Girl [GXG]

Treatment

Sam dropped me off at home, and I was about to get out of the car when she grabbed my wrist. I turned to look into her hazel eyes.

"Please don't let it be weird," she said looking desperate. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable I jus-"

I grabbed her chin and kissed her. When I pulled away she stared into my eyes for a second before nodding to herself.

"Good, Glad we got that sorted out." She said looking out through the windshield. I chuckled softly before grabbing my things, and walking inside. 

"Hey Pop," I say when I see him sitting with Patches and reading. He looks up then checks his watch.

"Eat quickly then get ready for bed. You have your first treatment tomorrow." He says trying to sound as calm as possible, but I can tell he's just as nervous as I am about tomorrow. "There should be some chicken soup in the fridge for you to reheat. I already contacted your teachers so you should be fine."

I sit with Pop while I finish up my soup. I kiss him goodnight and head upstairs to get ready for bed. I read before I turn off my light and try to sleep. No matter how much I try to relax my mind I can't stop thinking about my first treatment tomorrow, and it's keeping me up. I don't know how long it takes me to finally fall asleep, but let's just say it wasn't quick. 

I'm woken by Dad gently shaking me awake. "Delilah, honey wake up," I rub my eyes. "Wear something comfortable, and bring a sweater for the hospital." He says after I sit up. He opens the curtains to reveal a mist covered world. After he leaves I get up, and throw on a pair of sweatpants, Christopher's sweatshirt he outgrew after Freshman year, fuzzy sock, and a pair of converse. When I get down stairs both Dad and Pop are sitting at the table drinking coffee. Pop has huge bags under his eyes, and his cheeks are streaked with tears.

"I made you some toast." Dad gestures to the toaster. I nod, and grab some peanut butter for my toast. I can't focus on the taste of the toast, and it feels like I'm just going to vomit this back up, but I know I have to eat it to keep Dad from worrying. When I finish eating we get in the car, and listen to the radio quietly for the 20 minute ride to the hospital. When we finally enter the building which I can describe in one word-sterile-I check in, and wait for my name to be called. After ten minutes a young nurse calls my name, and the three of us are lead to a room. 

"This is going to be a long one," the nurse said as she set up the bed for me. "So I would get your book, or whatever you brought with you set up before we get started." I nodded, and Dad handed me my bag with my book, and tablet. 

"If you don't mind me asking," Pop chimed, "how long will the first treatment take?"

"Dr. Thompson wants to do some blood work beforehand, and then I think the actual IV should take about two hours. You're welcome to stay with her." 

We sat in the room for half an hour before Dr. Thompson knocked on the door to announce her presence before coming in. Her hair was tied in a knot right by her neck, and she looked like she could be easily snapped in half. 

"Good morning," She said gently. "How are we feeling this morning?"

"As good as I can be." I responded. She nodded before picking up the clipboard with my chart on it. Her brows furrow as she nods to herself, and makes a few notes before looking back up at me.

"So we're going to take some blood before we hook you up to the IV." She says before exiting the room.

The nurse comes back in to draw some blood. She puts on a smiley face bandaid when she finishes which I find completely ironic, but no one else seems to be in the mood for a good laugh. We wait for another few minutes before they come back in to hook me up to the IV. 

A different nurse from before walks in. She's shorter, and her face is more gentle than the last one. 

"I'm Rachel," she says with a smile. "I'm going to sit with you while you get hooked up, and if you need anything after I go you can just hit the call button." Rachel helps the other nurse set up the IV before she sits back down next to me. 

"I'm going to get a cup of coffee," dad says as he stands up. "Do either of you want anything while I'm in the cafeteria?" Pop and I both shake our heads no before, and he leaves. Pop audibly sighs, and I know why. I know that Pop thinks he should be here with me, but it wouldn't be fair to Dad to make him watch his only daughter get her first chemo treatment. 

After a few minutes the medicine finally starts to flow, Rachel leaves when she's sure that everything is running smoothly, and I pull out my copy of "Notes from the Underground" to distract myself. I'm just getting settled when I hear a laugh to the left of me. I look up at Pop with my eyebrows pinched in a silent What's so funny?

"Of course you would decide to bring that book as a way to relax."

"It's not that dark." I say defensively.

"Mhm, and I'm not that gay." 

I roll my eyes as I chuckle before turning back to my book. We sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, and Dad comes back in with his cup of coffee, a sandwich, and a newspaper tucked under his arm. He sits down in the available chair, and opens his newspaper. I can tell he's been crying by the puffiness of his eyes. My phone buzzes, and I turn it over to see a text from Olivia.

"Can you come to the art room during lunch so we can talk?"

I think of ignoring it, but I know that I'll just feel guilty, and that will eat away at me more than the cancer. 

"I'm getting my first treatment right now, and I won't be at school today." I text back. I know I could have just said that I'm home sick today, but a part of me wanted her pity, and wanted her to feel guilty. 

Eventually the two hours pass, and Dr. Thompson knocks on the door before coming back in.

"If you don't mind I would like to speak to Delilah alone for a few minutes." She says to my dads, and the nod before exiting the room. Dr. Thompson pulls a chair up to where I'm laying, and looks at her clipboard before looking back at me. "How are you feeling?"

"Not great, but I didn't expect to be." She nods, and makes a note. I start to feel lightheaded, and rest my head against the pillows, but it doesn't help. I start to sweat, and then I hurl into the trashcan next to me. "Sorry," I say weekly. "I also didn't sleep very well last night so that could be a part of it."

After making sure that I'm okay she gets me a paper towel to wipe my face, and takes my vitals again. 

"You know my grandmother used to say that when you can't sleep it's because someone is thinking of you." She says with a small smile. 

I chuckle, and nod before saying, "Then I would love to give the person who was thinking about me oh so intently a piece of my mind."