He woke up hours later, feeling not the least bit refreshed. Still, not content to lie in bed all day, he decided to get up. Dragging himself blearily out of bed, he did not notice the wisps of blonde hair that covered his pillow. He felt like utter crap and decided a nice hot shower was the best hope for relief, so he staggered into the bathroom, turned on the spray, shed his clothes, and climbed in.
Sighing through the steam as the warm water massaged his body, Nick took the bar of soap and ran it over his skin, cleansing himself of the previous night’s torment. Then he squirted a liberal amount of shampoo into his hand, rubbed his palms together, and raked his fingers through his hair, smoothing in the shampoo. Closing his eyes, he continued to knead his scalp. Finally, he pulled back his sudsy hands and placed them under the jet, opening his eyes to watch the white foam wash away. But when he looked at his hands, he was shocked to see that shampoo suds were not all that covered his palm. Stringy, wet, hairs were plastered to his skin.
“Oh my God...” Nick’s voice was trembling just as much as the rest of him as he stared at his hands. Putting them back under the water, he rubbed them together furiously, scrubbing at them, trying to wash the hair off. The wet strands slid off his skin and landed on the smooth white bottom of the tub, working their way down to the drain with the flow of the water.
“Please, no, not yet...” Nick whimpered, gingerly reaching up to his head. With his thumb and forefinger, he delicately touched a small lock of hair. Separating a few hairs from the rest, he gave them a friendly tug. Instead of clinging fast to his scalp, they slid out easily between his fingers. Flicking the hair away in disgust and watching it wash down the drain with the rest, Nick could feel himself rapidly losing it. Tears stung his eyes and slid down his cheeks, mixing with the shower water.
This was it. The much dreaded side effects were starting, and his hair was going. There was no more denying what was happening to him, and soon, he feared, the whole world would know.
Crying, Nick sank down to a squat, hugging his knees to his chest. His shin throbbed under his weight, but he welcomed the pain. Staring down at the hair flattened against the bottom of the tub, blemishing its pure porcelain whiteness, he felt sick to his stomach. He was not sure if it was just another side effect of the chemo or the product of his own distraught state, but all of a sudden, he let loose, retching onto the tub bottom. The watery beige vomit blended with the water, staining it light brown, and slowly washed away.
With one trembling hand, Nick reached forward and turned off the tap. Immediately, the water that rained down on him like tears from Heaven stopped, and he was left with his tears alone. The desecrated mix of water, suds, vomit, and hair washed away, but Nick remained, curled up in a ball on the tub’s cold, hard bottom like a frightened child. Only when his skin was dry and covered in goose bumps did he slowly rise and climb out, only to throw a towel around his quivering shoulders and perch on the edge of the tub to wallow in his own misery.
***
Nick emerged from the bathroom awhile later feeling rather depressed, but also extremely foolish. What was wrong with him? He had broken down and bawled like a baby... over hair? Sure, he liked his hair, and he knew plenty of teenage girls liked it too... but it wasn’t the end of the world. It wasn’t even the end of his hair... sure, it would probably all fall out eventually and leave him bald, but it would grow back. And that was better than slowly going permanently bald... which was what he was sure was happening to AJ, whose hairline was probably receding due to excess use of hair dye.
Nick couldn’t help but smile at that; it was one of the few things the guys could tease AJ about. Yes, AJ’s hair, Howie’s random winking, Brian’s Christianity, Kevin’s eyebrows, and Nick’s... well... Nick’s any number of things – his “difficulties with words”, his lack of geographical knowledge, his arrest, his dancing, his former girlfriends, his constipated facial expressions in the “Quit Playing Games” video, his horrible German pronunciation, the pooping in the sock incident, his weight... the list went on and on.
At least his weight wouldn’t be an issue anymore. That was the one good effect of his cancer – he had lost at least forty pounds by now, though the guys had yet to say anything. Then again, he wore his clothes big and baggy now to hide the catheter and the infusion pump bag, so maybe they hadn’t noticed. He just hoped he wouldn’t be put on whatever the hell that Claire girl was taking, or he’d gain it all right back again and then some.
But the issue at hand now was not his weight, but the episode he had just had in the shower. What the hell was that? Was the chemo messing with his emotions now too? He felt like a pregnant woman (or how he imagined a pregnant woman might feel, though he had no real experience in that issue), overly hormonal. Now AJ would really say he was PMSing. If only he would get the food cravings... that would definitely be nice, for when he was on chemo, food lost all its appeal. And to Nick, that was a tragedy. Nick liked food.
He also liked Nintendo, and that’s what he decided to do next. It would help him take his mind off everything, including his impending nausea. So, turning on the TV and the Gamecube he had hooked up to it, he grabbed his controller and lowered himself painfully to the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him. He realized his left leg still looked puffy and bigger than the right one. Remembering he had forgotten to put on his leg brace after getting dressed, he half-crawled, half-dragged himself across the floor to retrieve it from the spot where he had dropped it the previous afternoon. He strapped it tightly around his left leg to hide his swollen shin and eased himself back into his spot in front of the television.
Within minutes, he was totally entranced in the game and had forgotten about everything – his leg, his hair, his nausea, his chemo, his cancer, his career, and even his bandmates.
Blasting away an oncoming monster with a big gun, he couldn’t help but smile. Nintendo ruled.
***
