4. Ethan
Ethan
Istill hadn’t worked out how a nosebleed had ended up caking my hair in blood. I’d had to shower twice to get it all out. But after checking myself over, I’d had to accept that that’s all it was.
Either that, or something else had happened and I’d hallucinated the nosebleed. There was an odd…feeling surrounding the memory. Like there was something important I was forgetting. That I needed to remember.
I pushed it to the back of my mind. Chemo fucked with your body in so many ways that I’d long since stopped trying to figure out what was wrong. It was either the chemo or the cancer. And if it actually was being caused by something else, it didn’t really matter.
I was dead either way.
The next few days dragged on as they always did post treatment.
With the steroids working their magic, I always felt fairly normal.
But it never lasted. Once I stopped taking them, the side effects would sweep in.
I could never enjoy the brief, peaceful lull, not knowing the hellscape that was waiting just around the corner.
But this time, it never came.
Every morning after I finished the steroids, I woke up and waited for the nausea. The headaches. The exhaustion. The pain.
But there was…nothing.
Instead, I felt oddly okay. Fine. Better than fine, even. I had more energy than I’d had in years. My appetite had returned with a vengeance. My muscles didn’t protest with every movement. My head didn’t spin if I stood up too fast.
I felt…healthy.
If anything, this caused more anxiety. There was no relief in my lack of symptoms. I’d read about this phenomenon in people who were close to death.
They suddenly had a surge of energy, making their loved ones believe the end wasn’t as close as they’d thought.
Really, it was just a final hurrah before death swept in.
A chance for you to enjoy life one last time, before meeting your eternal end.
Which would explain why I didn’t use any of my newfound energy. No, I spent my days in bed, fucking terrified to move, unable to think about anything other than my impending end.
What if the cancer’s spread faster than they thought?
What if your body can’t cope with the chemo?
What if you don’t have months?
What if it’s weeks?
What if it’s days?
It was stupid. If I did only have days left, was this really how I wanted to be spending them? Alone in bed? With the lights off and the curtains closed?
No. It wasn’t.
But I couldn’t bring myself to get up.
It was like my symptoms had been replaced with this crushing, desolate melancholy. A feeling that I wasn’t where I was meant to be.
Maybe that was what happened when you got closer to death. Like women towards the end of pregnancy, when it’d make them so uncomfortable that they’d start to long for labour instead of fearing it. Perhaps this was nature’s way of helping you accept what was coming.
If that was what it was, I didn’t think it was working. I didn’t feel ready.
I didn’t think I ever would.
Dave didn’t think my behaviour was odd. This was how I always spent my days the week following chemo.
Not that he would’ve noticed anyway. He was out of the house just after dawn, dressed in gym clothes with his work ones in a bag over his shoulder.
He’d kiss my cheek and wish me a good day before vanishing.
The seething jealousy and resentment was building to almost uncontrollable levels. It was alright for him. He knew he’d have a good day. He got to go the gym. To work. For beers afterwards. He could even drive himself.
None of those were things I could do anymore. I shouldn’t have begrudged him doing them either. He wasn’t the one with cancer.
I just fucking wished he wouldn’t give me that breezy farewell. How could I hope to have a good day when I couldn’t even bring myself to get out of bed?
Sometimes, I suspected Dave forgot how different my world was now. How small it’d become. Sure, we’d both given up our lives in California to come back here, but he was able to socialise. To work. To live.
The best I could hope for was to exist.
As the weeks crept by, the side effects still didn’t appear. I debated calling the unit, but really, what was I going to say?
Hi, just checking in because I feel great! Is this normal?
Not the craziest thing they would’ve been asked, but I felt too silly to do it. Wasn’t like my cancer could’ve mysteriously cured itself. It was more likely that I was having some sort of rally before entering the final stages.
If that was the case, I’d rather not know until absolutely necessary.
Before I knew it, the week before chemo rolled around.
I felt so well that I caught the bus rather than getting a taxi as usual.
When the red vehicle pulled into view, I blinked slowly for a few seconds.
There it was again—the odd scratching in my brain, like I was missing something vitally important.
So fucking weird.
The one bright spot about my appointment was that it was with Lily, the same nurse from the chemo ward. Listening to her gossip and chat as we went through the motions made everything feel a little…lighter.
My check-up passed normally right up until the moment Lily weighed me. “Well, that’s good.”
“What is?” I asked. I couldn’t look at the numbers on the scale.
The first appointment I’d had with her, I’d broken down on seeing how much I’d lost in a short space of time.
After that, I always stepped inside this room to find the scales turned the other way, a little Post-it note obscuring the number.
“You’ve gained a few pounds.” Lily smiled brightly. “Whatever you’ve been doing, keep at it.”
“Must be all the milkshakes.” My one treat these days was a vanilla milkshake with Oreo pieces from Five Guys. Thank fuck for Deliveroo. “I’ve had one every day for the last week.”
“Good.” She nodded firmly. “You’ve got to find the joy where you can, Ethan. If it’s in milkshakes, then you drink all the milkshakes you want.”
Tears sprang up unexpectedly as I returned to my seat. “Thanks, Lily.”
“It’s not easy, what you’re going through,” she said bluntly as she strapped the blood pressure cuff around my arm. “Especially when you’re alone.”
“I’m not alone,” I protested half-heartedly. “Dave’s there.”
She didn’t meet my gaze, watching the numbers tick up on the monitor. “Is he?”
I was sure she asked me then because you’re not supposed to talk while having your blood pressure taken. I waited until she’d nodded approvingly at my stats before responding. “He is. Maybe not all the time, but when it counts.”
“I’m sorry.” She sighed. “It’s not my place to comment. But you bring out my mother hen instincts.”
I reached over to pat her hand. “As someone without a mother, you’ll never hear me complaining about that.”
She sniffed, turning her head away as she busied herself getting the equipment together for the necessary blood tests.
I bit my lip. I didn’t like that I’d made her sad. That hadn’t been my intention. As it didn’t seem appropriate to hug her, I took a diversion onto Dark Humour Street. “No use me putting in a complaint, anyway. Knowing the bureaucracy in the NHS, I’ll be dead before it’s dealt with.”
She paused before her face creased in laughter. “I’d like to disagree with you, but god, the red tape is insane. Besides, you’ll probably outlive us all. The sarcastic ones always do.”
I smiled sadly as I extended my arm, pretending not to notice how her breath hitched at the lie she’d told.
At the future that would never be mine. Her job must be hard.
Not everyone who passed through her office had a diagnosis as severe as mine, but I had to imagine she’d seen more death than most.
I didn’t call her out on it. Just continued to smile, letting her know everything was okay.
Even if it wasn’t.
This couldn’t be happening.
There was no way.
I was sat opposite the specialist, the familiar disinfectant smell filling my nostrils while the bright overhead lights flickered.
My ears were ringing from the information I’d just received.
I stared at my ridiculously handsome oncologist, certain I had to be hallucinating. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”
Dr. Hall laced his fingers together, expression inscrutable. “Your PET scan shows no evidence of cancer.”
No evidence of cancer.
It wasn’t possible.
When I’d had the call from the hospital the day after my blood tests, I’d believed my worst fears were being confirmed. All they’d said was that there’d been some abnormalities in my blood work, and that Dr. Hall had ordered further tests. It was a terrifying repeat of my first diagnosis.
But this time, I was completely alone. Dave had been too busy to accompany me.
As usual.
All of the tests had led up to this moment. Me, sat opposite the specialist, being told something that should be impossible.
“We don’t understand how this is possible,” Dr. Hall said, echoing my own thoughts, his hands clasped over his chest. Like always, I was struck by his youth.
The man looked barely a day over thirty.
He had to be older though, given his seniority and experience.
“Your previous tests show that, while the chemo was slowing the spread, it wasn’t stopping it. ”
“I don’t understand,” I said numbly. The news wasn’t sinking in. “Are you messing with me?”
“No.” Dr. Hall got up from his seat and turned the computer screen towards me. “Here, see for yourself.”
My jaw dropped in shock as my mind reeled. PET scans showed areas of infection and cancer as bright spots of colour. The last one I’d seen had been covered in red.
But the one Dr. Hall was showing me now?
There wasn’t a single spot of colour.
“You must have my results confused with someone else’s,” I said numbly. “This can’t be right.”
“I thought the same at first.” Dr. Hall sat back down, his solemn brown eyes meeting mine across the desk. “But your blood panel and CT scan confirmed the same findings. Somehow, you’re cancer-free.”
“Fuck.” I shoved my hands into my hair, pushing it back from my face momentarily. “Sorry, but, just…what the fuck?”
I met his eyes again to find they were slightly narrowed. Questioning almost. “Believe me, it’s what we’ve all been asking too. The department has asked that you undergo some testing for research purposes.”
My soul recoiled at the thought of being poked and prodded further. Don’t be selfish. What if whatever’s happened can help others?
“But I’d advise against that,” Dr. Hall said, making me sag in relief. “For the time being at least. I’d like to see you again in a month for blood work, but aside from that, I suggest you spend the next few weeks coming to terms with things.”
Honestly, I couldn’t keep up with this. Any of it. It just didn’t make sense. I was dreaming. I had to be. “With what?”
Dr. Hall smiled. “Your new life.”
Several hours later, I was still in disbelief. I’d pinched my hand so many times that a small bruise had formed there. Even that disappeared faster than normal. I swear it did.
What the fuck was going on?
Dave’s key in the door signalled his arrival home. I didn’t move or even react. Not when he called out my name, nor when he stepped into the living room. I just stayed on the sofa, staring into space.
“Eth? Why are you sitting in the dark?”
I blinked at the bright light that assaulted my eyes when he flipped the switch. “Didn’t realise.”
The sofa cushion sank as Dave sat beside me. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
Suddenly, irritation decided to join the confusion and uncertainty party. Had Dave really forgotten I had my appointment today? One I’d been so terrified about, I hadn’t slept the night before?
Given he hadn’t even made it home from the club until 4 a.m., he probably didn’t realise.
“I had my appointment with Dr. Hall today,” I said. “About my test results.”
There was a long pause before Dave sighed. “Shit, that was today? Why didn’t you remind me?”
I gritted my teeth. I had reminded him. Several times, in fact. Along with asking him if he could take an hour off work to come with me.
He hadn’t been able to, of course.
Stop this, I told myself sternly. This is good news. He’s probably worried sick about what you’ve been told. You’re being selfish.
Proving my point, Dave took one of my hands between his own. I frowned. Maybe the bruise was still there under the skin, because this felt oddly uncomfortable. “What did he say?”
“It’s good news,” I said, an almost hysterical giggle slipping free. “Great, actually. Fuck.”
“What is it?”
That was the instant it hit me. Not fully, but the start of it. I was cancer-free. I wasn’t going to die. Not from that, at least. Not right now.
I faced Dave fully. I wanted to see his face as I told him. For his expression to erase the memory in my mind—the one of his horror and grief at my diagnosis. “The tests…they didn’t show any evidence of cancer.”
Dave paled. “What?”
I chuckled wryly, shaking my head. “I know. I can’t wrap my head around it either. Tried to insist they had the wrong person’s results or had read the scans wrong. But they hadn’t. All of the tests show I’m cancer-free.”
His complexion was now slightly green. I got it. This was a huge shock.
“I don’t understand. It’s not possible.”
“I don’t understand it either,” I confessed. “It makes zero fucking sense.”
Dave’s throat bobbed. “So…ah, you’re not dying?”
“No.” I laughed at the surge of relief that raced through me. Because I wasn’t. I wasn’t dying. “I’m not. If anything, I’m healthier than I’ve been in years.”
Dave was still staring at me, but it was almost as though he was looking through me.
I squeezed his limp fingers. “Dave? I know it’s a lot to take in, but this is good news. I’m going to be okay!”
He jumped as though startled before smiling. “It’s fantastic news, Ethan. Fuck. Sorry. I just can’t believe it. Come here.”
Dave pulled me into a tight hug.
“I’m going to be okay,” I repeated in a daze. “I can’t believe it.”
He cleared his throat as he rubbed my back. “Me neither.”