The after-effects of the chemo were just the same as he remembered them. He was back to being constantly nauseous and too weak to move, other than making it to the toilet in time to throw up.
Only in many ways, it was worse than when he had been on chemo before. Before, he could collapse into bed and get up to throw up as needed. But that was just not possible anymore. Even if he could somehow make it into the bathroom on time on his prosthesis, getting down to his knees was a whole different story.
And so, as soon as Howie had gotten him home from the hospital, he’d gone straight to the bathroom and stayed there. Howie bustled in and out, taking care of him, while AJ huddled outside, grossed out by the sounds and smells and afraid to come in. Nick didn’t blame him.
“Nicky?” Howie’s gentle voice caused Nick to open his eyes and look up at his friend. Howie was leaning over him, holding out a bottle of water. “Here, Nicky, sip this.”
Nick shook his head weakly. “It’ll just come up again,” he moaned.
“You’re going to get dehydrated if you keep throwing up like this. Please try and drink some water. Okay?” Pleadingly, Howie uncapped the bottle and held it closer.
“Fine,” Nick mumbled, reading for the bottle and tipping it to his dry lips. The water was cool and felt good in his parched mouth, and he gratefully took a few swallows, relieved to wash away some of the nasty taste of vomit on his tongue. But as soon as the cold water hit his stomach, it wreaked havoc on his system, and he found himself grabbing hold of the toilet seat and trying to haul himself up again. Howie helped, taking hold of him under the arms and lifting him to his knees. Leaning heavily on the toilet, Nick retched violently, expelling nothing but stomach acid. Dutifully, Howie rubbed his back and eased him back to the floor when he had finished.
“Here, Nicky,” he whispered, gently wiping his face with a cool, wet washcloth. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
Weakly, Nick nodded, closing his eyes and letting his head fall limply to rest on one of his arms. He could hear Howie conversing softly with AJ outside the bathroom and found that if he held perfectly still (which was not hard, since even the slightest movement could set off another fit of nausea) and listened, he could catch most of the muffled conversation.
“You all right, J?” Howie was asking.
AJ laughed weakly. “Me? I’m not the one you should be asking that question.”
“AJ...”
“What?” There was a pause, and then AJ continued, “Okay, honestly... no, I’m not all right. God, Howie... I dunno if I can handle this, watching him get so sick... okay, hearing him get so sick... ugh... I’m a horrible person, aren’t I? I should be in there right now, taking care of him, and I... I just... can’t do it. I can’t stand it, Howie! So I just fucking hide out here and listen to him puke his guts out instead. I’m a fucking shitty friend.”
“AJ, no you’re not,” Howie insisted firmly. “You’re here now, aren’t you? A bad friend wouldn’t have given up his life to move in and take care of Nick. Look, this is hard on all of us, and I know you hate seeing him like that. It doesn’t mean you’re a horrible person; it just shows that you care. And I know you’re not so keen on, uh... certain aspects of this... but that’s okay... I can handle this part of it. Just having you here is a help, to him and to me.”
AJ sighed. “Should he be getting this sick though? I mean, I know the shit made him barf and stuff before, but God... was it this bad? How is this supposed to be helping him? Throwing up that much can’t be healthy. And what do they expect him to do, just spent the night on the bathroom floor? D, this is fucking torture!”
“I don’t know, AJ, I don’t know. We just have to trust his doctor, I guess. She knows what she’s doing.”
“Does she?” AJ fired back. “Jesus Christ, she hasn’t gotten it right yet, has she? First she poisoned him with that chemotherapy crap, which obviously didn’t work because the cancer came back anyway, so then she nuked him with radiation or whatever, and that didn’t work either, so she amputated his goddamn leg! And now she’s giving him more chemo! And for what reason?”
“To make sure the cancer hasn’t spread and kill it off before it can do damage if it has spread,” Howie answered. “Come on, AJ, this was explained to us. And keep your voice down, or he’ll hear us!”
Too late, Nick thought in misery as he lay limply on the floor. Neither one seemed to realize how much their voices carried in his house.
“-we should call someone?” AJ was now asking. “I mean, seriously, D, I want to know if this is normal.”
“The nurse at the hospital said he would experience some nausea. She gave him some drugs to help control it before he even got the chemo, but I guess they’re not really working too well...”
“Yeah, no shit,” scoffed AJ. “Seriously, I think this is more than just ‘some nausea’. These medical quacks must not know a damn thing about what it’s really like to go through this shit.”
“Maybe we could call Claire?” Howie suggested. “I mean, she might know what to do... she’s been through this, after all.”
“Yeah, that’s true. Good idea, D, I’ll go give her a call and find out.”
No! Nick’s mind screamed, and he struggled to get up. “Wait!” he called weakly, “don’t-“ But before he could finish his sentence, his stomach lurched, and he dragged himself to the toilet instead of the door, vomiting into it yet again. A few seconds later, Howie was back in the room and at his side once more. By the time Nick was finished, he felt too weak to even acknowledge the fact that he’d heard their conversation and protest to calling Claire. What the fuck did it matter anyway? It wasn’t like he had much dignity left to preserve.
But when he heard the doorbell ring half an hour later and Claire’s concerned voice blending with AJ’s as they approached the bathroom, Nick found himself wanting to sink right through the floor and disappear. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him at his worst before – quite the contrary, in fact. They’d been through chemo together, and she’d been at his side from two days post-op onward. Yes, she’d definitely seen him at his worst. But still, that had been before... well, before Friday. Things were different now.
The bathroom door swung open, and Nick was still blatantly visible, lying there on the floor. Looking up, he found Claire standing in the doorway. Offering her a thin, pitiful smile, he struggled to sit up, leaning weakly against the wall and stretching his legs out in front of him.
“Oh, Nick,” Claire said softly, coming into the room and squatting down beside him. She sighed as she surveyed him. “Well, this just sucks, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he whispered hoarsely.
“How about we get you into bed? I’m sure that would be better than lying on the bathroom floor, huh?”
“But what if I-“
“Howie!” Claire called, drowning out the rest of his sentence. “Hey, Howie!”’
“Yeah?” Howie appeared in the doorway.
“Tell AJ to go find a big bowl and then come back here. Nick’s going to go to bed.”
“A bowl?” Nick moaned. “I don’t wanna puke in a bowl.”
“Why not? And you can’t possibly have much left to puke up anyway. It’ll be fine; AJ can wash it out for you,” she said with a snicker.
“Yeah, right.”
Howie came back and looked from Claire to Nick. “Do you think you can walk if we help you, Nicky?” he asked anxiously.
“Yes,” Nick said firmly. Squatting on either side of him, Howie and Claire each slid an arm under his and steadily helped him rise from his floor. Once on his feet, he wavered, his good knee shaking. Holding on to him, Howie and Claire waited until he had gotten his balance, and then, very slowly, the threesome walked out of the bathroom and into the guest bedroom where Nick slept.
The queen size bed had never looked so inviting, and Nick sank down onto it in relief. He took off his prosthesis, for it was bulky and uncomfortable to wear in bed. Then, lying back, he snuggled beneath the covers, cold from sprawling out on the chilly bathroom tiles.
AJ crept rather timidly into the room. “Um, here’s this, if you... if you need it, Nick,” he said, holding out a giant stainless steel bowl.
“Thanks, J. You can just set it on the nightstand; I think it’s passing,” replied Nick.
“Oh. Good.” Managing a smile, AJ plopped something small and bright next to Nick’s pillow. “Polly wants to keep you company.”
Nick cracked a smile at the sight of the stuffed parrot. “Yay,” he said dully.
“Just don’t barf on her, matey, or ye’ll be walkin’ the plank for sure!”
Nick rolled his eyes. “I’ll try not to.”
Smiling, AJ ruffled his hair. “Get some sleep, dude, if you can. I’m gonna go chill in the living room, okay? Claire, are you gonna hang here?” Nick couldn’t help but notice the pleading look AJ gave her.
“Sure,” Claire replied quickly. “If Nick wants me to, that is.” She arched a questioning eyebrow at Nick.
“You can stay. Unless you have to leave or something...”
“Nope. I had the day off work today, so I don’t have to be anywhere.”
“Ugh, you’re wasting your day off watching me throw up? You need to get a life, Claire,” he muttered, winking quickly at her.
“Oh yeah? Well, maybe I’ll just leave if you’re going to be mean to me,” she retorted, acting as if she was going to walk right out the door. She didn’t, of course.
“Are you all set, Nicky?” Howie asked. “Need anything?”
“No, I’m good, D, thanks,” replied Nick.
“Okay. J and I will be in the other room then.” With that, the two men left, closing the door behind them.
Nick glanced at Claire, who stood at the foot of the bed, hugging her arms to her chest. “You can sit down,” he said. “Or lie down, whatever.”
Smiling, Claire went around to the other side of the bed and carefully climbed onto it, being careful not to jostle him as she positioned herself beside him. “Are you feeling any better?” she asked softly as she lightly ran her fingernails up and down the back of his neck, causing the hairs to stand on end.
“A little,” he answered. He was still queasy, but at least he wasn’t constantly dry heaving.
“Good. You know, maybe it’ll be better this time around. The first time can always be really tough, but hopefully your body will get used to it, and you won’t get so sick after every treatment.”
“I wish,” he sighed. “And I wish I could be as optimistic as you.”
“Don’t worry about trying to be optimistic, especially around me. I know how you feel. It’s a lot easier to be optimistic once you’ve gotten through it, trust me.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
“So one day you’ll be able to be optimistic too.”
“Yeah... if I get through this,” he sighed.
She leaned in close, and he could feel her warm breath on the back of his neck as she whispered, “You will, Nick. You will.”
***
