The moment he was aware of his consciousness, he felt dizzy. But it was the good dizzy. Of course, anything made him nauseous, but this had been the dizzy like he had lifted his head too quickly; it soon passed. The next moment, he felt an immense pressure and that, that made him the bad dizzy. Struggling to gain his bearings and control his senses, he felt a hand rest gently on his arm, stiffening up at the touch, unsure of who it was.
"Easy, Josh," the voice said soothingly, "just let yourself wake up slow. Take slow breaths. It'll get better once you settle."
He struggled with his eyelids, they feeling like lead as he pried them open, groaning at the dim lights above him as they stung at his corneas. "How long have I been asleep?"
Lauren glanced up at the overhead clock, smiling as she looked back down at the curious face. "Only about forty-five minutes. They all left to go back into the waiting room as you rested. Well, except your mom; she went to go sign the release papers so they could take you home once you recovered enough from the anesthesia."
He nodded, swallowing roughly against what felt like a giant cotton ball. He cringed at the thought. "I'm gonna be in pain soon, aren't I?"
"Hopefully not too much pain, but I think once you get home and settled, it may start to feel a little bit uncomfortable."
He looked down at the covered area of his chest underneath his hospital gown. "Well, I've officially gained a side nubbin."
She chuckled, patting his knee as she sat down on the chair that his mother had occupied earlier. "I'm going to let you have a day or two to settle in before I start my rounds at your place, is that okay? I know it's hard to have to accept help sometimes ..."
"It's fine," he said softly, eyes traveling away from her and back to his hands that played at the threads of the thin sheet covering him. "It's the one thing I can admit defeat to; Justin shouldn't have to do this alone. No one should, really."
"It's not going to be long house calls," she said, giving him an encouraging smile. "Just in and out to make sure you're taking your meds, that you're feeling well; you know, routine stuff. I've also gotta keep an eye on the port while your body heals around it."
"Am I ever going to be able to get this removed?"
She looked at him, the man lying in the bed merely a foot away looking as if he had lost his best friend in the entire world. He looked so tired, so emotionally exhausted; she couldn't help but feel sorry and feel a bit of his own emotional pain. He was different than the rest ... she was sure of this. "Once the leukemia goes into remission, there's always the option of having the port removed. You'd only have a scar about a centimeter long and if you heal well, it may not even be evident that it was once there."
"Good, because I don't like it already."
"Nobody does, honey."
He sighed, opening his mouth to speak but being stopped at the loud voice at the door.
"So Sleeping Beauty decided to wake the hell up already?"
He rolled his eyes, to tired to make a smarter remark than what rolled off of his tongue. "Shut up, Chris."
Lance pushed his way through Chris' body and the doorframe, smiling at his friend. "Your dad went to get the car, your mom is on the phone giving Heather an update and as you can see, dumbass and gang are here waiting on you to finally get up and out of bed."
"Never thought I'd say this, but I'm a little comfortable in this bed."
"A hospital bed?!"
He smirked, giving them a half smile. "Yeah, well, don't act too surprised; this is me, we're talking about here. I can basically sleep anywhere and deem it comfortable."
"Yeah, but you were like, 24! Now, you're like ... old!"
"Screw you, Christopher. If I do recall ... you are like five years older than me. Knocking on forty's door quite shortly."
"I hate you."
JC grinned, blinking roughly as he still struggled with his vision. "God, I hoped I wouldn't have to use my glasses, but apparently, I do."
"Ah, see, you're an old man."
He rolled his eyes, reaching for the case on the stand next to him as he pulled it open, putting the small black frames onto his nose and on top of his ears as his vision slowly came back to him. "Wow, you guys look like shit."
Justin and Chris began chuckling as Lance rolled his eyes, Joey the only one looking at him incredulously. "Are you kidding me? We are the best looking things in here right now! Well, at least I am!"
"Right. And I’m cancer-free."
The room quieted, he scanning his eyes from all four men. What a way to silence a room quickly.
"Joke, guys. C’mon. Can’t the sick one have any fun?"
"Not when it deals with Cancer."
He sighed, looking down and playing with the bandage on his chest. "Well, I got a third … nipple out of the deal."
"Well, at least this one will be put to use," Chris chuckled. "Seeing as you haven’t gotten any ass since 2002."
"Argh, you only wish it’s been that long," he grinned. "Try … a month before diagnosis."
"That long ago?"
"Fuck you."
They all chuckled at his pouty response, Lauren coming in once more and checking his clipboard and speaking softly to him. Justin saw the gentleness in her gaze as she watched him react to her conversation, saw as he slightly chuckled when she began unhooking the IV, cleaning the area where the needle had been and placing a small bandage to it.
JC hadn't even noticed the needle leaving his skin.
Justin grinned. Leave it to a woman to keep his mind elsewhere.
As she left, he couldn't help but notice that all four men was grinning like the Cheshire Cat at JC, who sat upright on the bed, still drugged and a little woozy, but unfazed. His mother and father were reviewing the papers, oblivious to the looks. "Guys ... what the hell are you grinning at?"
"JC's got a crush!"
They all laughed at Joey's girlish outburst, JC's face reddening slightly as he rolled his eyes. "Oh, grow up; she's my nurse."
"And the fantasies begin to play out!"
"Joe, dude! My parents are in the room!"
"As are your big boy pants," he grinned, JC waving him off as he leaned backward, placing his head on the pillow once more as he sighed deeply. "She has to come back and check my bandage -"
"Is that what you kids are calling it these days? Hell, I've got two kids, I don't get any to know the lingo anymore!"
"Jesus, Joe! You're 32, not 12."
"JC's in pain, he's cranky," Lance noted, watching as their friend closed his eyes, shaking his head as he swallowed roughly, he looking as if he were concentrating a little too hard on getting the pain to go away. "You want some of your meds?"
"They said not to take any until I got home, so let's get this show on the road now." He groaned when he lifted himself back up, touching it gently. "Mild discomfort, my ass."
"All right, handsome ..." Lauren's voice filtered into the room as she pushed a wheelchair in, gesturing towards the seat, "let's get you to your car."
He nodded, slowly pushing himself up; partially pained and groggy, though trying to mask it and make it without the aid of anyone else. He may not have had everything at that moment, but he still had his stubborness.
She helped him make himself comfortable, pushing him through the door as the others followed, Lance and Justin lagging behind. They looked at each other, smirking. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Justin grinned, gesturing his head back at the retreating group. "If it involves a hot nurse and a patient, then maybe?"
Lance laughed, following Justin through the doors as they headed towards the elevators. "That's gonna be his wife someday."
"How do you know that?"
"Ah, c'mon; it's love at first sponge bath. You'll see it. Trust me."
"I'd rather not see JC get a sponge bath."
Lance laughed at the mental image that Justin must have developed, shaking his head. "No, no, not that," he chuckled, "but that's definitely a story for him not to tell his kids ..." He slowed his pace a little, glancing at the group once more, JC looking as if he were going to fall asleep where he sat. "He's gonna fall for her quicker than Joey did down the trap."
Justin grinned. "We'll see man; we'll see."
"God, just shoot me now ..."
"Oh, it can't be that bad," Roy said, patting JC on the leg as he pushed himself weakly into a sitting position in his bed once more, lifting his shirt as Roy peeled the bandages off of the port and cleaning the area. "It's only a small area, Josh."
"I'll put it in your chest and see if it doesn't feel like someone is sitting on it," he murmured, closing his eyes tightly as the medicine stung slightly. "Seriously, dad, just go get a gun and put it at the port; I'm sure it'll damage me good enough."
"Oh enough, Joshua," he warned, glancing up at his oldest son. "You will get used to it and before you know it, will be going back to get it removed."
"Yeah, with my luck ..."
"No, you will," Roy pressed, patting JC's arm to let him drop the t-shirt. "Dr. Kleinfield said you were doing great."
"He doesn't know shit," he murmured, Roy sighing in frustration and sadness for his son. "Dad, can you just, go? I'm tired, I wanna sleep."
"Sure," he said, getting up and looking at him. He looked unsure for a moment, but with a stutter step, his father leaned forward, placing a kiss to the top of JC's head. "I love you, Josh. But I hate when you speak of your future like you won't be in it. Please stop, for at least yourself."
JC, still slightly taken aback by his father's actions that he had not done since he was at least fourteen, nodded slightly, watching his father go without so much as a look back over his shoulder at him.
It was hard for him; no one understood anything going through his head - they didn't have AML. Some days he felt okay enough to brave the world, others, well, others were bad days, to put it lightly. From the moment he woke up from his nap, it seemed as if it had taken a turn for the worse.
He immediately thought about the times that he and the guys would take trips to Children's Hospitals and St. Jude's, visiting cancer patients and terminally ill children. The immediate sense of dread, sympathy and sadness had washed over him every single time, never once wishing what any child he had come into contact with had on anyone. He saw the emptiness in their eyes; the loss of control over their bodies driving them to withdrawal from the world. He saw the sadness of the families; the stress that had aged them almost immediately, along with the children themselves, who looked to be years older than their real age. He cried when he went home or to the hotel; he cried for that child and the loss of their childhood; for their parents and the loss of the light in their child's eyes. He cried for himself, because he knew there really wasn't much he could do except continue to visit, to make at least their day.
The worst mistake (yet the best decision he had ever made) was to visit a little girl who had literally dying right before his eyes on a whim while at the hospital. Her mother, only a few years older than himself, sat vigil next to her little girl. Her father, a soldier serving overseas, was on his way home as quick as he could to see his little girl one last time. She had been fading in and out of consciousness, her mother holding her hand and humming to her, singing a sweet melody that immediately connected with JC's memory.
He stopped in the doorway, unable to tear his eyes away from the sad picture as the mother quietly cried, still humming despite her tears as the monitors above her head beeped just loud enough to drive anyone crazy.
He didn't know what brought him to do it, but slowly, ever so slowly, he brought his hand up, making a fist and gently knocking, startling the mother. "I'm sorry," he whispered, looking frantically from the mother to the little girl, "I heard you humming, I know the song -"
She nodded, never releasing her daughter's hand as she placed her temple at the little girl's fingers, looking at him. "It was Abby's favorite song. I used to sing it to her when she was a baby."
"It was my favorite song for a long time, too," he said softly, he stepping in and immediately got a sense of the end. This little girl had little time and everyone on the floor knew it. "How old is she?"
"Six. Just turned six this month."
His heart fell to the floor and shattered. "Six," he breathed out, taking in the delicate features of the little girl who, at one time, had a head full of dark brown hair and emerald green eyes just like her mother's. "How long has she, I mean -"
"One year," her mother said sadly, turning her head and watching her daughter lovingly as she swiped away a tear, "she nearly went into remission but they found another spot."
He wasn't sure what to do, sitting down next to her and placing a hand on her forearm, she not once moving away from his touch as she began to him again, he this time quietly singing along with her hums.
In all of creation, all things great and small
You are the one that surpasses them all
More precious than any diamond or pearl
They broke the mold when you came in this world
And I'm trying hard to figure out
Just how I ever did without
The warmth of your smile, the heart of a child
That's deep inside
It keeps me purified ...
He sat in the room with the little girl and her mother for another two hours; long after the other guys had gone. Mid-way through, her father had arrived, still wearing his uniform. His bag dropped at the door as JC moved to let him be near his little girl, he placing a gentle kiss to her forehead and then embracing her mother, who immediately began to break down.
He later learned that the little girl died in the middle of the night with both parents at her side.
He didn't know why then, but he had felt a connection with the little soul that lie on that bed. Now, after eight years, he knew. That little girl was fighting a courageous battle with Acute Myeloid Leukemia. The very same disease he was now battling. In his pessimistic mind, it was as if God had given him a glimpse into his (older) future and it petrified him.
He looked around his room, suddenly antsy and running his nails up and down his arms as a cold sweat began to break along his temples. He was scared, petrified. He didn't want to do this; he didn't want to die. His mind began to race, body begin to tremor, and suddenly, a sob escaped his throat, it pained and angry, he pulling his shaking hands to his face as his door swung open, immediately pulled against his mother's warm embrace as she rocked back and forth, trying her best to soothe him as he cried.
"I don't want to die. Please, don't let me die ..."
