding her rotund belly. "I just want to occupy myself while you're at work all day. And I might as well make some extra money while I have the time." Silence overcame the lavender painted bedroom from wall to wall.

"And besides, I've been taking the Abraxam like you told me to. Doctor Anderson told us it wouldn't start showing results immediately." Echelle calmly turned the page of the magazine, pretending to concentrate more on the FAQ section of the subscription than her fiance's stubbornness.

"I just don't want you to get bad again. We need to do what's best for the baby," Jeremy muttered with a sigh. Echelle looked over to her partner with piercing eyes. "We'll give the meds a little longer to kick in," he decided. Echelle closed her magazine and tossed it onto the mound of the other of twice-read parenting subscriptions on the floor and reached over, pulling the nightstand light's chain quickly. She turned over onto her side and stared into the darkness of the bedroom, pulling the covers up to her chin. A pair of warm arms could be felt wrapping around the pregnant woman. Jeremy pulled her close to him and sighed into the back of the mother-to-be.

~

"Well I'll be damned."

Echelle turned her head quickly to the direction of the familiar, low voice to see the man she had confronted at the restaurant making his way over to her, hooked up to an IV just as she was. He was smiling ear to ear, lowering his body into the recliner next to the one his new acquaintance resided in. He pulled the portable, rolling IV bag holder to the left side of the over-sized chair and thanked the nurse whose eyes were glued to the new patient, cautious of his every move.

Echelle was angry at herself for drinking so much that night and approaching Beau with such an obviously infatuated demeanor, but also relieved that she finally had someone to converse with for the lengthy duration of her treatment.

"How's the transfusion treating you?" She asked, curious as to how the chemicals dripping into his virgin artery would react to his condition.

"So far, so good." Beau's expression was both weary and casual. He reached for the remote dangling at the right side of the recliner by a long, coiled chord and pressed various buttons on it until his chair leaned back, his legs rising slowly like the morning sun. Echelle smiled and shook her head, looking over to Beau's fascination with the high-tech treatment throne.

"So let me get this straight- you do in fact have Hollingshead Syndrome. How?" Beau asked.

"I was taking Abraxam, this medication for-"

"Arthritis," he interrupted, shaking his head in incredulity. Echelle nodded, equally as astonished.

"You know, you're lucky you left the other night when you did," he said, shaking his head once again. "I had to tell my daughter everything."

"Everything?" Echelle asked, a look of remorse forming upon her face. "I'm so sorry." Beau shook his head and offered a sympathetic smile.

"It really could've been worse. She's a tough little lady, I'll tell 'ya." He laughed to himself quietly then sighed, the corners of his mouth slowly dropping into a straight line once again.

"Who did you have to break the news to when you found out... y'know, about all of this?" He asked, interested in his new, mutually suffering acquaintance. Echelle looked uncomfortably down at the self-help hardback that rested unopened on her lap. It hadn't occurred to her that anyone would ever approach her about such a fragile subject. Her hands occupied themselves, opening the book as she thought of a simple and straightforward response.

"Well, I had to tell my mother, of course," she began, stiffly looking forward to the other side of the room that had multiple magazine racks and bookshelves lining the wall. "And my best friend, Genevieve." The uncomfortable gaze broke as she looked over to Beau. "She's the bartender at Randy's," she clarified in hopes of him recognizing her. He nodded, silent but attentive. "And my fiancé. Well, ex fiancé."

"Did he split when he found out? Some people don't have the gumption to deal with these kinds of things."

"Yeah, you could say so," she confirmed, offering a second-rate smile.

"Well if it makes you feel any better, Mel's mom left us long before any of this mess started." Beau's hands grabbed at either side of the recliner, his fingers tapping loudly on the arms of the chair. "But that's old news."

The next two and a half hours of the new pair's treatment consisted of a surfeit of back and forth questions and answers, various checkups by their overworked nurses, and a few occasional tacky jokes. After her transfusion finished and a nurse disconnected the IV from her port, Echelle left the E Wing as Beau's treatment finished up. She was warm with a sense of  new found companionship as she made her way to the parking garage, although the spring breeze sent a shiver through her frail body.  Reaching into her black bag for her car keys, her heart stalled for a split second, then she quickly turned around and followed the familiar pathway back to the E Wing in hopes of her key chain being in the recliner she sat in. Gagging and coughing could be heard from around the corner of the wing's entrance.

Her eyes fixed on the figure bent over the conveniently placed garbage can. Beau's body was heaving and shaking, indubitably rejecting his first douse of treatment. Echelle rushed over at the realization of who the man was, patting and rubbing his back with her frail hand as he heaved into the upchuck receptacle. He looked up at her with his watery eyes and strings of vomit dangling from his mouth and croaked, "Would you like to go out sometime?"