Chapter 77
Nick managed to visit Claire every day for the next week without
getting caught (or without getting in trouble, anyway), but each visit grew
both harder and shorter. The medications
they were now giving her made her so sick that she couldn’t keep anything down,
so they had put in a feeding tube that ran into one of her nostrils and
descended all the way into her stomach.
The thought of that totally freaked Nick out, but Claire swore it wasn’t
painful. The drugs also made her swell
with retained fluid so that she looked like she had put on another twenty
pounds or so, and they made her so groggy that some of the time, she could
barely carry on coherent conversation.
He would sit at her side and hold her hand while she drifted off to
sleep, hoping that once the transplant would be over, she would get better. He hated seeing her so sick and out of it.
When the day of Claire’s transplant rolled around, even Samantha
cracked down on the visiting rules.
“Only immediate family members will be allowed in for at least a
week,” Samantha told him seriously before he left on Thursday afternoon, the
day before the transplant.
“Can I call her?”
“If that’s okay with her,” answered Samantha.
Nick was sure it would be.
He knew how lonely Claire got in that place with only the doctor and
nurses and her family to talk to (when she was awake and lucid, that was) and
made a mental note to call her the next day.
The transplant would take place the following morning, but from what
Claire had explained to him, it was very different from an organ
transplant. Her brother Kyle would be
put under anesthesia while the doctors extracted bone marrow from him, but
Claire would be wide awake and receive the marrow through an IV, just like a
blood transfusion. This put his mind to
ease. At least they wouldn’t have to cut
into her on top of everything else.
Nick called the hospital around eleven the next day and was put
through to Claire’s room.
“Hello?” a female voice answered, but it was not Claire’s.
“Hi… this is Nick… um, is Claire there?” Stupid question, Carter.
“Oh, hi, Nick. This is
Carrie,” answered Claire’s mother.
“She’s right here; hang on, I’ll give her the phone.”
“Okay.” Nick waited,
hearing muffled voices in the background.
A moment later, Claire got on the line. “Hello?”
Her voice sounded weak.
“Hey, Claire? It’s me…
what’s going on?”
“Hey… nothin’ much, just waiting.”
“Waiting?”
“For the bone marrow.
Kyle’s not out of surgery yet.”
“Oh… okay. Well… hang in
there.”
“I’m hanging.”
He chuckled, picturing her smiling on the other line. But then the tension overcame them both, and
they fell into silence, neither knowing what to say. Nick couldn’t even imagine how nervous she
must be; he was anxious enough himself.
“Oh my gosh,” Claire said suddenly, drawing in a sharp
breath. “There comes my nurse… I think
this is it, Nick.” She let out a weak
laugh.
“All right!” he said, clutching the phone tightly.
“Okay, I need to hang up now,” said Claire. “Talk to you later?”
“Sure,” Nick replied. “And,
hey, I have my doctor’s appointment tomorrow, so I’ll drop by, okay? I know they won’t let me in your room, but
maybe I can just wave through your window or something?”
“Yeah, do that,” said Claire eagerly. “You gotta let me know how your appointment
goes.”
Nick drew in a breath.
“Yeah, I will,” he promised.
“Well, okay… I’ll let you go now.
Good luck. You’re gonna be just
fine.”
“Thanks,” Claire said shakily.
“See you tomorrow.”
“See you.”
They hung up, and Nick set to pacing back and forth across his
kitchen, as if Claire would call back in the next five minutes to tell him
whether or not the transplant worked. Ha, yeah right, as if it would be that
instantaneous. He knew it would take a
matter of days to tell if Kyle’s marrow was working at all, and even after
that, there was still the risk of rejection.
He knew all of this, and still, he paced, not knowing what else to
do. If it wasn’t bad enough to have to
sit at home and wait while Claire went through all of this, the doctor’s
appointment looming before him was beginning to make him nervous. He wanted so badly for Dr. Kingsbury to tell
him that he was in remission, but what if she didn’t? That would mean more chemo and more worrying,
and that was the last thing he needed right now. His nerves were shot enough as it was
***
“You’re awfully jittery today,” Dr. Kingsbury remarked the
following morning, as she examined Nick.
“Sorry,” replied Nick, trying not to flinch as her ice cold
stethoscope touched his skin. “I’m just
kind of anxious, I guess,” he admitted.
“Anxious about what?”
“To find out if I’m in remission or not,” he said, looking at her
hopefully.
“Well, I hope you are,” she said, giving him a smile, “but I don’t
want to give you false hope. Things were
looking good at your last appointment, but I won’t know anything definite till
I get your test results.”
He nodded. “Um, what tests
are you running today?” he asked in what he hoped was an offhanded sort of
way. Really, the big question was would
he have to endure another bone marrow?
If his calculations were right, the last one had been at his third
appointment with her, and this was his sixth.
So if she wanted to continue doing them every three appointments, then
that meant…
“I’m afraid it’s the works this time,” Dr. Kingsbury replied
sympathetically. “CT scan, chest x-ray,
and-“
“Bone marrow,” he finished despondently for her.
“You got it,” she said with a nod.
“So if the test showed that the cancer had spread to my bone
marrow, would I have to have a bone marrow transplant?” Nick asked.
Dr. Kingsbury nodded. “Once
it spreads to the bone marrow, a transplant is really the only treatment
option. Chemotherapy can buy time, but
it’s no cure.”
“Yeah,” Nick said dully. “A
friend of mine just had a bone marrow transplant yesterday. She’s here in this hospital. Claire Ryan – you know her?”
“Claire Ryan… no, I don’t think so. Do you know who her oncologist is?”
“Um, I dunno, it’s some Spanish last name… Rodrigo, I think? Or Rodriguez?
Something like that?”
“Oh, Rodrigo, yes. Dr.
Malee Rodrigo. She’s an excellent
oncologist. She specializes in lymphomas
and leukemia. Is that what your friend
has?”
“Leukemia, yeah,” answered Nick.
“So do you specialize in bone cancer then?”
“Yes,” said Dr. Kingsbury.
“I’m officially called an orthopedic oncologist. I’ve had training to treat all kinds of
cancer, but I mostly deal with kinds of bone cancer.”
Nick nodded, wondering how she could stand seeing all those people
with cancer. It sounded like a horribly
depressing job to have. Then again, she
was making a difference. Without people
like her, he might have been dead by then.
The thought of that sent icy chills running down his spine, so he tried
to push it away. Think happy
thoughts, Nick. Happy thoughts.
Like what, the bone marrow test?
AHH!
It was a no-win situation.
But hopefully, he would walk out of the clinic that day with some good
news. And if he had to suffer through
another bone marrow aspiration in order to get that good news, it was worth it.
There you go, Nick, he coached
himself. Look on the bright
side. Cup half full, right?
Yeah. Right.
All this thinking was making his head hurt, just like the worrying
was making his stomach hurt. He would be
very glad when this was all over.
***