now and answer
any questions you might have – I won’t be administering your treatment.”
Chris nodded and I noticed his fingers fidgeting together from the corner of my
eye. “Have you had the process explained to you?”
“Yeah. Cannula in the back of my hand, will likely take
hours, could feel really sick…”
“Do you have any questions about the side-effects? Anything
particular that’s worrying you?”
“No, I’m good. Just want to get it over with.”
“That’s normal. Is that your way of telling me to be on my
merry way?” she asked with a teasing smile.
“No. Sorry, I just…”
“Don’t worry, Chris. It’s okay to be feeling nervous. I’ll
leave you for now and tell the doctor you’re ready to begin. I’ll be around all
morning if you need anything. And I mean anything .
I’m here to help you whenever you need it.”
“Thanks,” Chris muttered nervously, tapping his foot
impatiently. Paula smiled, patted Chris’ shoulder and made her way across the
room to talk to another patient.
“You scared?” I asked. He
must be , I thought. He must’ve been because I was fucking terrified.
“Not so much,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders. “Not
for me anyway. Fuck, this would be so
much easier to deal with if I didn’t have to leave Emmie behind. I hate that
I’m putting her through this. When is the poor kid gonna get a fucking break?”
Whether it was his intention or not, that remark ignited a
fire of guilt in my stomach. She’s already been through so much… because of me.
“It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose,” was all I could
think to say. Again, he shrugged, and before I could reply we were interrupted
by one of the nurses dressed in salmon-pink scrubs.
“Okay, Christopher…”
“Chris.”
“Well, Chris. I’m just going to pop this cannula in the back
of your hand and then I’ll set up your drip.”
“Sure,” Chris answered on a heavy exhale.
“I’m Anna by the way,” she added, setting a yellow tray down
on the table next to Chris. “Lift your arm for me,” she said, and then wrapped
an adjustable elastic band around the top of Chris’ arm. My thoughts wandered
involuntarily to the amount of times I’d done that same move on myself, but I
quickly dismissed them.
She went on to sanitize her hands with the gel clipped to
her pocket, then she stretched on some gloves with a snap and picked up a
little white packet. After tearing it open and removing the small cleansing
wipe she brushed it over the top of Chris’ hand and then placed it back in the
tray.
“Make a fist for me,” she asked while feeling for a
prominent vein. “Got it. You can relax your hand now.” It took her less than a
minute to remove the needle and cannula from the sterile packet and secure it
in place on Chris’ hand with some white tape. It took a little longer for her
to set up the drip, and to keep my eyes away from the pain in Chris’ I watched
her intently as she fiddled with the bag on the drip stand and adjusted the
little dial that controlled the flow.
“Ok, that’s it,” Anna announced after tapping a couple of
buttons on the portable space-age unit. “If you need anything press this
button.” She pointed to a remote control attached to the wall behind us. “There
is a café downstairs if either of you would like something to eat or drink,
although I would recommend something light for you, Chris, until you know how
your body reacts to the chemo. Are you driving home?” She directed the question
at me.
“Um, no. He drove us here.”
“Well I doubt you’ll be in a fit state to drive home again.”
She was speaking to Chris again now. “We don’t know how you’re going to react
and the first session especially can be pretty traumatic on your body.”
“We’ll call a cab,” I suggested.
“Great,” she replied, appeased with my answer. “Remember I’m
around if you need anything or have any concerns.”
“Thank you,” Chris and I
any questions you might have – I won’t be administering your treatment.”
Chris nodded and I noticed his fingers fidgeting together from the corner of my
eye. “Have you had the process explained to you?”
“Yeah. Cannula in the back of my hand, will likely take
hours, could feel really sick…”
“Do you have any questions about the side-effects? Anything
particular that’s worrying you?”
“No, I’m good. Just want to get it over with.”
“That’s normal. Is that your way of telling me to be on my
merry way?” she asked with a teasing smile.
“No. Sorry, I just…”
“Don’t worry, Chris. It’s okay to be feeling nervous. I’ll
leave you for now and tell the doctor you’re ready to begin. I’ll be around all
morning if you need anything. And I mean anything .
I’m here to help you whenever you need it.”
“Thanks,” Chris muttered nervously, tapping his foot
impatiently. Paula smiled, patted Chris’ shoulder and made her way across the
room to talk to another patient.
“You scared?” I asked. He
must be , I thought. He must’ve been because I was fucking terrified.
“Not so much,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders. “Not
for me anyway. Fuck, this would be so
much easier to deal with if I didn’t have to leave Emmie behind. I hate that
I’m putting her through this. When is the poor kid gonna get a fucking break?”
Whether it was his intention or not, that remark ignited a
fire of guilt in my stomach. She’s already been through so much… because of me.
“It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose,” was all I could
think to say. Again, he shrugged, and before I could reply we were interrupted
by one of the nurses dressed in salmon-pink scrubs.
“Okay, Christopher…”
“Chris.”
“Well, Chris. I’m just going to pop this cannula in the back
of your hand and then I’ll set up your drip.”
“Sure,” Chris answered on a heavy exhale.
“I’m Anna by the way,” she added, setting a yellow tray down
on the table next to Chris. “Lift your arm for me,” she said, and then wrapped
an adjustable elastic band around the top of Chris’ arm. My thoughts wandered
involuntarily to the amount of times I’d done that same move on myself, but I
quickly dismissed them.
She went on to sanitize her hands with the gel clipped to
her pocket, then she stretched on some gloves with a snap and picked up a
little white packet. After tearing it open and removing the small cleansing
wipe she brushed it over the top of Chris’ hand and then placed it back in the
tray.
“Make a fist for me,” she asked while feeling for a
prominent vein. “Got it. You can relax your hand now.” It took her less than a
minute to remove the needle and cannula from the sterile packet and secure it
in place on Chris’ hand with some white tape. It took a little longer for her
to set up the drip, and to keep my eyes away from the pain in Chris’ I watched
her intently as she fiddled with the bag on the drip stand and adjusted the
little dial that controlled the flow.
“Ok, that’s it,” Anna announced after tapping a couple of
buttons on the portable space-age unit. “If you need anything press this
button.” She pointed to a remote control attached to the wall behind us. “There
is a café downstairs if either of you would like something to eat or drink,
although I would recommend something light for you, Chris, until you know how
your body reacts to the chemo. Are you driving home?” She directed the question
at me.
“Um, no. He drove us here.”
“Well I doubt you’ll be in a fit state to drive home again.”
She was speaking to Chris again now. “We don’t know how you’re going to react
and the first session especially can be pretty traumatic on your body.”
“We’ll call a cab,” I suggested.
“Great,” she replied, appeased with my answer. “Remember I’m
around if you need anything or have any concerns.”
“Thank you,” Chris and I
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