Helpless | A Modern Hamliza Story

Chapter Twelve

Two weeks. That was all Eliza needed to keep telling herself as she sat on the bathroom floor one afternoon after chemotherapy.

This last cycle of chemotherapy was her worst yet, as she was barely out of the bathroom needing to vomit all afternoon.

Her hair was now thinning slightly, though she was grateful that she wasn't losing much hair overall. Still, she had little time to think of thinning hair when she was hunched over the toilet most of the afternoon and sleeping the rest of it.

She still had a better appetite than before she was diagnosed, but she was eating less as she didn't like having to vomit not long after eating every time.

So all she needed to do was make it two more weeks of treatment, and then hopefully everything went as planned and she would be cancer free. And then hopefully she and Alex could start planning the rest of their lives, from Paris to children and the next seventy years of their lives.

The scrapbook was becoming more and more complete with each chemotherapy session. They were working on their senior year pictures now, and they vowed to continue filling the book at home after chemotherapy, passed their college days, until there was no more space left in the book.

Eliza had to admit, deciding to start the book was one of her best ideas to date. It was especially helpful during the last few weeks where her sickness was becoming worse than ever before. She could just think back on the friends who were waiting for her to get better so they could all be together once again.

Alexander entered the bathroom once he heard her finish vomiting for the third time that afternoon, knowing she didn't like to be bothered after chemo nausea. He sat on the floor next to her, handing her a bottle of water.

"Drink some," he offered, taking the top off of the bottle for her. She gulped it down quickly to replenish her fluids and get the disgusting taste out of her mouth.

"Just two more weeks," she said out loud this time, looking down at her raggedy sweats that had officially become her "chemo sweats". Hopefully she'd only spend two more Saturdays in these old sweats before the nurses and doctors would tell her she only needed to be back for periodic screenings to make sure the cancer stayed away. Or at the very least, two more Saturdays until she got a little break.

Alexander nodded, offering her his hand to help her up off the floor. She got up, pulling herself close to him so that she wouldn't fall.

It felt ironic to her that the same way he was holding her just six weeks ago as they danced around their living room was the same way he held her as she regained balance after chemotherapy. She was weaker now these days and it was hard for her to walk so soon after a therapy session.

"Two more weeks," Alexander agreed, walking her to their bed and helping her lay down. "You are the strongest person I know," he added as he helped pull their comforter over her body and tuck her in.

"When I wake up, can you help me write another post? I need my proofreader," Eliza asked, smiling weakly and turning on her side.

He smiled, grateful that she was wanting to do things again that she loved to do. So of course he agreed, leaving her to sleep for the rest of the afternoon so she could try to get all the energy she needed to write a new blog post.

Alexander went downstairs to the living room, picking up his laptop and sitting down on the couch. He began looking up flights to Paris just to get a ballpark price for the time he was looking at. Of course he couldn't guarantee that this would be the time they could go, but this is what he was looking at if this truly was Eliza's last cycle of treatment.