Chapter 13
JC didn’t realize how much he relied on vocal communication until that was taken away. His throat hurt tremendously, so he couldn’t talk even if he was allowed to. Hand gestures yielded mixed results and he didn’t have the energy to write for an extended period. I have no idea how I’m going to manage at home. I’d rather be alone but I know Dr. Franklin wants someone taking care of me for at least a day after I get out of here. And Mom will smother me. God love her, but I see that coming.
He was released late the next morning. Heather and Tyler left as they had jobs; they promised to return as soon as possible. Roy and Karen would stay until Wednesday. She had mentioned finding a temporary residence in California while JC was in treatment. Roy was reluctant; he wasn’t sure they’d be able to find a place. I can’t keep leaving my son while he’s going through this, she had said. JC hated how he was causing his parents so much stress and no amount of reassurance could shake that guilt.
Once back home, he retreated to his room. He needed sleep; hospital beds weren’t the most comfortable apparatuses to sleep on. Plus he’d been surrounded by people since waking up from surgery. He needed to process what was happening alone. However, exhaustion overtook him the second his head hit the pillow.
Throat muscles throbbed in claustrophobic closeness when he awoke a few hours later. The feeling was similar to when he walked through the door after diagnosis. Fatigue still flowed through his system, as if he hadn’t slept a wink. Remind me why I agreed to do this. I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.
He turned over. The bedside table had his phone, a notepad and pen, and a full glass of ice water. Mom must have arranged that for me. I wonder how many times she’s been up here. It wouldn’t surprise him; she had barely left his bedside after the surgery. While he valued her company, it wasn’t conducive to self-reflection. He scooted up and reached for the water. The cool sensation relaxed his muscles temporarily.
Karen and Roy came in a few minutes later. “How are you feeling, honey?” She asked, sitting down next to him.
He frowned and pointed to his throat.
“It’s hurting you?”
You have no idea, Mom. JC nodded.
“Say something, Joshua.” She pleaded.
“You know he’s not allowed to, honey,” Roy said calmly. “His incision has to heal.”
TO HELL WITH THAT!” Karen replied. “I JUST WANT MY SON TO TALK TO ME!” She then started to cry.
JC immediately wrapped his mom in a hug. He wanted to talk to her just as much as she did him, but didn’t know how. Once again, guilt overwhelmed him. He was the reason she was crying and he couldn’t stomach that. If every day was like today, he wasn’t sure how he could make it through this war.
A few minutes later, she calmed down. “I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay,” he lipped and kissed her check.
After Karen had gone to bed, he decided to write her a note. Then he could voice all his frustration that he hadn’t been able to convey in gestures and facial expressions. He was worn out from the culmination of events, but he wanted her to known these things before she went back to Maryland.
Mom,
I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the stress you’re going through because of me. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I’m just as frustrated as you are. I’ve wanted to tell you how treatment isn’t merely theoretical anymore because of the surgery. That my life will never be the same again. That I hurt so much that I wonder if starting this journey is worth it. Please be patient with me. More days like this lie ahead of us. But maybe if we weather this storm, brighter days will lie ahead. I need your support. Hang in there with me, please. I love you.
-Josh
His mother apologized profusely again the next morning. “No harm done,” JC had responded, his first words since the surgery. They hugged for a solid minute after. He exchanged “I love yous” with both Roy and Karen at his front door. As he watched them drive away, a sense of relief came over him. While he loved his family, he needed some peace and quiet to process what had happened.
What was next? The surgery had gone according to plan, but would that affect the treatment schedule? Or did Dr. Franklin already have a set plan, regardless of results? He was glad to have the surgery over with, because it that meant the cancer was being treated. Speculation now took a backseat to proactive measures. That comforted him in a way. Still, he wasn’t without nerves. He hadn’t researched chemotherapy and didn’t know what to expect.
Research took up the next few days. Two options were available: medication by mouth or via an IV tube. JC hoped it would be the former; he hated needles with a passion. He didn’t like the idea of a metal object in his body nor the accompanying pain. Still, he’d follow Dr. Franklin’s orders if that was what’s best for his treatment.
Friends came and went through the week. Matt brought JC food several times since he didn’t cook. Joey came by for laughs and companionship. Even Eric showed up for a few minutes and feigned concern. JC knew the relationship was at a turning point; he needed to prepare for the impending explosion.
JC swung his legs nervously on the patient table during his final appointment before chemo began. He hated waiting for the doctor alone. Even though he knew Dr. Franklin, the anticipation of seeing a physician always made him nauseous. The sterile treatment room didn’t help matters.
Dr. Franklin entered the room with a smile. “How are you today?”
“Eh, hanging in there. Man, I hated the first 48 hours after surgery. You don’t realize how much you use your voice until you aren’t allowed to use it.”
Gavin nodded. “Patients tell me that a lot. I don’t know how they do it; I’d go insane.”
“You manage a way.” He paused. “What’s the plan of action?”
“I’ll put you on high grade medication via IV that you’ll receive once a week. If you’re not responding to treatment and the cancer gets worse, we’ll have to reevaluate.”
“Do you think I will?”
“I’m certainly hopeful, but it’s not a guarantee. Your medical history favors recovery. However, life doesn’t happen on paper. We can predict, but we don’t know if it’ll go that direction.”
JC sighed. “Yeah. I’m ready to start doing something about it. It’s maddening enough worrying and waiting for treatment to start.”
Gavin nodded sympathetically. “I understand. So, let’s talk logistics. Do you have any questions or concerns for me?”
“I’m concerned about privacy and don’t want to be bothered while I’m in treatment. I have enough to worry about as it is.”
Dr. Franklin nodded. “Don’t worry; I can arrange a private room while the drugs are administered. It’s easy to do, but costs more.”
The patient waved his hand. “I’ll pay it. It’s worth it to me.”
“And if any press should call asking for information, we won’t give them any. As with any patient, you have control over who you share your information with.”
“Thank you. I’m not ready to talk about this publicly yet.”
“I understand. I can imagine trying to deal with something like this while the world watching. Still, I’ll try my damn hardest to give you the best care and in a relaxing atmosphere.”
JC smiled lightly. Dr. Franklin had gone above and beyond already; he was in good hands. “Thank you, Gavin. I’m glad you’re my doctor. You’ve made me feel comfortable with this process.”
“That’s what I’m here for. I’ll stop by tomorrow while you’re receiving the drugs to check on you.”
The next morning he entered the hospital. After checking in, one of the nurses led him to a private treatment room. A red recliner like chair with a metal table of medical tools awaited him. No turning back now. He gingerly sat down.
“I’ll cover the window so no one will know you are here,” she said.
JC nodded. “Thank you.”
Wendy arrived a few minutes later with a bag on a cart. “Hey. What are you doing here?” He asked.
“I work for Dr. Franklin and he assigns me to different patients of his. So, he assigned me to you and two others.”
JC relaxed. “Oh, good. So are you drugging me up today?”
“Yep. I’ll administer your treatment through IV. We’ll have to use your arm because the veins are stronger than in your hand.”
The patient shuddered inwardly.
“I know you don’t like these. I’ll aim for as painless as possible.”
“Yeah. I’ll see a lot of them the next few months, so I better get used to it.”
Wendy asked him to lay out his right arm. He did and she tied elastic tape above the elbow. Then, she exposed the needle. “Doing okay?”
He nodded.
She pierced his skin and he groaned. “This will have to stay for about an hour while your body intakes the medicine.”
He sighed. “I hate these things. They feel like a metal weapon is invading your body and taking blood from you.”
Wendy smiled knowingly. “I agree with that observation. I’ve had patients get used to them. One little boy was deathly afraid at first. I couldn’t even place them on this table without him crying. He had leukemia so I had to stick him anyway. It took a while but by the end, he didn’t flinch.”
“Is he better now?”
“Cancer free for over a year. Patients amaze me with their resiliency. I don’t know what I would do if I were put in that situation.” She stuck the needle in his arm.
JC flinched. “I have to try, if not for myself, then certainly for my loved ones. I can’t stand the thought of leaving them behind and mourning my absence.”
Wendy nodded. “That’s the first step in recovery: finding reasons. Ultimately, you’ll have to do this for yourself. No one can fight this for you. Yes, they can help you all they want. But it’s up to you how to proceed.”
It is up to me. And that puts a burden on my shoulders like you wouldn’t believe. “That’s a daunting thought.”
She taped his IV to his arm. “Take it one day at a time. I’ve seen patients many times over get overwhelmed by the magnitude and can’t focus on anything else. If you survive one day, you’ll get to the next day. And if you survive that day, you’ll go on and so forth. Sometimes the hardest battle is living through one day. But then you’ll be so grateful you did.”
JC glanced at the medicine bag hanging from the cart. “Yeah, like all I want to do right now is get this treatment over with.”
“That’s how to look at it. Can I get you anything else while you receive treatment, sweetie?”
“Nah, I’m think I’m good.”
In the shower that night, he noticed a larger than usual clump of hair fell out from the wash. He gasped. You’ve got to be kidding me. It can’t start already. The treatment was this morning. Wait. If I’m this shocked at the first loss, how could I handle the next few months? I don’t know. He continued washing.
More hair came off as he dried off a few minutes later. What is this? JC glanced at his naked reflection. The hair line had receded ever so slightly. He approached the mirror and ran his fingers through his hair again. It felt limper and more fragile than the last shower. How could have one treatment done so much damage to his body in efforts to eradicate one tiny tumor? He noticed several black wisps remained on his hands. He sighed. The decaying process had already begun. Maybe I should just shave it off. The closest thing he’d ever had to a shaved head was a Caesar cut in NSYNC’s European days. At least then he had hair. This meant only flesh would be visible. He closed his eyes, trying to picture himself bald and couldn’t. He’d hate watching his hair disappear until it no longer existed. It might be indicative of his future. However, staring at a hairless reflection would be a constant reminder. You’re battling a horrible disease that isn’t natural. Things have to change for a while. Cancer isn’t pretty. It’s gritty, raw and real.
What will Devon think? Devon was JC’s hairstylist. They liked one another but didn’t hang out besides when JC came into his shop. He knew his client had cancer and was quite sympathetic; they’d spoken on the phone recently. JC knew Devon would schedule him quickly if he decided to shave his head. Still, it wouldn’t feel right if he went alone. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, losing his hair would be a blow to his confidence. The short brown hair had been his signature look for a number of years. Now he had to accept his new reality as a cancer patient and that would be just another step in that process. He needed a close friend to go with him. Maybe that was weak to say so, but he couldn’t face this ordeal alone. Deciding who, on the other hand, was another story. It had to be someone he trusted.
Are you sure this is the right thing to do? He stared at his reflection once more. Not much had changed in ten years other a few age lines. Was he ready for such a drastic alteration? The alternative was unnerving at worst. I guess I need to suck it up and do it. Neither option is appealing, but I have to choose one. He didn’t have much control these days, but he could choose a path regarding this. If he must lose his hair, it had to be in one instance.
Story Tags: postsync jc cancer tearjerker
