It had been half an hour since the bone marrow aspiration, and Dr. Kingsbury had let him lie in the examining room for a short while to recuperate before he attempted to drive himself home. Claire had gone; Nick insisted she didn’t have to stay any longer, feeling bad for keeping her there as long as he did. He didn’t mind anyway; somehow he didn’t feel like talking as much when his hip was searing with pain. He was more content to just lie there and moan and bitch in his head about how much it sucked.
“Yeah, I’m feeling better,” he answered now, and truthfully, he was. He was sore, but the pain had dulled to a weak throb that was definitely tolerable, considering that’s what his left shin basically felt like all the time. With some difficulty, he managed to sit up.
“Okay. Well, let me get your new infusion pump going here...” He untied his hospital gown and pulled it down in front so that she could get at his catheter. With the nimble fingers of an expert, she quickly hooked the thin line of the new pump into the catheter.
“There you go, sir. Your clothes are over there,” she said, pointing, “so go ahead and get dressed, and you can go.”
“Okay,” Nick said. “I’ll see you in three weeks then.”
Dr. Kingsbury nodded, smiling, and started to leave the room so he could get changed. Then, she stopped. “Oh, wait, one thing,” she said, turning back. “The results of your tests won’t be in till probably tomorrow morning, and I’m sure things will be fine, but if anything looks out of the ordinary, I’ll give you a call, okay?”
“Oh, okay,” Nick replied casually, not thinking anything of it.
But the doctor called him the very next day.
***
It was almost noon when the phone rang, but Nick was still in bed, battling nausea. “Go away,” he mumbled, groaning as the phone’s shrill, constant ringing plagued his ears. With a sigh, he rolled over and blindly reached for the cordless on the night stand next to his bed; he managed to grab it from its cradle, and, squinting tiredly, looked at the caller ID in the little window on the phone. Reporters had been calling him pretty much everyday since the TRL appearance, but he had done his best to ignore them all. He sure as hell didn’t want to talk to one now.
But the caller ID did not register a private or blocked call, which was usually what it said when it was a reporter or solicitor. Instead, it said Tampa General. Immediately, a wave of nausea rippled through Nick’s stomach, but this time, he was sure it wasn’t from the chemo. A sheet of cold sweat broke out on his skin, and with a shaking finger, he punched the “talk” button on the phone and held it up to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Nick?” It was a woman’s voice, and he knew, just as he had suspected, that it was Dr. Kingsbury.
Oh God, oh God, why is she calling? His mind raced, coming up with all the worst possibilities. What had his tests shown? That the cancer had spread? Oh God... how bad was it? Is she gonna tell me I’m going to die?
“Hello? Nick?”
“Oh, yeah, this is Nick,” Nick said quickly, heart pounding erratically.
“Oh, good morning, Nick. This is Dr. Kingsbury.”
“Hi...”
Dr. Kingsbury must have sensed the uneasiness in his voice, for she continued quickly, “Nick, I know I said I would call you if anything turned up in your test results, and I don’t want to scare you. Your chest x-ray and bone marrow biopsy both looked great; no cancer cells. But the x-ray and CT scan of your leg show that the hole has not been reduced by as much as I would have expected.”
“So what does that mean?” Nick asked, wondering if he was supposed to feel relieved or not.
“It means that the chemo is not working as well as it should be. I’d like to try you on some stronger drugs to see if that helps.”
“Stronger drugs?” Nick repeated in dismay. “Will that make me even sicker than I am now?” Nausea coursed through his body, reminding him just how much the stuff he was on now sucked.
“Probably, yes. And I know that’s no fun, but Nick, we need to try it. The therapy you’re on now just isn’t doing the trick, and I’m afraid if we don’t try a more potent drug combination, the hole will get bigger, and the cancer will begin to spread. We need to keep it contained. You understand?”
“Yeah,” Nick replied glumly. “So when would I start that stuff? In three weeks?”
“No, I would prefer you start on it this week. And I’m afraid you’ll need to stay in the hospital for a few days while you adjust to it.”
“What?!” Oh man, this was sucking worse and worse with each passing moment...
Dr. Kingsbury chuckled. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t like that. I’m so sorry, Nick, but that’s just the way we have to do it. I can’t just give it to you in a pump the very first time and send you home with it. We have to observe you here at the hospital to make sure you don’t have a bad reaction to it.”
“What, you don’t call throwing up and having your hair fall out a bad reaction?” Nick snapped. On the other end of the line, Dr. Kingsbury was silent, and he immediately felt a bit guilty for giving her a hard time. It wasn’t her fault; he knew she was only trying to do what was best for him. “Sorry,” he mumbled an apology.
“That’s all right. I understand,” said Dr. Kingsbury gently. “What are your plans for the week? Are there two or three days you could set aside to check into the hospital?”
“Yeah,” Nick sighed. “I haven’t made any plans for this week; I try to keep the chemo weeks free cause I usually feel too shi- I mean, bad - to do anything.”
“Okay... so... when should we get this show on the road?”
Show on the road... bad choice of words... how he wished he were on the road now, with the guys, touring, instead of here... would he ever be able to tour with them again? Or would this stupid disease always be here to ruin all his plans?
“Nick?”
“Oh, sorry... um... I guess let’s get it over with as soon as possible... can I come tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow would be fine. I’ll make all the arrangements, and you can check in tomorrow morning. Okay?”
“Sure,” Nick replied dully.
“Great. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow then, and if things go well, you’ll be out of the hospital by Wednesday morning.”
“Okay. Bye, Dr. Kingsbury.” He hung up and lay back down in bed, burying his face in his pillow. He closed his eyes, but could not go back to sleep. The queasy sensation of wanting to throw up, mixed with his newfound worry, kept him wide awake.
***
