xposted to Runaway Tales
Story: The Life of a Sarcastic Teenage Cancer Patient
A/N: This is my work in progress, my baby, my NaNo. Don't judge it too harshly? This takes place a few days after Sarah, my MC, is initially diagnosed. I'll post the beginning of the story as soon as I find a challenge that fits it :P
“Fine,” Al sighed. “They're gonna start your chemo soon, anyways.”
“How do you know?” There was a spark of annoyance in my voice that I hoped she didn't recognize.
“They always start chemo for the inpatients around four or so. It helps them keep the times right if it’s the same time every day.” She explained.
“Oh. Yippee.”
Sure enough, Al was right. No sooner than fifteen minutes later did Brittany waltz in with a bag of something that looked like fluids, accompanied by yet another few syringes. “Is that it?” I asked, yawning. I'd been right on the verge of sleep when she opened the door. “It looks just like water.”
“Well, it's not,” Brit said bluntly. “Very toxic stuff here, Sarah. So don't try and drink it.” She winked at me.
“Oh, darn,” I adopted a very sarcastic tone of voice. “You just ruined my plan!”
“We're going to start you on an eight hour dose of Zofran, with one milligram of Ativan.” She told me, setting up the syringe infusion pump. “If you start feeling sick, we can up the both of those a bit. There are also other drugs we can try.”
“Okay.” She'd put the Ativan in first, and I found my eyelids getting even heavier than they were. “See you in a bit,” I murmured, succumbing to the sandman.
... ... ...
“Sarah,” I heard Al's voice whine above me. “Time to get up! Brit just stuck her head in and said Tom's on his way up!”
I swatted at the air where I thought her face was, and stopped once I felt my hand meet skin. “This is a really not fun dream.”
“This isn't a dream, stupid. Wake up.” There was Christian.
“No.” I was determined.
“Fine. I guess you'll just miss out on the festivities then.” If Al thought that was going to get me out of bed, she better think again. Apparently, Chris knew that.
“Sarah, wake up and do what you promised or I start spilling embarrassing stories.”
“I'm up, I'm up!” My eyes shot open. “Don't have a cow.”
“Mom just went to find you a wheelchair,” he informed me, his face smug. “You're getting outta bed whether you like it or not.”
I stuck my tongue out at him. “Very mature, Bearie.” Christian just shook his head.
“Oh, shut it, Chris. Like you're more mature.” I teased.
“I am, thank you very much. I don't appreciate being treated like an imbecile, missy!” He turned to leave, and was halfway out the door before he turned back. “Just kidding. Kind of. I am gonna get going, though. I think Dad and I are gonna head home, if that's alright. It just seems kind of busy with all three of us here. Do you mind?” Christian looked at me eagerly with the puppy dog cancer eyes, the ones that said he'd do anything I asked.
I nodded. “You guys need sleep. All I'm going to be doing is hanging out with this freak and her friend,” I jerked my thumb towards Al. “Plus a little puking here and there, probably.”
“Aw, man, we should probably get out quick then,” Chris joked, and came over to my bed and kissed me on the top of my head. “I'll see you tomorrow, Bearie. Don't do anything I wouldn't do tonight, okay?”
“The question I have to ask there is, though, what wouldn't you do?” Oh, how I love my inner imp.
“Oh, shush.” Chris kissed my head one last time. “I'll send Dad back in to say good bye, and then we're gonna get out of here.”
He left the room right as Mom was coming in, victorious in her search for a wheelchair. “They leaving?” She asked me.
“Mhmm,” I nodded. “So... How are we gonna do this?” I asked, glancing nervously at the contraption. “This pole, that seat... Doesn't seem like the perfect combination.”
“We'll figure it out.” I wouldn't have been as worried if she'd sounded at least a little bit confident in that statement.
Dad came back in then, took one look at the chair, and us and almost cried he started laughing so hard. “C'mere, Sarah.” He held out his hands. “Lemme help.”
I put my hands in his and swung my legs around. Step by small step, we made our way to the chair, and I collapsed in it. “Thank. God.” I exclaimed. “Was it just me, or was that a lot more stressful than it should've been?”
“We'll get the hang of it,” Dad promised. “I'll see you tomorrow, Bear. Be good, okay?” He kissed my cheek. “Call me if you need absolutely anything, okay?” He made me swear before he left.
“Alright!” Al exclaimed, making me jump. I'd almost forgotten she was there. “Time to go meet Tom!"
“Ugh,” I muttered.
“I heard that!” Alyssa called as she led the way out of the room.
“You were meant to!" I called back. "I just hope you realize how amazing this is that you actually persuaded me to do this. The only one who's ever had that type of power over me before was Chris, and that's just because he's my brother.”
“I think he and I were twins separated at birth,” she informed me. “It makes sense, doesn't it?”
I thought about it. It actually did kind of make sense. Except for... “Except for the whole seven year age difference thing, you mean?”
“Technicality.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
We finally reached Tom's room. It took longer than I thought it would, considering it was just down the corridor, but I guess being in a chair with an IV pole strapped to the back of it is kind of a bit of a dead weight. There was a lot of moving around inside the room, and I wasn't sure if we should interrupt. “Al, maybe we should just come back later...” I suggested.
“Are you kidding me? I've been doing this since Thomas and I first met. It's a tradition. They're expecting me! And now you!” She just shook her head at me. “No backing out of this one, missy.”
Okay, maybe she and Christian were twins separated at birth by seven years and different families. He was the only other person who could read me like that. Although, to be fair, I wasn't exactly being sneaky about the fact that I didn't want to be here.
I didn't have any more time to ponder this, however, because Al was rapping on the door with her knuckles. “Thomas? Tommy boy! It's Al! Open up, weirdo!”
The door swung open and a smiling bald boy, also known as the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen, greeted us. “Al!” He exclaimed. “How are you?” Then, noticing I was there, he blushed. “Oh. Hi.”
“Sarah, this is Tom. Tom, meet Sarah, my new roomie.” Al stood there looking between the two of us expectantly, and I could tell she was thinking an “I told you so” towards me.
“Nice to meet you,” I said. Why was I suddenly shy? For these three days I've been in here, I've been nothing short of outgoing. And now that I meet this boy, I decide to go all shy?
“You too,” he said, sticking out his hand. We shook, and I almost forgot to let go. All I could think about was how smooth his hand was, and what it would feel like intertwined with mine for real.
My brain started working a millisecond later, though, and I let go in an acceptable period of time. “I suppose you're the culprit of that,” Tom sad, jerking his head towards the sign by his bed. “Nicely done.”
“How do you know it wasn't me?” Al pouted.
“Al, your idea of artwork consists of a stick figure crayon drawing and maybe a rainbow.”
“True.”
I shivered. “You've actually given him things like that before?”
“All the time,” Thomas said, while at the same time Al exclaimed “never!”
“Okay, fine,” she conceded. “Maybe every once in a while. But that's all gonna change now!”
Thomas raised his eyebrows at me. At least, he raised the skin where his eyebrows should be. Great. Just another thing to look forward to. Losing my eyebrows and eyelashes. “Yeah... We'll work on that,” I promised with my fingers crossed.
“Anyhoo.” Apparently, it was time to change the subject. “Where are your sisters?” Al peered inside his room. “I don't hear their usual brouhaha.”
“I cannot believe I'm friends with you,” he shook his head. “Brouhaha? Really Al?”
“Shut up,” she shoved him. “Where are the cute little devils?”
“Allison had a soccer game, and Lily wanted to go, so Mom took them. It's just me and Dad for now. They'll come visit tomorrow, though.”
“Thomas has the cutest younger sisters in the world,” Al explained. “Allison is ten, and Lily is six.”
“They're only cute 'cause they're not yours,” Tom grumbled.
“Funny, she thinks my older brother is the best thing ever, too,” I said.
“It's the only child syndrome,” he explained.
“Makes sense.”
“Stop making fun of me, you two!” Al gave the both of us a little shove, but I could tell she was glad we were hitting it off. “I can't help that the sperm donor didn't stick around to impregnate Mom again!”
“Truesies on that one,” Thomas agreed. “So, what're you in for Sarah?”
“Uh...” I didn't know what he meant by that.
“It's okay if you don't wanna tell me,” he added quickly. “I mean, I know diagnoses are pretty heavy stuff. You don't have to tell me if you don't want.”
“Oh! No, it's fine. I just didn't know what you meant. Osteosarcoma.” At least I could admit it now.
“Really?” Was it possible that he actually sounded… Excited about me having cancer? “Nice! I'm a sarcoma, too! High five,” he held up his hand and grinned.
I raised my hand as high as it could go, and he met me halfway. The resounding slap was loud enough to almost completely drown out the reason for the high five; the fact that we both had one of the same classifications of cancer.
“I'm Ewing's Sarcoma,” he confided.
“Alright, this is all great and whatever,” Al tapped her foot. “But we're kind of standing in the doorway. Are you going to invite us in, or do you wanna hit up the teen room? It's still open for another hour and a half.”
“Teen room?” And no one had told me about this before because...?
“Yeah. I mean, pediatric wards usually want to cater to their older patients, as well. 'Specially us cancer infested ones.” Al smiled. “One of the many benefits of cancer. Just you wait, see what your cancer card will bring you.”
I wasn't even going to touch that one right now. Better to just pretend like I know what I'm talking about. “Oh, right.”
“Let's head to the teen room,” Thomas deliberated. “They usually aren't big fans of girls being in guys room's without permission.”
“Jeez, it's just like camp,” I muttered, and he chuckled.
“Only better drugs!” Al chirped, and we all giggled.
... ... ...
The next hour and a half consisted of the same type of chatter that you would find in any high school, only with a couple of breaks to puke. So maybe a center for bulimia instead of a high school? Either way, Tom and I both were sick a couple of times each. Thankfully, the nurses were thoughtful enough to supply us with buckets specifically designed for puking into, so there was never any accidents or spilling. All throughout the hour and a half, I couldn't stop staring at him, save for when I wasn't physically able to. I couldn't believe that a boy with no hair could actually be that beautiful. He had green eyes that sparkled when he threw his head back and laughed, and somehow, I pictured him with black hair. When I asked, he laughed and said that yes, in fact, his hair was pretty dark before it fell out. “Only about an inch long or so, though,” he assured me. “Long hair doesn't really suit me. Gets in your eyes too much.” He looked at me, and took a hand to my hair. “Yours is beautiful, though. It suits you.”
I'd blushed for ten minutes straight, even after we'd changed the subject to school, the most un-blush-worthy topic there could be.
The room had to close at some point, though, and the nurses looked sorry to do it. “It's six thirty, kids,” Brit had stuck her head in to tell us. “You've got five more minutes, and then you've gotta get out.” We all moaned. “I know, I know. We hate to do it, but we've gotta keep you kids on a curfew somehow! I bet your 'rents would take you down to the Cafe to get food if you wanted to stick together, though.”
Tom and I both turned green at the mention of the f-word, and Brittany quickly backed up in her tracks. “Or not. You could all just go back to your room and get some anti-nausea meds and get a good night’s rest.”
That sounded like the better plan. We bid our adieus, and left the room. “It was great meeting you,” Thomas had said, giving me a prize worthy smile. “We're all gonna hang out tomorrow, right?”
“You know it, buster!” Al confirmed. “Is there ever a day you're here that we don't hang out?”
“Truesies,” Thomas said. I'd learned in that hour and a half, among other things, “truesies” was one of his favorite words.
Brit helped wheel me back into the room. “You girls have a fun time?” She asked, helping me back into bed.
“I did,” Al said, looking at me. “What about you, Sarah?”
“Yeah, it was nice,” I assured her. “Tom seems like a nice guy.”
“I told you so!” She crowed. “Isn't he amazing?”
“Yes, yes, you were right. I bow down to your amazing prediction skills.” I laughed.
“Finally! Someone recognizes me as the psychic extraordinaire that I am!”
“Okay, okay, come on now. You're not that good.”
She pouted. “Hey, look, your mom's napping.” Al whispered, pointing her chin towards Mom.
I looked over at the chair, and sure enough, her eyes were closed and her chest was gently moving up and down, the kind of relaxed movement you only get when you're asleep or completely at ease. I was hit by a sudden surge of affection for her. I knew that these past few days had been hard for me, but they must've been hard for her, too. Especially since she's hindered by the same inability to talk about feelings as I am. She was doing the best she could, though, and that was all I could ask for. No parent ever wants to see his or her kid go through this.
The affection was quickly replaced by nausea. “Ugh,” I moaned. “Moving. Not a good idea.” I'd barely reached for the bucket before vomit rose into my mouth, and I leaned over the side of the bed, not caring the pain that it caused me. I didn't want to get it all over the bed.
Mom was up in a flash, pulling back my hair. “Shh,” she soothed. “It's all okay, it's okay. Just get it out. Don't worry, baby, every thing's gonna be just fine.” She grabbed the pink bucket from the bedside table and held it under my mouth, but I was done. At least for now.
“Thanks,” I tried to smile, but couldn't quite make it. I may have gotten the puke out, but I still felt sick.
“Let me call Brit,” Mom said as she rubbed my back. “There's got to be some more nausea medication they can give you.”
I nodded and laid my head back against the cool of the pillow. “Thanks Mommy,” I whispered.
“Do you want something for your forehead? Or some ginger ale?” She was all about the attentiveness, acting like she would if I had the flu. Only difference now was that there was fear in her eyes, fear that I'd only seen once before, when we got a call saying that Christian had been in a car accident. It'd turned out that he'd only had that broken leg, but the call was terrifying, nonetheless.
“A washcloth,” I murmured. I know you're supposed to keep your fluids up when you're sick, but they were already pumping me full of those.
She went into the bathroom, emerging quickly with a white washcloth and a towel. Mom placed the washcloth in my hands, and I let it sit there for a minute before moving it to cover my eyes. “Thanks.” She murmured a reply before placing the towel over the puke on the ground.
“I'm going to go talk to Brittany now, okay?” I nodded with all the strength I could muster, and I heard her leave the room.
Al's TV was on, but it was low. I knew she could hear me. “Al?”
“What's up, Sarah? Do you need me to get your mom?” Jeez, even her voice sounded frantic.
“No, no. I just... Is it always this bad?”
I couldn't see her face, but her sadness filled the room to the brim. “Not always. It can actually be okay some days. Especially at the beginning of a cycle. And once they find the right balance of meds, some days you don't even feel sick at all.”
“Good. 'Cause I don't know if I could handle this every day.” In fact, I knew I couldn't.
Can I have an author tag, peas and carrots?
A/N: This is my work in progress, my baby, my NaNo. Don't judge it too harshly? This takes place a few days after Sarah, my MC, is initially diagnosed. I'll post the beginning of the story as soon as I find a challenge that fits it :P
“Fine,” Al sighed. “They're gonna start your chemo soon, anyways.”
“How do you know?” There was a spark of annoyance in my voice that I hoped she didn't recognize.
“They always start chemo for the inpatients around four or so. It helps them keep the times right if it’s the same time every day.” She explained.
“Oh. Yippee.”
Sure enough, Al was right. No sooner than fifteen minutes later did Brittany waltz in with a bag of something that looked like fluids, accompanied by yet another few syringes. “Is that it?” I asked, yawning. I'd been right on the verge of sleep when she opened the door. “It looks just like water.”
“Well, it's not,” Brit said bluntly. “Very toxic stuff here, Sarah. So don't try and drink it.” She winked at me.
“Oh, darn,” I adopted a very sarcastic tone of voice. “You just ruined my plan!”
“We're going to start you on an eight hour dose of Zofran, with one milligram of Ativan.” She told me, setting up the syringe infusion pump. “If you start feeling sick, we can up the both of those a bit. There are also other drugs we can try.”
“Okay.” She'd put the Ativan in first, and I found my eyelids getting even heavier than they were. “See you in a bit,” I murmured, succumbing to the sandman.
... ... ...
“Sarah,” I heard Al's voice whine above me. “Time to get up! Brit just stuck her head in and said Tom's on his way up!”
I swatted at the air where I thought her face was, and stopped once I felt my hand meet skin. “This is a really not fun dream.”
“This isn't a dream, stupid. Wake up.” There was Christian.
“No.” I was determined.
“Fine. I guess you'll just miss out on the festivities then.” If Al thought that was going to get me out of bed, she better think again. Apparently, Chris knew that.
“Sarah, wake up and do what you promised or I start spilling embarrassing stories.”
“I'm up, I'm up!” My eyes shot open. “Don't have a cow.”
“Mom just went to find you a wheelchair,” he informed me, his face smug. “You're getting outta bed whether you like it or not.”
I stuck my tongue out at him. “Very mature, Bearie.” Christian just shook his head.
“Oh, shut it, Chris. Like you're more mature.” I teased.
“I am, thank you very much. I don't appreciate being treated like an imbecile, missy!” He turned to leave, and was halfway out the door before he turned back. “Just kidding. Kind of. I am gonna get going, though. I think Dad and I are gonna head home, if that's alright. It just seems kind of busy with all three of us here. Do you mind?” Christian looked at me eagerly with the puppy dog cancer eyes, the ones that said he'd do anything I asked.
I nodded. “You guys need sleep. All I'm going to be doing is hanging out with this freak and her friend,” I jerked my thumb towards Al. “Plus a little puking here and there, probably.”
“Aw, man, we should probably get out quick then,” Chris joked, and came over to my bed and kissed me on the top of my head. “I'll see you tomorrow, Bearie. Don't do anything I wouldn't do tonight, okay?”
“The question I have to ask there is, though, what wouldn't you do?” Oh, how I love my inner imp.
“Oh, shush.” Chris kissed my head one last time. “I'll send Dad back in to say good bye, and then we're gonna get out of here.”
He left the room right as Mom was coming in, victorious in her search for a wheelchair. “They leaving?” She asked me.
“Mhmm,” I nodded. “So... How are we gonna do this?” I asked, glancing nervously at the contraption. “This pole, that seat... Doesn't seem like the perfect combination.”
“We'll figure it out.” I wouldn't have been as worried if she'd sounded at least a little bit confident in that statement.
Dad came back in then, took one look at the chair, and us and almost cried he started laughing so hard. “C'mere, Sarah.” He held out his hands. “Lemme help.”
I put my hands in his and swung my legs around. Step by small step, we made our way to the chair, and I collapsed in it. “Thank. God.” I exclaimed. “Was it just me, or was that a lot more stressful than it should've been?”
“We'll get the hang of it,” Dad promised. “I'll see you tomorrow, Bear. Be good, okay?” He kissed my cheek. “Call me if you need absolutely anything, okay?” He made me swear before he left.
“Alright!” Al exclaimed, making me jump. I'd almost forgotten she was there. “Time to go meet Tom!"
“Ugh,” I muttered.
“I heard that!” Alyssa called as she led the way out of the room.
“You were meant to!" I called back. "I just hope you realize how amazing this is that you actually persuaded me to do this. The only one who's ever had that type of power over me before was Chris, and that's just because he's my brother.”
“I think he and I were twins separated at birth,” she informed me. “It makes sense, doesn't it?”
I thought about it. It actually did kind of make sense. Except for... “Except for the whole seven year age difference thing, you mean?”
“Technicality.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
We finally reached Tom's room. It took longer than I thought it would, considering it was just down the corridor, but I guess being in a chair with an IV pole strapped to the back of it is kind of a bit of a dead weight. There was a lot of moving around inside the room, and I wasn't sure if we should interrupt. “Al, maybe we should just come back later...” I suggested.
“Are you kidding me? I've been doing this since Thomas and I first met. It's a tradition. They're expecting me! And now you!” She just shook her head at me. “No backing out of this one, missy.”
Okay, maybe she and Christian were twins separated at birth by seven years and different families. He was the only other person who could read me like that. Although, to be fair, I wasn't exactly being sneaky about the fact that I didn't want to be here.
I didn't have any more time to ponder this, however, because Al was rapping on the door with her knuckles. “Thomas? Tommy boy! It's Al! Open up, weirdo!”
The door swung open and a smiling bald boy, also known as the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen, greeted us. “Al!” He exclaimed. “How are you?” Then, noticing I was there, he blushed. “Oh. Hi.”
“Sarah, this is Tom. Tom, meet Sarah, my new roomie.” Al stood there looking between the two of us expectantly, and I could tell she was thinking an “I told you so” towards me.
“Nice to meet you,” I said. Why was I suddenly shy? For these three days I've been in here, I've been nothing short of outgoing. And now that I meet this boy, I decide to go all shy?
“You too,” he said, sticking out his hand. We shook, and I almost forgot to let go. All I could think about was how smooth his hand was, and what it would feel like intertwined with mine for real.
My brain started working a millisecond later, though, and I let go in an acceptable period of time. “I suppose you're the culprit of that,” Tom sad, jerking his head towards the sign by his bed. “Nicely done.”
“How do you know it wasn't me?” Al pouted.
“Al, your idea of artwork consists of a stick figure crayon drawing and maybe a rainbow.”
“True.”
I shivered. “You've actually given him things like that before?”
“All the time,” Thomas said, while at the same time Al exclaimed “never!”
“Okay, fine,” she conceded. “Maybe every once in a while. But that's all gonna change now!”
Thomas raised his eyebrows at me. At least, he raised the skin where his eyebrows should be. Great. Just another thing to look forward to. Losing my eyebrows and eyelashes. “Yeah... We'll work on that,” I promised with my fingers crossed.
“Anyhoo.” Apparently, it was time to change the subject. “Where are your sisters?” Al peered inside his room. “I don't hear their usual brouhaha.”
“I cannot believe I'm friends with you,” he shook his head. “Brouhaha? Really Al?”
“Shut up,” she shoved him. “Where are the cute little devils?”
“Allison had a soccer game, and Lily wanted to go, so Mom took them. It's just me and Dad for now. They'll come visit tomorrow, though.”
“Thomas has the cutest younger sisters in the world,” Al explained. “Allison is ten, and Lily is six.”
“They're only cute 'cause they're not yours,” Tom grumbled.
“Funny, she thinks my older brother is the best thing ever, too,” I said.
“It's the only child syndrome,” he explained.
“Makes sense.”
“Stop making fun of me, you two!” Al gave the both of us a little shove, but I could tell she was glad we were hitting it off. “I can't help that the sperm donor didn't stick around to impregnate Mom again!”
“Truesies on that one,” Thomas agreed. “So, what're you in for Sarah?”
“Uh...” I didn't know what he meant by that.
“It's okay if you don't wanna tell me,” he added quickly. “I mean, I know diagnoses are pretty heavy stuff. You don't have to tell me if you don't want.”
“Oh! No, it's fine. I just didn't know what you meant. Osteosarcoma.” At least I could admit it now.
“Really?” Was it possible that he actually sounded… Excited about me having cancer? “Nice! I'm a sarcoma, too! High five,” he held up his hand and grinned.
I raised my hand as high as it could go, and he met me halfway. The resounding slap was loud enough to almost completely drown out the reason for the high five; the fact that we both had one of the same classifications of cancer.
“I'm Ewing's Sarcoma,” he confided.
“Alright, this is all great and whatever,” Al tapped her foot. “But we're kind of standing in the doorway. Are you going to invite us in, or do you wanna hit up the teen room? It's still open for another hour and a half.”
“Teen room?” And no one had told me about this before because...?
“Yeah. I mean, pediatric wards usually want to cater to their older patients, as well. 'Specially us cancer infested ones.” Al smiled. “One of the many benefits of cancer. Just you wait, see what your cancer card will bring you.”
I wasn't even going to touch that one right now. Better to just pretend like I know what I'm talking about. “Oh, right.”
“Let's head to the teen room,” Thomas deliberated. “They usually aren't big fans of girls being in guys room's without permission.”
“Jeez, it's just like camp,” I muttered, and he chuckled.
“Only better drugs!” Al chirped, and we all giggled.
... ... ...
The next hour and a half consisted of the same type of chatter that you would find in any high school, only with a couple of breaks to puke. So maybe a center for bulimia instead of a high school? Either way, Tom and I both were sick a couple of times each. Thankfully, the nurses were thoughtful enough to supply us with buckets specifically designed for puking into, so there was never any accidents or spilling. All throughout the hour and a half, I couldn't stop staring at him, save for when I wasn't physically able to. I couldn't believe that a boy with no hair could actually be that beautiful. He had green eyes that sparkled when he threw his head back and laughed, and somehow, I pictured him with black hair. When I asked, he laughed and said that yes, in fact, his hair was pretty dark before it fell out. “Only about an inch long or so, though,” he assured me. “Long hair doesn't really suit me. Gets in your eyes too much.” He looked at me, and took a hand to my hair. “Yours is beautiful, though. It suits you.”
I'd blushed for ten minutes straight, even after we'd changed the subject to school, the most un-blush-worthy topic there could be.
The room had to close at some point, though, and the nurses looked sorry to do it. “It's six thirty, kids,” Brit had stuck her head in to tell us. “You've got five more minutes, and then you've gotta get out.” We all moaned. “I know, I know. We hate to do it, but we've gotta keep you kids on a curfew somehow! I bet your 'rents would take you down to the Cafe to get food if you wanted to stick together, though.”
Tom and I both turned green at the mention of the f-word, and Brittany quickly backed up in her tracks. “Or not. You could all just go back to your room and get some anti-nausea meds and get a good night’s rest.”
That sounded like the better plan. We bid our adieus, and left the room. “It was great meeting you,” Thomas had said, giving me a prize worthy smile. “We're all gonna hang out tomorrow, right?”
“You know it, buster!” Al confirmed. “Is there ever a day you're here that we don't hang out?”
“Truesies,” Thomas said. I'd learned in that hour and a half, among other things, “truesies” was one of his favorite words.
Brit helped wheel me back into the room. “You girls have a fun time?” She asked, helping me back into bed.
“I did,” Al said, looking at me. “What about you, Sarah?”
“Yeah, it was nice,” I assured her. “Tom seems like a nice guy.”
“I told you so!” She crowed. “Isn't he amazing?”
“Yes, yes, you were right. I bow down to your amazing prediction skills.” I laughed.
“Finally! Someone recognizes me as the psychic extraordinaire that I am!”
“Okay, okay, come on now. You're not that good.”
She pouted. “Hey, look, your mom's napping.” Al whispered, pointing her chin towards Mom.
I looked over at the chair, and sure enough, her eyes were closed and her chest was gently moving up and down, the kind of relaxed movement you only get when you're asleep or completely at ease. I was hit by a sudden surge of affection for her. I knew that these past few days had been hard for me, but they must've been hard for her, too. Especially since she's hindered by the same inability to talk about feelings as I am. She was doing the best she could, though, and that was all I could ask for. No parent ever wants to see his or her kid go through this.
The affection was quickly replaced by nausea. “Ugh,” I moaned. “Moving. Not a good idea.” I'd barely reached for the bucket before vomit rose into my mouth, and I leaned over the side of the bed, not caring the pain that it caused me. I didn't want to get it all over the bed.
Mom was up in a flash, pulling back my hair. “Shh,” she soothed. “It's all okay, it's okay. Just get it out. Don't worry, baby, every thing's gonna be just fine.” She grabbed the pink bucket from the bedside table and held it under my mouth, but I was done. At least for now.
“Thanks,” I tried to smile, but couldn't quite make it. I may have gotten the puke out, but I still felt sick.
“Let me call Brit,” Mom said as she rubbed my back. “There's got to be some more nausea medication they can give you.”
I nodded and laid my head back against the cool of the pillow. “Thanks Mommy,” I whispered.
“Do you want something for your forehead? Or some ginger ale?” She was all about the attentiveness, acting like she would if I had the flu. Only difference now was that there was fear in her eyes, fear that I'd only seen once before, when we got a call saying that Christian had been in a car accident. It'd turned out that he'd only had that broken leg, but the call was terrifying, nonetheless.
“A washcloth,” I murmured. I know you're supposed to keep your fluids up when you're sick, but they were already pumping me full of those.
She went into the bathroom, emerging quickly with a white washcloth and a towel. Mom placed the washcloth in my hands, and I let it sit there for a minute before moving it to cover my eyes. “Thanks.” She murmured a reply before placing the towel over the puke on the ground.
“I'm going to go talk to Brittany now, okay?” I nodded with all the strength I could muster, and I heard her leave the room.
Al's TV was on, but it was low. I knew she could hear me. “Al?”
“What's up, Sarah? Do you need me to get your mom?” Jeez, even her voice sounded frantic.
“No, no. I just... Is it always this bad?”
I couldn't see her face, but her sadness filled the room to the brim. “Not always. It can actually be okay some days. Especially at the beginning of a cycle. And once they find the right balance of meds, some days you don't even feel sick at all.”
“Good. 'Cause I don't know if I could handle this every day.” In fact, I knew I couldn't.
Can I have an author tag, peas and carrots?