The Moments

Chapter Six

MADELYN SHEEN

I wake up in an awful mood, prepared for an awful day. Obviously, this is the opposite of the mindset that I'm supposed to have, but dreading what's to come is woven in my DNA. I can already feel the burn of radiation and every other terrible symptom that comes along with it. You can imagine why I take nearly half an hour to drag myself out of bed.

When I first started receiving chemotherapy, everything looked good. There was significant shrinkage and remission was a likely outcome, being cured was doubtful, but possible. Then, when the cancer started to grow, they explained protocol. The protocol is to stop chemo and it became my choice, although it was really my dad's, to try drugs that were unlikely to work, or focus on "comfort care". I was 14 at the time and death was my greatest fear. My mom was still around and she wouldn't stop telling me that it was up to me. I heard my father shouting at night though, I heard him crying when he thought I was asleep, I saw the look on his face when nobody was watching him. Of course I didn't want to die, but I weighed my options. When all was said and done, there was really no choice to be made. So we started a drug trial.

It worked so well that for almost 2 months, I was considered in remission. When I went for my monthly scans however, they found new tumor growth. I was well enough to try chemo again. The chemo worked for about as long as it did the first time before the cycle repeated. Chemo stopped working, we were given the two options, we went back to the drugs at a different dosage and things started to look up again. It was working well enough up until last week when more growth appeared. The exact same events repeated.

Based on my past ability to recover even when chemo and the drug trial failed, they agreed that instead of hospice care they would attempt one more chemo cycle with higher toxicity. Basically, another trial. It took many conferences, because based on my past two attempts, things weren't likely to work out in my favor. My doctors fought for me though, and eventually, I was let into the new trial. I doubt that I would've been let in if it wasn't for my position. They needed somebody in as rough shape as me to test how far this radiation could go.

If it doesn't work, which I hate to think about, there are really no more options. They will offer me the same drugs they have offered in the past, they will fight for me as much as they can, but at that point it will be clear. Nothing can save me. That's why this is so scary, because after going through the same thing twice, why would I expect a different outcome?

These aren't things I like to think about as an IV is put in my arm, so I shake the thoughts out of my head as the sting begins to move painfully through my veins. I briefly squeeze me eyes shut and breath slowly through my mouth. I am careful not to show just how much it all sucks, because then pitiful eyes will fall on me, which makes it all so much worse. I open my eyes and look around. Nurse Kate, is checking my vitals, my dad is scrolling on his phone, and outside the window, I see the world in motion.

Chemo compromise the immune system. The amount of times I've heard those exact words is astounding. Every time I begged to go swing on the hospital playground, every time I asked to visit a friend, every time I requested to have a life outside of cancer, I was reminded that it could kill me. Living could kill me. The thought almost makes me laugh. I pick up my phone and begin to check my reminders for the 30th time.

I get it from my mom, the anal retentivity. She always kept the house so clean, I like to think that her cell is spotless. When she went to jail, I think my dad used her orderliness as a way of keeping her around, so he suggested I keep a schedule, utilize my phone reminders, keep a safe, healthy, and clean environment. Eventually he got bored with it, but for me, it became a useful coping mechanism. It reminded me that among all the things that are completely out of my control, some things are still within my grasp.

When I open my phone however, I come to find that I have an Instagram notification, which is incredibly surprising considering the fact that I have never posted and have no followers. Despite this, the handle Jordan.Wills03, has requested to follow me. He has a private account as well and no profile picture, yet I really have no reason to decline, and I am very curious. I hit accept and request to follow him back.

I keep my eyes on my notifications, refreshing every few seconds, desperate to know who this is. It's obsessive and it's silly, but it's also a distraction from the numerous uncomfortable symptoms that accompany this round of chemo. After a solid three minutes of refreshing, I give up and do what I actually turned my phone on to do. Every reminder is checked off, right up to; Chemo: Round One. Usually I would wait until it was over to check that one off, but I really had nothing better to do.

The sting is fading out now and is replaced with exhaustion, nausea, and just generally feeling like shit. Nurse Kate is gone, my dad is dozing off, and I'm thinking about taking a nap too, although I doubt I'll be able to fall asleep. Then my phone lights up. I reach for it faster than I should and click it on. He accepted my follow request and now I can view his profile. I am all too eager to discover who this is.

He has only two posts. One displays an acoustic guitar laying on a bed with a grey comforter. There is a succulent on the windowsill and light beams upon the room in golden streaks. The aesthetic is kind of perfect, the photo is beautiful. I stare at it for longer than I need to, trying to take in every detail. The other post is just audio. There is a guitar being played perfectly, not a single recognizable mistake, and the voice singing over it is just the opposite. It is rough and it cracks, but in a way I can't describe. The cracks are perfect. Every vocal imperfection just feels right. It's incredible really. He is singing Where Did You Sleep Last Night by Nirvana. I listen to the full, minute long video, then without thinking about it, I double tap to like.

I think about messaging him to ask who he is, but I have to wonder if maybe that's a weird thing to do. I don't know Instagram etiquette, and I don't want to scare off my one and only follower so I just sit there and listen to the song again. There is something strangely familiar about his voice. Maybe that's just a feeling that his singing is meant to invoke. I put my phone down because I am scared that if I hold it any longer, I will message him and embarrass myself.

I look out the window again, I can see the playground. There is a young girl climbing alone. She swings on the monkey bars and she might be talking to herself, or maybe singing. Either way, it's a sad sight. I want to go down there, say hello, keep her company. I hope the reason she is here isn't too sad, but something about the look on her face tells me it is. The longer I watch her, the worse I feel. I quickly cut my eyes away.

"Hour one is up!" chirps Nurse Kate from behind me. I didn't hear her come in. "Nine more to go. How you feeling?"

"Wonderful," I groan. Her question reminds me of all the bad feelings and I find myself eyeing the plastic bin in front of me.

She checks my vitals again. I know she likes me, like in a way where I stand out among other patients. It makes me feel great about myself. She may not be a real doctor, but her faith in me surviving is definitely helpful.

"You think you'd be able to sleep if we moved you to your bed?" she asks. I think about it. Probably not, but it's worth a shot. The sun is only just beginning to set, but I'm pretty tired so I nod my head.

Once settled in bed, and after losing the contents of my stomach into the bin, I check my phone again. Nothing. I don't know what I expected. We both follow each other, I may not know much about social media, but when it comes to strangers on Instagram, I'm pretty sure that is where the exchange ends.

I fiddle with my phone as I doze off. I'm still hoping that it will buzz right before my eyes fall shut and I will feel it against my palm. Of course that doesn't happen, but in my dreams, it does.