Love, Drugs and Cancer

Chapter 6: His Lies

After that, everyday of Cole's life became surrounded by me.

He came to the hospital every single day, sat there for hours and hours. I figure that he goes to eat as soon as I fall asleep, because he's always there when I wake up and he never leaves. Both Emily, Dr. Smith and the other nurses know him by now. He's even become known at the front desk.

He also brings me flowers. Everyday. A new kind of flower, a different color. He used to bring me a dozen at a time, but when my nightstand became too full, he would bring one at a time instead, adding one to the vase each day. It became a little joke. Sometimes he would put the flower behind my back and he wouldn't give it to me until I guessed the color or gave him a kiss.

After a talk with my parents, it was decided that I would continue chemo for two and a half more weeks. 17 more days. After that, if the cancer still wasn't showing signs of weakening, then my options were limited. I can either get a stem cell/bone marrow transplant, which I will need a match to do. There's not guarantee that a match will be found for me, so this option seems to be sort of avoided. The doctors told my parents that we should start searching for matches or get ourselves on a list, but my parents are hoping that it doesn't come to that and that they won't need to find a match at all. They're being naive, of course. Even if I do manage to go into remission after the chemo, a transplant is still suggested. But my parents refuse to listen. They've been trying to cleanse themselves of negative thoughts. 

My other option is radiation therapy. Radiation therapy either comes in if the cancer spreads to my brain or in some cases, if I do get the stem cell transplant. If I get radiation therapy, I get to get out of the hospital and stay at home in between radiation. The idea of radiation therapy sounds a whole lot more pleasant than the chemo that I'm doing right now. Less side effects. Getting to stay home. But radiation therapy also means that it has gotten worse. That my survival chances have shrunk. 

I've only had two chemo sessions since Cole found out. I now only have them every other day, instead of every day, but the doses are stronger. Every minute I'm not sleeping I'm puking. I've sort of been living in a comatose state. Every time I wake up, I try to push Cole away. I don't like it when he sees me in this state. 

"Stop, Sam. I'm not going anywhere. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you like this?" Cole said to me.

"What kind of girl wants her boyfriend to see her puking until she dies?" I replied snappily. 

"You're going to live, Sam."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are." He grabbed my hand. "You're going to live."

"Stop saying that. It's like we're in some stupid romantic movie or something." I replied.

"I will never stop believing that you're going to live." He kissed my forehead before I drifted off back to sleep.

He has held up to his word, too. Everyday when he comes and sees me, he reminds me first thing. Right as he's giving me the flower, usually. He also reminds me every time I throw up or say that I'm going to die. His will for me to live has become the topic of our conversations.

Not that we have many conversations. I think that him finding out about the cancer has taken a huge toll on our relationship. Before when we went on dates, we were out in the fresh air and away from the hospital. It became easy for me to push aside the thoughts of cancer and therefor, push aside my sick stomach. But now that our dates consist of him sitting in a chair and me laying in a bed, it's no longer easy to push away the sick stomach. We barely ever talk. At first, I was relieved when he found out. No more lying. But now I've realized that our relationship was easier when the cancer was a secret. Now there's a sort of heaviness hanging over our relationship like a boulder waiting to crush us. It puts both of in a sad mood.