But Claire wasn’t there, and he would have to go through it alone this time.
Don’t be such a pussy, he told himself fiercely. You’ve been through this two times already; you can do it again, and you can do it by yourself.
He gritted his teeth as Dr. Kingsbury slid the small needle with the anesthetic into his hip. When she had retracted it, he let out the breath he had been holding.
“You doing all right?” Dr. Kingsbury asked while she waited for his hip to numb a bit.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he mumbled.
“Okay... the anesthetic should be kicking in now, so I’m going to put in the other needle. Marianne?” Nick felt the nurse’s hands tighten over his shoulder and back, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he sensed Dr. Kingsbury coming closer. The suspense he felt as he waited for her to put the needle into his hip seemed to grow each time he went through this, for whereas he had been completely clueless to what it might feel like the first time around, he was now all too familiar with the pain that would come with the needle’s insertion and dreaded it even more.
“Okay, Nick,” Dr. Kingsbury said softly, and he knew this was it. He felt a sensation of pressure as the needle went through his skin and into his pelvic bone. And then came the sucking, blinding pain, as awful as always. By the time Dr. Kingsbury pulled the needle out, his hip was burning unbearably, and his eyes were filled with tears of agony. He quickly blinked them away, taking deep breaths to slow his racing heart and ease the pain.
“There,” said Dr. Kingsbury, gently squeezing his shoulder. “Are you okay, Nick?”
He did not trust his voice to speak, so he only nodded.
“Okay,” the doctor said, her voice sympathetic. “You lie still and relax for a little while. I’ll be back to talk to you later.”
He nodded again and heard the squeak of shoes as she and the nurse walked out of the room. He was now alone and welcomed the privacy and silence. Lying perfectly still on the padded table, he closed his eyes again against the bright overhead lights and tried to think about anything but the throbbing pain the bone marrow aspiration had left him in.
Last one, he though pleadingly. Please let this be the last one.
He was trying not to get his hopes up, but deep down, he was praying with all his might that he would be able to walk out of the clinic in remission that day and never look back, that Dr. Kingsbury would tell him his cancer was gone, and that it would never return, that he would finally be able to wake up from this four-month-long nightmare in which he’d been living.
He clung to that glimmer of hope, trying to think positively, trying to block out the fiery claws of pain that slashed through his hip and the icy fingers of fear that squeezed his heart.
***
By the time Dr. Kingsbury came back, Nick was feeling better. His hip was sore, but he had managed to sit up and was now swinging his legs and jiggling his feet anxiously, his palms sweating as he waited for the verdict... would he get a pardon or a death sentence?
Dr. Kingsbury strode into the room, his chart and scans in her hands, and like the time before, she switched on the light board on the wall and slapped two x-rays onto it, side by side. Nick could see his own leg on both of the films.
“This x-ray,” Dr. Kingsbury said, pointing to the one on the left, “was the very first one taken of your leg, before your diagnosis. You can see the fracture running along here...” She pointed out the jagged, thin crack dividing the whiteness of the bone. “And right here was your tumor.” With her finger, she circled the black spot in the middle of all the white.
Was... she said ‘was,’ Nick thought, his heart racing with anticipation. His eyes shifted to the x-ray on the right. The crack was gone from this one, the fracture having healed completely, and... so was the black spot? He stared, squinting, not breathing, not daring to speak. He waited for Dr. Kingsbury to explain it, which she did right away.
“This one,” she said, moving to the other scan, “is the one you had taken today. Again, you can see your tibia, but there’s no fracture now, and as for the tumor...”
Nick sucked in a shaky breath.
“... you can only just barely make it out. It’s shrunken to the point of being almost undetectable in an x-ray. The bone scan, which is more advanced, shows that it’s still there, but significantly smaller.”
It’s still there? Nick’s heart sank. “So what does that mean?” he asked warily.
“It means the chemo is doing its job. You’re not cancer-free yet, but the tumor has stopped growing and has actually shrunken a great deal. It’s gone dormant, and that means... you’re in remission.”
Nick exhaled, his whole body slumping in total relief at her words. “Remission,” he breathed. “So... so I’m done with the chemo then, right? The kind with the pump, I mean.”
“Right,” smiled Dr. Kingsbury.
“Well, what about this stup- I mean, this catheter?” Nick asked and flashed her a quick, sheepish grin.
“As for the ‘stupid catheter,” she enunciated, returning the smile, “I’d prefer if you left it in at least until your next check-up, which should be scheduled for about three months from now.”
“Three months? Or three weeks?” He wondered if she had made a mistake, but of course he was hoping she wasn’t. Three whole months without having to set foot in this place? That would be awesome!
“Three months,” she confirmed with another smile. “Now that you’re in remission and not going through IV chemo anymore, you won’t need to come back so frequently. You can make an appointment for sometime in early November, and unless you have any problems or notice your symptoms starting to reappear, you won’t have to come back until then.”
“Wow... okay,” Nick said in surprise.
“I knew you’d be disappointed by that,” said Dr. Kingsbury with a wink. “So... if you don’t have any questions or anything, I’ll just leave and let you get dressed, and then you can go. Stop by the reception area on the way out to schedule your appointment; I’ll let Laura know you won’t need to come back and see us for awhile. Oh, and I’ll have your prescriptions waiting there for you too. Make sure you get those filled right away, today if possible.”
“Okay,” Nick grinned. “Thanks, Dr. K.”
“You’re welcome. You take care of yourself, and I’ll see you in three months, hopefully not before.” She patted his shoulder in a comforting sort of way and then left. Slowly, Nick lowered himself off of the table. His sore hip protested any kind of movement, but the pain was dulled by the ecstatic feeling that he could feel bubbling in his soul. Remission... he was in remission. No more chemo... no more clinic visits (not for another three months anyway)... he was home free. Well, okay, not quite, but close enough!
Nick changed out of the hospital gown and into his street clothes as quickly as he could, anxious to get out of there. He made a mental note to drop by the isolation ward on his way out, for he remembered promising Claire he would tell her his news, good or bad.
And of course, he would have some phone calls to make when he got home... Brent and the other guys – Lane, Frank, and James... but then again, maybe he’d just call Brent and let Brent fill the others in... he hadn’t quite forgiven them for excluding him when they had gone out clubbing a month earlier (which was the last time he had talked to any of them). What about his family? He wanted to at least assure Aaron and the girls that he was going to be okay... but knowing his mother, she’d intercept the phone call, and he didn’t feel like telling her. If she was worried about him, then good. Let her worry. He didn’t care. And if she wasn’t... then some mother she was. Either way, screw her.
Then there were the Boys - Kevin, AJ, Howie, and, of course, Brian. They were pretty much his only true friends (besides Claire), his only real family. They had been there for him these last few months, supported him without smothering him, been there without hauling ass down to Florida in a tizzy every time he so much as coughed, yet coming (or at least calling) when he really needed them. They would be the first people he called, and he couldn’t wait to hear their reactions when he told them the news.
He, Nick Carter, was going to be just fine. And even though Dr. Kingsbury had spoken with reservation, telling him that he wasn’t cancer-free quite yet, hinting that there could still be trouble ahead, he knew that he had beaten cancer. Kicked its ass, really. The pills he would be taking from now on would erase the rest of the tumor in his leg, and he would be cured.
And as he sauntered out of the outpatient oncology clinic that day, a handful of papers clutched in his fist, he truly believed that.
***
