“You have cancer.” Never in a thousand years would Joey or any of the guys have expected to hear such a statement. They had always assumed cancer happened to other people—but after Dr. Coleman’s little verdict, the word took on a much starker, more terrifying meaning.

After Dr. Coleman left them, JC paced the room for a long time, ranting about how he couldn’t believe this, how there was no way in the world Joey could have cancer, and how these people had to be wrong. The rest of the group sat in grave silence. A few tears slipped down Lance’s face, though he never bothered to brush them away. Justin stared hopelessly at the floor, and Chris continued to cradle his head in his hands.

Joey sat stock-still in his bed, looking at the wall ahead of him without really seeing it. He was at a loss of what to say, what to think, or even what to feel. It was as if multiple forces were pulling his heart in varying directions.

He wanted to throw something. He wanted someone to throw something at. He wanted to scream. He wanted to pack up and go home right now and just forget the whole mess. He wanted to hide under the sheets like a little kid and bawl his eyes out. 

Amid his whirlpool of thoughts, the one notion that stood out, pure and clear, was simply, Why?

Why was this happening to him? Why had his body decided to rebel against him like this? Why did it have to be cancer, of all things?

Why me?

Despite Dr. Coleman’s assurance that cancer sometimes struck even the healthiest, most vigorous people, Joey still felt a pang of self-reproach. Something, somewhere deep inside of him, kept insisting that he should have taken better care of himself—that he should have eaten better, or taken some special vitamins, or exercised more often, or gotten more rest. Now Joey wished more than anything that he had never gone for that stupid health check to begin with, even though another part of him knew that if he had gone on with his life as usual, it would have been only a matter of time before the cancer made its ugly presence fully known.

What was he to do, now? What were they all to do?

There was the chemotherapy, of course, and they lived in an age when diseases that used to be authorized death sentences could be vanquished.

But what if the chemo didn’t work? What if Joey wasn’t so lucky? Dr. Coleman had said that he and his cancer were currently at a gridlock; the odds were as good for one as for the other. Which of them would be the ultimate victor?

And what if the chemo did work? Would it be truly worth going through that stuff just to save his life? Surely the doctors wouldn’t recommend it if they didn’t think it could help, but Joey had read and heard enough to understand his treatment would hardly be a friend to him, either. Even if he did make it through in one piece, this would still be hanging over his head in the coming years. It would be a long, long time before things could start to return to normal, if they would ever be normal again.

Either way he looked at this, there would be a dear price to pay.

No one knew how they made it through the rest of that day. No one said much, including JC after he had blown off steam, and no one felt like doing much of anything. They turned on the TV, though no program could hold their interest. They attempted a few card games, but no one could concentrate. When food was brought to them, they just picked at it. When a star-studded sky appeared outside the window, while it was technically Justin’s turn to spend the night, none of the guys could bring himself to leave, so Joey ended up with four roommates. Not that he minded; right now, these men were all that held his sanity together.

No one got much sleep, if any. Every time Joey coughed or shifted his position, the others got squirrelly. They kept asking him if he was okay, and they jumped at the chance to fetch him something as simple as a drink of water. At an earlier time, Joey would have resented their fussing over him, but now he found it touching. He pictured himself in their shoes and knew he would have been every bit as eager to do anything at all useful.

The next day, Joey was taken directly to the oncology floor. His personal oncologist was Dr. Chase Delaney, a small but spry man with wavy black hair, cheery black eyes, and gold-brown skin that most people would kill to have. He was almost always wearing a smile, and he talked about his business as if it were the most ordinary business in the world. In spite of the circumstances, Joey found himself liking Dr. Delaney almost from their first few seconds together, and Joey’s mates figured if the man wasn’t a doctor, he would fare quite well in the movie or music industry.

As the rest of Joey’s medical entourage had done, Dr. Delaney never kept anything hidden from Joey, but he didn’t treat him like a little kid, or a hopeless case. When it came to the chemo matter, Joey honestly could not refrain from asking, “Will it hurt?” 

“No,” said Dr. Delaney with an amiable pat on the shoulder. “I have never once known chemo to cause any physical pain in the least degree.”

Joey sighed. At least that was one worry off his mind.

Dr. Delaney continued, “However, you may experience a strange cool feeling as it goes through your veins, because the temperature of the fluid will be lower than that of your blood. There will be other side effects, too, such as fatigue, loss of appetite, vomiting, greater exposure to infection, and hair loss.”

“Hair loss?” Chris repeated, sounding as frightened as if it were about to happen to him.

“It’s the chemo’s duty to destroy or impede the growth of fast-growing cells. Cancer is comprised of fast-growing cells, which is the good news. The bad news is that other rapid cells, such as the ones that make up hair follicles, are affected as well. That’s why so many cancer victims shed their hair—and not just the hair on their heads, either.”

If the idea of puking his guts out didn’t intimidate Joey, the idea of losing every strand of hair certainly did. Most of the time, he didn’t pay too much attention to his hair—not as much as the other guys paid to theirs—but envisioning himself with a completely bald head and body sent snakelike chills down his spine.

As if to try to lighten the subject, Dr. Delaney said, “Side effects can always be treated or reduced if need be. And I promise you, when all this is over and done, your hair will make a complete comeback in no time.”

This was one of those times when Joey was thankful to be a guy; the absence of hair wouldn’t be as conspicuous with him, especially if he wore hats and bandannas. All the same, he still dreaded taking on the semblance of a ripe honeydew melon. He ran his hands gently over his beard and mustache and decided he might as well shave everything off now before the chemo took it later.

“Are you sure this is all really necessary?” JC asked. Despite his efforts to stay calm, there was no mistaking the strain in his voice, nor the blaze in his bright blue eyes.

“When you’re facing a tough enemy,” Dr. Delaney told JC, “you have to be even tougher. Cancer is strong and merciless, so the chemo must be strong and merciless, too.”

“Oh, boy,” Joey said, half to himself.

Dr. Delaney went on to explain how the chemo would be administered, and how much Joey would receive at a time. “We may prescribe one or more drugs, depending on the type and stage of the cancer. You’ll stick around this place a while longer, just until we’ve worked out all the kinks, and we’ll keep an eye out for any setbacks.”

“Do you expect setbacks?” Justin asked.

“There’s always that possibility, of course. It’s different for every patient. Even if nothing happens, it never hurts to play it safe, right?”

“Guess not,” Lance murmured with his eyes focused on the floor.

To Joey, Dr. Delaney said, “After we send you home, you can resume a life like that of everyone else. Between your scheduled visits, make sure you maintain a wholesome diet; we recommend staying away from anything rich, spicy, or high in fat. Drink plenty of fluids, especially water. Do a bit of exercise whenever you can, but also allow yourself plenty of rest. While you don’t have to stay totally isolated from other people, you’ll definitely want to keep a safe distance from those who show signs of a cold or the flu. You’ll also want to be extra careful around sharp objects, because your blood won’t clot very well if you get a cut. And if you ever have a problem, physical or psychological, let us know.”

From this little speech, all Joey could think about was the phrase at the beginning: “You can resume a life like that of everyone else.”

Joey didn’t say it, but in his head, he was virtually shouting, “A normal life? Yeah, as if!”

“I sure hope this does the trick,” Justin said.

“We can never make any guarantees,” said Dr. Delaney, “but we will do our best and hope for the best. A little optimism goes a long way, you know.”

“It’s all just so…overwhelming,” said Chris, his eyes moist, his voice cracking. “I don’t see how we can get through this.”

The oncologist clasped Chris’s shoulder gently. “You’ll get through this the same way everybody else does, sir—one day at a time.”