Chapter 79
Hours later, Nick sat at his kitchen table, warily eyeing the five
brown prescription bottles sitting in front of him. Each of their names and dosages had been put
onto a chart for him to follow, and studying it, he felt overwhelmed. The only medications he’d ever been on were
simple, everyday things… antibiotics for strep throat and ear infections, pills
for allergies and migraines… basic stuff like that. And now, suddenly, he had a strict schedule
of various drugs to take, and from the looks of things, he had to stick
to the schedule. In the morning, before
breakfast, he was to take Melphalan, a chemotherapy drug that came in the form
of small, white capsules. Then after
that came Zofran, an anti-nausea drug that would easily combat the mild side
effects of the chemotherapy drugs. At
lunch time, he would swallow a tablet of Cytoxan, another anticancer drug, and
at night, a second dose of Zofran and big blue horse pill called
Lomustine. And every Thursday, he was to
take six tiny yellow pills of a drug called Methotrexate.
It was just plain daunting.
How was he ever going to stick to this tight regimen once he got
back to his usual busy life – traveling and working and such? Because he definitely would get back
to doing all those things, as soon as possible.
He had been stuck at home being sick for far too long; he was itching to
get back into studio, dying to get back on stage. Cancer had knocked him down, that was for
sure, but he would not let it keep him down.
He was fine now, and he wanted to get his life back to normal.
And yet, as he stared at the four small medicine bottles, his name
unmistakably typed across their labels, he knew things would never be
completely normal again. Even if he was
well again, he had had cancer, and he knew that was something he was never
going to forget, no matter how much he wanted to. The medications, for one, would be a constant
reminder that he was no longer the picture of health he had once been.
He glanced at the clock, deciding he’d forget about his noon pills
and start out with the evening ones instead, since it was already almost one in
the afternoon. After his appointment
that morning, he’d stopped by the nurses station to ask for Samantha, who,
beaming when she heard his good news, had no problem in taking him to the
isolation ward. She would not, however,
let him into Claire’s room, so he settled on visiting through her window.
“I’m in remission!” he had mouthed exaggeratedly, flashing her a
wide grin and a double thumbs up and hoping she had understood. She apparently had, for her pasty, pinched
face had broken into a toothy smile, and she had given him the thumbs up
back. He had left shortly after that,
finding that it was really quite hard to mouth things so she could tell what he
was trying to say and to read her lips in return.
That, and the fact that… well… she just hadn’t looked well. She had looked bad the last time he had seen
her, two days earlier, but since the transplant… was it possible that she was
worse? Her skin was just so pale… and
she had seemed very weak, lying on her back in bed, her head just barely
propped up so that she could see him at the window. It made him uneasy, for despite her illness,
Claire had always radiated so much energy… and now, seeing her so listless…
well, it just hurt. Especially now that
he was in remission himself and getting better.
He desperately wanted the same thing for her, and he knew that if the
bone marrow transplant worked, she would be cured. But so far, it didn’t look like it was
working too well.
Then again, he had never had much in the patience department, so
maybe these things just took time. That
was what he kept telling himself, that all Claire needed was a while longer to
recuperate, and then she’d be better.
I’ll call her later, he thought to
himself, figuring that maybe actually talking to her, hearing her voice, would
put his mind at ease.
But first, he had to call someone else.
Picking up the phone, he punched in the familiar digits and
listened to the phone ring on the other end of the line. Finally, a male voice answered in his light
Kentucky drawl, “Hello?”
“Hey, Kev, it’s me,” Nick said casually, smirking as he tried his
hardest not to blurt out the news.
“Nick? That you, buddy?”
Kevin asked quickly.
“Yup. Wassup, old man?”
“Nothin’ too much, kid… how about you? I mean, um… how’ve you been doing?”
Nick smiled; he had predicted that line. It was pretty much what all the guys opened
their conversations with – “How have you been doing?” Or sometimes, for a change, “How have you
been feeling?” It usually annoyed him to
no end, but today, he didn’t mind one bit.
“Peachy,” he replied. “I
just got back from my doctor’s appointment a little while ago.”
“Oh yeah?” Kevin tried
sound casual. “And?”
“And…” Nick stretched the
word out and left a hearty pause for good measure, leaving Kevin hanging. It was fun to mess with his mind. Then again, in this circumstance, it was also
pretty mean, so he finished in one breath, “I’m in remission.”
“Remission?” Kevin repeated.
“Oh thank God… thank God…”
Nick wasn’t sure if Kevin was talking to him or actually thanking
the Lord, so he just answered, “Yup.”
“Oh, Nick… this is just great… so what did your doctor say?”
“Uh, that I’m in remission.”
“Well, I figured that, dumbass,” Kevin said with fond
exasperation. “But… I dunno, she didn’t
say anything else?”
“Not really,” Nick replied with a shrug. “She gave me some prescriptions for all these
drugs that I gotta take and said I don’t gotta come back for a check-up for
like three months. Kick ass, right?”
“For sure, bro!”
“So, yeah, anyway,” Nick continued, “now that I’m good to go… when
you wanna get back in the studio?”
There was a pause, and then, just as Nick figured he would, Kevin
said sternly, “The studio? Nick, you
need time to recuperate… we can’t just get back in the studio right away. You just need to rest for awhile, man, get
your strength back and everything.”
“I have been resting!” Nick protested. “What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing
for the past two and a half months? All
I’ve done is hang out at home and ‘rest’. We have an album to finish!”
“I know, and I’m glad you’re so enthusiastic about it, but, Nick…
it’s too soon. Really. Take some more time off, and we’ll get back
to work on the album when you’re healthy again.”
“I am healthy again!”
He was starting to sound like a child throwing a temper tantrum, but he
didn’t care. He knew Kevin would be
against the idea of working on the album so soon, but he was not backing down. He knew he wasn’t even close to being back to
100% yet, but he was sure he would be soon, and he couldn’t bear to put off the
album any longer. Cancer had torn him
down; now he needed music to build him back up.
‘Let the music heal your soul,’ right?
Kevin sighed loudly. “Okay,
Nick. Listen, maybe the five of us can get
together next week, just to talk about the album and figure out something. That sound okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” replied Nick.
“Have you called any of them yet?”
“Not yet,” Nick answered.
Brian was next on his list, but he had decided to call Kevin first. Somehow, he knew that his bout with cancer
had affected Kevin more deeply than any of the others. After watching his own father die of the
dreaded disease, Kevin was probably terrified the same thing would happen to
Nick. Not to mention that he had always
had this paternal instinct when it came to the Boys, especially with Nick. Nick absolutely hated it sometimes and loved
it at others. Daddy Kevin… there was no
one else like him. He had deserved to
hear the good news first, and Nick was glad he had called him before the
others.
“Okay… well, call me back later once you talk to them, and we’ll
make some plans. I can talk to
management for you if you want. They’ll
probably want us to do a press conference or another TRL appearance or
something.”
“Yeah…” Nick hadn’t really
considered that, but of course, Kevin was right. Somehow, the thought of going on TV or
sitting in a room surrounded by reporters shoving microphones and cameras in
his face wasn’t too appealing, especially with the way he looked now. Like a freak.
The fans would probably be shocked when they saw him. But there was no getting around it; he knew
they’d want to know he was okay, and to assure them of that, he’d have to be
there in person, not just let the other guys give the news without him.
“Nick? That sound
okay?” Kevin’s voice barged into his
thoughts.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s cool,” said Nick. “Well, listen, I better call Bri now and tell
him, okay?”
“Sure. Thanks for calling
me, buddy. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Later, Kev.”
A slight smile turning up his lips, Nick turned off the phone,
only to turn it on once again and dial Brian’s house.
***