The Moments

Chapter Fourteen

MADELYN SHEEN

Round two of chemo started two days ago and I expected to go back to my normal, cautious, isolated self. I don't think I did though.

My scans came back exactly the same. That's not good, but it's not horrible either. If nothing has changed by the end of the cycle, then worry. If things get worse before the cycle ends, then worry a lot. Right now, it's out of my control.

That's something Jordan taught me to say. I let him convince me that it's okay to admit defeat. To be honest, despite my best attempts to prevent it, he's had a weird impact on me. It's scary, letting somebody in without even trying to. Change happens slowly, maybe that's why I didn't notice it at first, but I have a friend. I have something more than a friend. And it's out of my control.

As of right now, I want nothing more than to see him, but I'm too weak. I can't keep anything down, can barely stand, I feel half dead all the time. This round hit a lot harder. I'm hoping I'll be able to see him when his next appointment comes up either. That's how I know I've changed. Because instead of obsessing over the thought of germs and weakened immune systems, I am fantasizing about kissing him again.

I told my dad that we met online through friends that he thinks I have. Sometimes he steps out of the room so I can talk to him in privacy which I appreciate more than he will ever know. Nurse Kate teases me whenever she catches me blushing at my phone. I don't mind. It feels good to be this involved with something other than cancer. It feels eye opening. I think back to what Kate said when I asked if I was doing it right. She said I wasn't satisfied. I'm still not, but I think I'm improving. I think I'm getting the hang of it.

Right now I am just letting the world turn which I've never done before, but it feels really good. I text Jordan every chance I get, which is often considering I'm not very mobile at the moment. He seems distant today. He's not the kind of person you ask what's wrong though, so I just try to seem peppy despite my less than stellar state of being.

I think we both have made a silent agreement to try things each other's way and I don't hate it. I know my boundaries, I'm aware of my limits. He's persuasive, but he won't push me into doing something I'm uncomfortable with. He scares me beyond belief, but in a way I've come to appreciate. I really like him. That said, I also like the system I had before. The system of putting nothing ahead of recovery. I still plan on living by those guidelines, but maybe with a side project, it could be fractionally more enjoyable.

"We have got to get out of this room," my dad sighs abruptly. I look at him, knowing he's right, but dreading the idea of dragging my aching body out of bed. "Come on," he urges, pushing the wheelchair up next to me. This time I don't fight him, I just swing my legs over the bed and slowly lower myself into the chair.

Once settled and relatively certain I'm not gonna be sick, he pushes me out of the room and into the hallway. I'm wearing this lovely face mask with these golden sunflowers. I've had it since my first ever round of chemo and it's a little childish, but I like to cling onto those types of things.

We go down an elevator, not bothering to check what floor we're on. My dad is just pushing me slowly down the halls of various wings, looking around as though we're sightseeing. He doesn't want me going downstairs to the lobby and being around all those people, and it's not Friday so I don't really mind if there's no chance of seeing Jordan anyway. We round a corner to where the nurses sit, typing on computers and answering phones. My dad spots Dr. Jem and I suddenly realize we aren't just moving aimlessly. He was looking for him.

My dad sometimes gets worried about me in the times when things are actually going okay. He has a habit of hounding Dr. Jem for more information than he is capable of knowing. I feel bad for the guy. I feel bad for both of them really.