“You’ve lost another five p
ounds.” Her lips purse as she looks down at my chart and thumbs through a few pages. “And your counts are a little low.”
“What does that mean?” I scoot forward on the table to try and peek at my chart, but it doesn’t matter—I don’t understand this stuff anyway.
“It’s expected, because that’s what chemo does, it kills off cells. But we pay particular attention to your white blood cells. Those are the ones that fight infection. If they drop too low, then I have to worry about you getting sick and we certainly don’t want that.” She keeps flipping through my chart and then looks up at me. “So you have a choice. Your numbers are low enough that I’m tempted to hold off on this treatment and hope they’re up for the next one. But if you’re feeling good and taking care of yourself, I wouldn’t be opposed to moving forward with your treatment today.”
“I’ve been doing well. My nausea isn’t bad as long as I take the medicine, and even then it only lasts for a few days after the chemo. I will admit though that I’m finding myself getting weaker and more fatigued.” My hands are clutched tightly in my lap, and I bite down on my bottom lip as I wait for her to respond.
“Chemotherapy is cumulative, so I expect your fatigue to get worse as your treatments progress. How have you been feeling otherwise?”
“Great.” I shrug. “Well, as good as can be expected. I’ve actually felt really lucky that I haven’t had more problems than I have.”
She nods her head in agreement. “You have been lucky. Your body has been tolerating your treatments well.” Dr. Hopkins closes my chart and sets it on the counter then turns back to me. “Okay, let’s go ahead with your treatment today, as long as you promise to call me if you start to feel sick at all . . . and by sick, I mean a cough, runny nose, earache, fever, anything.”
“Of course. I’ll call right away.”
“Okay then. Let’s get you started.” Dr. Hopkins opens the door for me and follows me out, stopping at the nurses’ station to hand them my chart. “I want you to come in next week and get your blood drawn, just so I can keep an eye on it, if that’s okay.”
“Absolutely. I’ll schedule it on my way out.” She pats me on the back and I head over to the treatment room. This entire process has become routine for me.
“Good morning, Laney.” I smile at Jamie, and she waves and smiles back. Jamie is one of my favorite nurses, probably because, like Harley, she’s the same age I am and therefore I can relate to her a little bit better.
“Mornin,’ Jamie.”
“Harley stole you from me today,” she calls from across the room.
“I heard,” I laugh, taking my usual seat in the back corner of the large room away from all the other patients. I’m not sure why I chose this spot. Maybe because it’s tucked against a wall, or because it’s the place I sat on my first day in this room. But it’s become a source of control. I can’t control what they put into my body and I can’t control how my body reacts, but I sure as heck can control where I sit my tushy!
Harley scoots toward me on her seat and positions herself in front of me with her IV cart. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” Like every other time, I offer up my left hand and she starts my IV, then flushes it before hooking me up to my chemo.
“Alright, Laney. You’re going.” She pats my hand gently and packs up her IV cart. “Let me know if you need something, and I’ll be by to check on you in a few.”
“Perfect. Thank you, Harley.” Reaching along the side of my chair, I pull my Kindle out of my purse and power it on, letting the words of the story carry me away. There is absolutely nothing better than getting wrapped up in a fictional world. It’s an outlet, a way to forget about your own life and your own problems, and it’s been a great means of escape these past few months.
“Laney?”
My head snaps up when Harley says my name. I take a quick glance at my watch, surprised to see her checking on me so soon. “What’s up?”
Her green eyes are sparkling and her smile is so big that it’s almost blinding. “Your visitor is here.”
My brows furrow and lips purse, and I shake my head. “I don’t have a visitor today,” I say slowly.
“Yes, you do.” She winks and then moves out of the way. My eyes instantly find Levi standing in the doorway. He looks absolutely gorgeous, and the sight of him alone brings tears to my eyes. My bottom lip trembles and I bite the inside of my cheek, determined to keep from crying. Levi’s face is a blank canvas as he walks toward me, his eyes bouncing from my face to the bags of liquid to the IV in my hand, then back to me. I can’t read him at all. There is nothing more that I want than to be able to know what he’s thinking . . . what he’s feeling.
“Hey.” His hoarse voice makes my heart rate spike and I take a slow, deep breath.
“Hey,” I sigh, shifting in my chair. “What are you doing here?”
Harley pushes a chair toward Levi and he grabs it, putting it as close to mine as he can get without disturbing the IV pole, and sits down. He reaches his hand out, lacing his fingers with mine, and I close my eyes, relieved that he’s here. I knew I needed him here and I was a stubborn fool for not asking him to come.
“Laney, open your eyes.” I peek up at him under my nonexistent lashes and he cocks his head to the side. “That’s a silly question, Lane. I’m here for you.” He leans forward, dropping a sweet kiss on my mouth. “I’m always here for you. I want to be here for you; you just have to let me.”
Tears drip out of the corner of my eyes and Levi catches them with his thumb. “I do want you here. I just . . .” I look away and blink several times, trying to collect my thoughts, and Levi grips my chin to pull my face back to his.
“You just what?”