Not So Perfect (West Coast Campus Book 4)

Chapter 5

Tatum

"Name and date of birth please," The nurse behind the intake desk asks, a kind smile on her face as she glances up at me.

"Tatum Williams. November 2nd, 2002." I ramble, clutching my blanket tighter to my chest to hide the tremble in my hand.

"Ah, here you are. Take a seat and someone will come and get you for surgery so you can change into a gown and go over medical history with you." She smiles again then goes back to tapping on her keyboard.

I don't bother mumbling a thank you, just go over to the other end of the waiting room and try to get comfortable on the plastic chair.

As soon as Maeve and I entered, I wanted to leave. Everything smells sterile and harsh chemicals float through the air along with sadness that clings to the walls, something every cancer patient wants before their appointment.

I feel jittery despite not having my normal cup of coffee this morning since my stomach was flipping so much it felt like I couldn't hold anything down. It's why I filled my bag with gummy worms and some water in case I get hungry later on.

"Well," Maeve drawls, inspecting her perfect cuticles, "This is a drag. Do they purposely make the room as white as possible? And what are these chairs? You're about to go in for surgery and have chemo and they couldn't find better chairs for the place?"

Maeve scoffs again and I give the nurse behind the desk a weak smile when she glances at us with parted lips and wide eyes. "The agency is too cheap for anything better. Now shut the fuck up."

She rolls her eyes but sits quietly beside me for the next ten minutes until another nurse walks us to a private room where I change, pee in a cup and go over my long list of medical history and meds I'm on now.

Maeve's a trooper through it all, especially when I go into surgery for about an hour to get my port installed and she's right there when I wake up, offering her version of a comforting smile and an awkward pat on my hand.

From there-despite my need to bolt and flee to the other side of Canada-I'm moved to yet another room where three other people are waiting and it's quite obvious that they've been undergoing treatment for awhile. Lack of hair, hunched shoulders and caved in cheeks is something I know all too well about.

But these people also have loved ones by their side. The older two gentlemen have their wives with them judging by the matching gold bands on their fingers and the younger woman-maybe my age-still has a smile on her face as who I assume is her boyfriend tries and succeeds to make her laugh.

A deep pang hits me in my chest and I rub at the spot vigorously, eyes pinching together in an effort to keep my tears. "Hey," Mae whispers gently beside me and despite her being a year younger than me, you can see the age on her face as if she's lived many lifetimes. "It's gonna be okay."

My eyes track the younger woman stepping into the back room where treatments are done and they latch onto her boyfriend who watches the door with stress and worry, the humour from earlier gone. "How do you know that? It's more aggressive, they caught it later-"

"Because I said so and most people do as I say. So you're going to beat cancer's ass and live your boring life as an elementary school teacher." She declares, raising her chin slightly. A laugh bubbles out of me at her stern tone and I nod, thankful she came along.

"Tatum? Tatum Williams?" My heart plummets when a male nurse pokes his head through, smiling with a small nod. I rise to my feet shakily, sparing a glance back at Maeve who offers a thumbs up.

"I'll be your nurse helping you through everything today-and possibly other days as well. I'm Nick, by the way." Nick can't be younger than thirty and I send a tiny thank you to Dr. Clarke.

We step into a massive room-massive compared to all the waiting rooms- and I spot the younger woman from earlier sitting comfortably in one of the recliners with all sorts of tubes and wires attached to her. She glances up at me when I take the recliner next to her.

"Guess we'll be chairmates for the day," She teases and I let myself relax a sliver.

Nick starts inspecting my port and I offer my chairmate a grin. "Tatum."

She smiles widely. "Sienna. And my boyfriend you probably saw earlier is Dylan. He's most likely stressing the fuck out right now."

I snort, letting Nick do whatever he needs to do. "Babe, he looks like he could piss his pants right about now."

Sienna giggles and Nick pauses, glancing between the two of us. "Sienna, I think you just met your best friend. God,  I'm gonna eat all this gossip up like Thanksgiving dinner."

All three of us laugh and it makes me think this might not be as bad as last time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's as bad as last time.

I feel like death. Dizzy and so, so nauseous and weak. Like I could sleep for weeks.

Rhys just got Liam from school and he's currently sitting at the end of my feet on the couch, glancing at me every few seconds. "You don't seem okay. You should go to a doctor."

Maeve and Rhys are both in the kitchen eating but even the thought of food right now makes me sick. Transformers play on the TV in the background and when I meet this man named Noah, I will be kicking his ass for getting Liam hooked on something so annoying.

"Thanks for the advice, Champ." I dryly say but he doesn't notice my tone and grins, turning back to the TV.

"Can I get you anything, Tatum? We have some soda crackers or-"

I cut Rhys off. "How 'bout a gun to the head and someone willing to pull the trigger? Mhm, no volunteers? Damn."

Maeve snorts, placing my requested throw up bucket on the floor beside me. "Noah would do it. He doesn't have feelings."

"Then I would like you to call this so-called Noah and get him the hell over here, please and thank you." My stomach churns and I close my eyes to force it down.

This is only the first round of chemo and I already feel like giving up. How am I supposed to do this for another five months? Answer is I can't.

What I lost from having chemo the first time, I was just starting to gain back. Like my period. I haven't had a period in four years. It'll most likely be another year or two after I'm done with my last doze this time-could be longer since I'm having more chemo done-but damn. I've never wanted to have my period so bad until now.

My vaccines, my hair, my fucking strength. Everything that I had just spent two fucking years to build back will be gone in a matter of weeks. The thought makes me wanna curl into a ball and sob.

And I have no motivation this time around. No reason to fight, no one to fight for. I have more reasons to just give up now than to fight.

A humourless laugh bubbles out of me, followed by uncontrollable sobs. Maybe I should just give up. I'd see them a lot sooner than planned.