Overcoming a serious illness makes you appreciate life more, but it doesn’t make you perfect. Even though you should know better, you still take some things for granted. You get so used to life going on around you while you’re wrapped up in your own little cancer bubble that you don’t worry about it anymore. You just assume everything - and everyone - is fine on the outside.
Six months after my bone marrow transplant, I was ready to re-enter the real world. It had taken that long for my immune system to recover to the point where I wasn’t risking an infection every time I walked out my door without a mask on. For the first time since I’d left the hospital, I was finally feeling like myself again. I had gone back to work and was getting out more, doing things with my friends and coworkers. Life was looking up.
After my six-month check-up, I walked out of the cancer clinic feeling less like a patient and more like a survivor. The appointment had gone well; my blood work and bone marrow sample looked good, with no evidence of cancer. Of course, I knew better than to jump for joy just yet; I’d been down remission road before, and the cancer had come back. I still had a long ways to go before I could be considered cured, but so far, so good. I preferred to focus on the positive.
Even though my hip was sore from the bone marrow biopsy, I was in such a good mood after my appointment that I decided to make a detour through the oncology wing of the hospital for a quick visit with whoever was working that day. When you spend a month in a small room, you tend to get chummy with whoever comes to see you, even when they’re the ones responsible for sticking needles in you and cleaning up your vomit and other bodily fluids. Those nurses put up with so much shit - sometimes literally - dealing with sick people that it had to make their day when the healthy ones came back to say hi and thank them. It was the least I could do, seeing as how they’d saved my life.
Walking toward the nurses station on the fifth floor, I recognized Samantha, one of the nurses assigned to my care team. She had her back turned to me and was talking to nurse I didn’t know. As I approached, I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.
“I feel just awful for him,” Samantha was saying. “It’d be hard for anybody, losing a leg, but when you make a living by singin’ and dancin’…”
“Yeah, I can’t imagine a one-legged guy in a boyband,” the other nurse replied. I think it was then that my stomach dropped, as I put two and two together and realized what - who - they were talking about. For a few seconds, I just stood there in shock, letting the meaning of their words sink in.
“How’s he taking it?”
Samantha shook her head. “Not too well. ‘Course, it’s only been a couple of days…”
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to say something. “Excuse me,” I interrupted, and Samantha jumped. “Are you talking about Nick?”
“Claire!” It had taken Samantha a second to recognize me, but when she did, her face turned beet red. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you standin’ there. I hardly recognized you; you look great! How are you doin’? Are you here to see Nick?” She said this all very quickly. I only heard “Nick.”
My heart sunk. “So he is here. What happened to him??”
Samantha’s eyes widened. Her face was now redder than her hair - redder than mine, even. “Oh god, you didn’t know? I’m sorry, I thought… never mind. I really shouldn’t say…”
But she’d already said enough.
“They had to amputate his leg, didn’t they?” I asked in a hushed voice. Just saying the words made me feel sick to my stomach. “That means his cancer came back.”
Silently, she nodded.
“When?”
“The surgery was two days ago.”
I couldn’t believe no one had told me. So what if Nick and I weren’t on speaking terms? I still would have wanted to know. I still cared about him.
“Can I see him?”
Samantha hesitated. “He hasn’t been in the mood for visitors.”
My heart broke for Nick. “He’s not here all alone, is he?”
“No… the other Boys have been here with him the whole time.”
“What about his family?”
She shook her head. That made me sad, too. “Please let me see him,” I begged, knowing Samantha could be persuaded to break the rules where Nick was concerned. She had let him in to see me several times during my transplant, even though it was only supposed to be family.
“Well… I guess it might do him some good…” Samantha said slowly, giving me a tiny smile. “We’ll see what he says. Come with me.”
I managed to smile back. “Thank you!”
Following her down one of the hallways, I couldn’t help but peek into the patient rooms we passed. I caught glimpses of people who looked like I had six months earlier, bald and bedridden. It was weird being back on that floor. Other than the required clinic visits, I was hoping I’d never have to come back there again. My stomach bottomed out again as I realized Nick had probably hoped the same thing for himself.
Samantha stopped outside a door at the very end of the hall. It was only open a crack. “Wait here,” Samantha whispered to me. She knocked softly on the door before pushing it open further and popping her head into the room. “Hi, Nick,” I heard her say. “I just wanted to let you know you have a visitor if you feel up to it.”
I leaned forward, straining to listen to his response, but I couldn’t hear anything. He must have asked who it was, though, because Samantha added, “It’s Claire.”
That time, I could hear his voice say my name, sounding higher-pitched than usual. I held my breath, waiting to hear if he would turn me away, but he must not have said anything else because, suddenly, Samantha was saying, “Yeah, here she comes,” and stepping back into the hall. She smiled at me and held out her arm to usher me through the door.
I swallowed hard and stepped forward, pushing it open. Nick was propped up in bed, the covers pulled over his lap. The look he gave me stopped me in my tracks, and I paused in the doorway, wanting his permission to enter the room. “Can I come in, Nick?” I asked, feeling more awkward around him than I ever had before. It wasn’t his leg or lack thereof that made me uncomfortable. It was his attitude.
“I dunno, can you?” was his smartass reply. It wasn’t a no, so I took my chances and stepped inside. I tried to smile at him, but I’ll be honest; after how good he had looked the last time I saw him, it was hard to see him in the state he was in. I’d certainly seen him looking much sicker, but still, I could tell he’d had a rough few days. His hair looked greasy and disheveled, like it hadn’t been washed or even brushed in awhile. His face was pale, and his eyes were glazed, either from the pain or medication for the pain; I couldn’t tell which. I focused on his face, trying to avoid looking at his leg, but that was no less awkward with him staring back at me. In that moment, it seemed neither of us knew what to say.
I hadn’t even noticed that Brian was also in the room until he spoke up. “Claire… wow, I can’t believe it’s you. How are you doing?”
Startled, I looked over and saw him sitting in a chair on one side of the room. I forced myself to smile. “I’m fine, thanks. It’s great to see you again; how are you?” I replied automatically, as if we were having a normal conversation.
Brian nodded. “Doin’ okay.” Then he stood up. “Um, if you two will excuse me, I need to use the restroom,” he said and walked out, leaving Nick and me to go back to looking at each other.
Given the circumstances, I knew it was up to me to break the ice. “He sure left fast,” I said, making a face.
Nick didn’t miss a beat. “He’s got the shits.”
I smiled. “TMI.”
Nick didn’t smile back or say anything else. He fumbled with his covers, balling the sheets up in his fists. “Nick,” I whispered, feeling sorry for him. I could tell he was self-conscious, but I couldn’t hold out any longer; I had to look. I let my eyes drop briefly to the lump under the blankets - all that was left of his left leg. I wondered what it looked like under there, then wished I hadn’t. Shaking my head, I forced myself to look back at his face as I confessed, “I don’t know what to say.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “As long as it’s not ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘How are you doing,’ you can say anything you damn well please.”
It wasn’t exactly a friendly response, but it resonated with me. I remembered feeling the same way. “Well, I wasn’t going to say either of those things because I know that’s probably the last thing you want to hear, after already hearing it from everyone else.”
“Yeah. You got that right.”
“’Course I do,” I said boldly, taking another step forward. “Cause I know; I’ve been there.” I sat down on the edge of his bed and turned to look at him. He was looking down at his lap, determinedly avoiding eye contact. “And you know, Nick,” I added, “I’m not going to give you a big pep talk either, unless you want me to. I’m not going to be like, ‘You’re going to sail through this, Nick, and everything’s going to be all right.’ Because I dunno about you, but for me, that got old real fast.”
Nick nodded without looking up. “So what did you come to say?” he muttered.
“I told you, I don’t know. But I was here for a doctor’s appointment - my six month follow-up - and I stopped by the nurses station on the way out to say hey, and I overheard Samantha and another nurse talking… and it was about you.” I shook my head, the horror of that moment of realization still fresh in my mind. “God, Nick, I had no idea! Why didn’t you call me and tell me or something?”
His chin snapped up, and his eyes flashed with anger as they finally met mine. “Why should I have? The way you ran out on me on Valentine’s Day, I thought you never wanted to see or hear from me again.”
I squirmed guiltily, feeling horrible about how I’d treated him that night. I wished I hadn’t reacted so harshly, but of course, hindsight’s twenty/twenty. “That’s not true,” I said. “You’re my friend, Nick. And yeah, I was pretty mad at you that night, but you’re still my friend. And when I heard what had happened to you, I freaked. I just had to come see you, even if I didn’t know what to say, and even if we didn’t part on such good terms last time. I just wish I would have known sooner so I could have been there for you the way you were there for me during my transplant.”
To my surprise, a smile spread slowly across his face. “You can still be here for me,” he said, his voice cracking.
“Only if you want me to be,” I replied, hoping he would say he did. Up until then, I hadn’t realized how much I had missed him in the past few months. Sometimes it takes a tragedy to show how much someone means to you. I wanted to start spending more time with Nick, if there was still a place in his life for me. So much had changed, I wasn’t sure where we stood anymore.
But he didn’t even have to think about it, not for one second. “I want you here with me. I need you here with me,” was his emphatic answer. “We’ve been through so much shit together, Claire… I dunno if I can make it through this without you.”
I heard the pleading in his voice, saw the pain in his eyes, and knew - or at least genuinely thought - that I would never walk out on him again. I smiled, trying to reassure him of this, and said, “Then I’m here.”
Even though I had more room at the end of the bed, I moved up to the head so I could reach more of him than his remaining foot. I wanted to hug him, but I wasn’t sure how much physical pain he was in, so I smoothed his greaseball hair back off his forehead instead. “You know, I like you with hair.”
“Ditto,” Nick said, smiling up at me.
I smiled back, then bent down and kissed his forehead in the spot I’d cleared. The antiseptic smell of hospital clung to his skin, but beneath it, I could still smell him. Nick. I breathed in his scent, remembering the last time I’d been with him like this, a few weeks before my bone marrow transplant, when he’d lain with me on my bed, comforting me as I cried. The memory brought tears to my eyes, as I realized how the tables had turned. Now it was Nick who needed me.
“Hey now,” he warned, as I tried to blink back the tears. “I thought you weren’t going to feel sorry for me.”
“It’s not that,” I said, smiling as my voice cracked. I did feel sorry, but it wasn’t just for him. “It’s just… I missed you, Nick.”
He smiled and laced his fingers through mine, running his thumb over the back of my hand. “I missed you too, Claire.”
It was nice to hear the words, but it felt even better to hold his hand again.
Sometimes, you just have to let bygones be bygones. The past was forgotten. The future was uncertain. I tried not to think about any of it and just focus on the present, on being there for Nick in that moment. We were in our own world, back inside the bubble, and everything on the outside would just have to wait.
***
