Chapter 16: Chemotherapy, Boys, and a Fainting Spell

The blaring sound of the alarm startled me awake, leaving me feeling dazed and confused. Without even thinking, I reached over and hit the snooze button, only to realize it was 6:30 AM. Letting out a sigh, I grumbled, “It’s too early,” as I forced myself out of bed. My stomach churned with the usual nausea, making the thought of breakfast unbearable. The idea of scrambled eggs now just made me feel sick, so I settled for a few crackers, hoping they would settle my upset stomach.

Operation Get Ready started with a visit to the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror showed me a stark reminder of my illness. Sunken cheeks, ghostly complexion, deep shadows under my eyes... I looked like a different person. My previously long ash blonde hair was now gone, leaving me with a bald head that felt exposed yet oddly freeing. “Why bother?” I pondered, pulling a cozy, charcoal gray beanie onto my head.

I didn’t find much comfort in my closet, but I ended up choosing some old black skinny jeans and a big gray sweater to cover up how skinny I looked. My trusty Converse shoes felt nice on my feet, and the silver hoops from my grandma were the perfect finishing touch.

A quick glance in the full-length mirror confirmed that I looked halfway decent, at least by my current standards. “Alright, Sloane,” I whispered, giving myself a pep talk. “It’s just another day… you can do this.”

That mantra lasted all of ten minutes. A sudden warmth gushed from my nose, and my heart pounded in my chest as I realized it was blood – a nosebleed. Panic surged through me, but I managed to cover the mess with my hand while my other fumbled for tissues. “Great,” I thought bitterly. “Just what I needed.”

The crimson flow finally slowed, leaving me weak and trembling. I dabbed at the last stubborn drops, my vision swimming. The bloody tissues were shoved forcefully into the trash, a small victory in a seemingly endless battle.

I emerged from the bathroom, the scent of antiseptic clinging to my clothes. Dad was already in the kitchen, his back to me as he expertly flipped pancakes. The aroma of butter and maple syrup did nothing to ease the queasiness in my stomach.

“Morning, Sloane,” he greeted, his voice gruff but not unkind. He didn’t turn around, but I could feel his eyes on me in the reflection of the toaster.

“Morning, Dad,” I mumbled back, sliding into my usual seat at the small kitchen table. Stetson was already there, his face buried in a comic book. He gave me a knowing glance and a subtle nod in the direction of Dad’s back, a silent message that said, “Be careful.”

I took a sip of the orange juice Dad had poured, the sweetness doing little to mask the metallic taste in my mouth. “I’m not hungry,” I managed, pushing the plate of pancakes away.

Dad finally turned around, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “You have to eat something, Sloane,” he said, his tone firm but gentle. “The doctor said it’s important.”

“I know, Dad,” I sighed, picking at the edge of a pancake. “I just... can’t right now.”

He studied me for a moment, his eyes softening. “Okay,” he relented. “But you’re having a protein shake before school. No.”

Stetson let out a snort from behind his comic book, which earned him a stern look from Dad. “Don’t start, Stetson,” he warned.

“Wouldn’t even think about it, sir,” Stetson replied, his voice oozing with sarcasm.

I couldn’t help but crack a small smile. My twin brother always knew how to lighten the mood, even when I felt like I was drowning in a sea of sickness and despair.

Dad cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “We need to talk about your grades, Sloane,” he began, his tone shifting back to his usual authoritative demeanor. “Your teachers have expressed concerns about your performance this semester.”

My stomach tightened. Here it comes, I thought, bracing myself for the lecture. But then Dad’s voice softened again, and he reached out to squeeze my hand. “I know you’re going through a tough time, honey,” he said. “But we need to figure out a plan to help you catch up.”

A wave of unexpected warmth washed over me. Maybe this day wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe, with the support of my dad and Stetson, I could find a way to navigate this storm and emerge stronger on the other side.

Mr. Kalyoncuoglu’s monotonous voice in US Government class faded into a low buzz. I couldn’t concentrate. The pain in Evan’s eyes from three days ago kept replaying in my head. Can *we* make it through *this*? Is it right to involve him in my complicated life? Whenever we crossed paths in the hallway, I could feel the growing distance between us like a tangible pain.

The weight of guilt was crushing, especially with the constant feeling of sickness and fear. I couldn’t let my guard down, always thinking, “What if things get even worse today?” My heart raced with the thought.

Chandler was his usual self. Maybe even a little more cheerful than usual - a cheerfulness that really got on my nerves. He might have promised to dial back his protectiveness, but I could still feel the underlying dislike for Evan. “Does he know something I don’t?” The thought sent a new wave of unease crashing over me.

My fingers twisted in my lap, a nervous habit Dad always scolded me for. My gaze drifted to the clock, each tick marking off another painful minute until I could escape this room, escape from everyone who might sense the storm raging inside me. A flicker of relief washed over me as I realized I wouldn’t run into Evan in our next class, but that relief was quickly replaced by a dull throb of disappointment.

The trek from my locker to the cafeteria felt like a gauntlet. My nerves were frayed, every casual glance seeming to scrutinize my every move. Just when I thought I might make it unscathed, Evan materialized in front of me.

My heart skipped a beat. “Evan...” I hesitated, struggling to find my words.

“Can we have a chat? Please?” His voice held a hint of desperation, a side of him I hadn’t seen before.

I quickly looked around, but Chandler was nowhere to be found. Despite that, I felt a tight knot of tension in my stomach. “Uh, yeah.” We’re just friends, I need to keep reminding myself.

We found a quiet spot to talk. The tension between us was palpable, a mix of emotions swirling in the air.

“I know I’ve been distant,” Evan began, fidgeting with his shirt. “It’s just... Chandler complicates things.”

Feeling defensive, I spoke up. “I shouldn’t have to distance myself from him just because...” I trailed off, my voice wavering, “...just because you’re jealous.”

Evan winced, but then locked eyes with me. “I understand. I’m trying, for you. But when he flirts with you...” He paused, pain evident in his expression.

“What about Tahni?” I blurted out. “She’s always all over you. You don’t push her away, and everyone thinks you two are together. Imagine how that looks to everyone else. Me stuck in the middle.”

His face tensed, then he sighed. “You know Tahni. She’s... intense. The whole ‘dating’ thing was her idea. I haven’t figured out how to handle it without causing drama.”

The revelation didn’t come as a surprise, but there was a weary honesty in his gaze that caught me off guard. “Alright, but I kind of feel like...” I paused, searching for the right words, “... like a pawn in whatever game you two are playing.”

He winced, and I immediately regretted my bluntness. “I don’t want you to feel that way.”

We stood in silence, the tension palpable in the air. Then, slowly, he moved closer, his eyes locked on mine. “It’s not perfect,” he murmured softly, almost a whisper, “But maybe we can try... communicate more? Be honest? It’s a start, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” I whispered back, my heart racing.

A glimmer of hope appeared in his eyes. “So, what do you think? Can we start fresh?” He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from my face.

His touch sent a shiver down my spine. “Okay,” I said, meeting his gaze. “We can start over.”

“Yeah,” I agreed quietly, “a new beginning. But remember,” I added firmly, “I can’t have you allowing Tahni to walk all over you, and I won’t be in a position where I have to choose between you and my friends.”

He smiled slightly, the first genuine smile I had seen in days. “Deal. And hey, maybe you can give me some pointers on dealing with Tahni. You do have, um, years of experience with her.”

I let out a reluctant laugh. “Well, she might be even more difficult when it comes to guys she likes,” I warned him.

“Noted,” he chuckled, his eyes showing a newfound warmth. “Any advice is appreciated, trust me.”

It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot. But with mutual understanding and a hint of shared humor, it felt like a step forward. Maybe we could figure this out together.

The hospital corridors turned into a hazy scene, a combination of bright fluorescent lights and the strong smell of disinfectant. Dad and Pops walked beside me, giving me a sense of security even though I felt queasy.

As the nurse weighed me, a flicker of anxiety replaced the numbness. Had I gained enough? Lost too much? Please, just let it be stable. The cool metal of the scale against my bare feet sent a shiver up my spine.

“You’re doing well, Sloane,” the nurse said cheerfully, her voice breaking the silence of the room. “You might have even gained a bit of weight!” It was a small victory, but I held onto it tightly.

She asked her usual questions: “How’s your appetite? Sleep? Energy levels?” Then, with a kind smile, she inquired, “Any new symptoms you haven’t mentioned before?”

My cheeks turned red, and I quickly glanced at Dad and Pops. They were deep in conversation about lawnmowers, thankfully unaware. “I, um, had a nosebleed the other day,” I murmured, barely audible. “Just a small one.”

Dad looked worried, and Pops seemed surprised. The nurse, unfazed, made a note. “It’s good that you mentioned it,” she reassured me, her voice calming. “We’ll inform Dr. Giacherio.”

Dad and Pops stayed close as I headed to the infusion center, their concern weighing on me. They said they would get coffee in the cafeteria, their voices fading into the background as I found a recliner.

Right in front of me, a sudden burst of bright purple grabbed my attention. Lylah, a burst of bold color in the dull environment, smiled, her sparkling amethyst eyes filled with mischief. I would never have imagined that she was fighting stage 4 acute lymphocytic leukemia from her cheerful attitude. Despite her challenging treatment journey, she appeared...almost lively.

Lylah’s mom was sitting close by, flipping through a magazine and giving a half-smile every now and then.

“Beanies, huh?” Lylah croaked, her voice sounding a bit weaker than usual.

“Trying out the chemo-chic look,” I teased, adjusting the soft cotton on my head. “Not sure if it’s working.”

She let out a laugh, which was like music to my ears. “Girl, you could make anything look good.”

“Alright, spill the tea!” Lylah leaned in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “I need to hear all about what’s happening with you, Evan, and Chandler. I want to live vicariously through your drama.”

“Well…” I paused, a smile playing on my lips. “Things with Evan... there might be a glimmer of hope. And Chandler is still his usual protective self.” I couldn’t keep the truth from Lylah. She could always tell when something was up.

Lylah’s grin widened. “Ooh, spill the details, girl!”

I took a deep breath, preparing myself. “Okay, so here’s the deal... Evan and I, well, we kind of had a moment…”

Lylah’s eyes widened. “A moment? Like, a real moment?”

I felt my cheeks flush. “Maybe more like... a few moments,” I confessed, avoiding her gaze.

“Come on, spill it all!” Lylah urged.

I told her about the talk I had with Evan and the agreement we made. “But there’s more...” I paused, biting my lip.

“Ooh, more secrets!” Lylah said excitedly, clapping her hands.

“It’s... well, Chandler and I... we kissed.” I spoke softly, the words hanging in the air.

“Oh my gosh, that was all before everything got so complicated,” I told Lylah. “But the thing is, I actually kissed Chandler first. And then, well, Evan and I... it was more than just kissing.” I could feel my face turning red with embarrassment.

Lylah was in shock. “Wow, you’re like in a real-life soap opera! Two guys fighting over you? That’s like a dream come true!”

We explored the most recent updates, her giggles bringing warmth to the clinical atmosphere. It felt like a special moment as we chatted away, cancer momentarily forgotten. However, when Lylah’s mom assisted her to get up, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy mixed with guilt. While her treatment was over for the day, mine was far from finished. Lylah gave me a friendly wave and a playful wink before saying, “Don’t let those boys get on your nerves too much!”

Time seemed to drag on, the consistent beat of the IV pump echoing the weariness flowing through me. The potent mix of VDC/IE surged through my system, sending a chilling sensation down my veins. Three hours had passed, but two more still remained. It felt like an eternity. I let out a sigh, shutting my eyes as the machines’ gentle hum slowly put me into a restless nap.

The journey back seemed to drag on forever, a profound tiredness seeping into my bones. The Suburban’s usual smell of leather and Dad’s cologne mingled with the lingering hospital scent of disinfectant, a poignant reminder of where I had just come from. Putting on my coziest pajamas felt like a small triumph, each action a conscious struggle against the fatigue dragging me down. I nestled into the blankets, Bernard quickly snuggling up next to me, his comforting warmth a soothing pressure against my sore body.

My phone vibrated on the nightstand - messages, probably from Chandler and Evan, checking in. A pang of guilt mixed with a flicker of warmth. Maybe things weren’t so impossible after all. “Just gotta keep my head above water,” I thought, a familiar mantra echoing in my mind.

“Hey there, chemo-chic,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Stetson leaned against the frame, a stack of textbooks tucked under his arm. “Thought you might need these. Gotta keep those grades up, even for the chronically ill.”

“Ugh,” I groaned, a wave of dizziness washing over me. The room seemed to tilt, the colors blurring around the edges.

His expression tightened. “You sure you’re okay? You look a little...”

“Just tired,” I murmured, closing my eyes and willing the nausea to subside. Before I could protest, I felt a cool hand on my forehead.

“Maybe I should get Dad...” Stetson began, a note of worry creeping into his voice.

“No... just... crackers,” I whispered, the room spinning faster now. “Please?”

Before I could fully register what was happening, the world tilted, and darkness rushed in, swallowing me whole. The last thing I heard was Stetson’s startled yelp and the thud of Art History I, French II, and Psychology hitting the floor.

The bright lights above me snapped me out of my sleep. I groaned and tried to go back to sleep, but a loud beeping noise kept me awake.

“Sloane?” A voice called out to me, sounding far away. I opened my eyes and saw the hospital room around me. The smell of antiseptic filled my nose.

“Can you hear me, sweetie?” A woman with kind eyes and a serious look on her face asked me. “You’re in the ER. Do you remember what happened?”

“I passed out...” I whispered, struggling to speak over the beeping machines. I remembered Stetson, his concerned face, and my scattered textbooks.

“That’s correct.” The doctor spoke gently but firmly. “You fainted due to a combination of factors - chemotherapy, dehydration, and low blood sugar. We did some tests and you’ll be staying overnight for observation.”

The thought of more time in the hospital weighed on me. “But... school...” I weakly protested.

The doctor smiled sympathetically. “School can wait. Right now, your priority is to rest and let your body heal.”

I knew she was right, as frustrating as it was. Resignation washed over me, and with it, a wave of bone-deep exhaustion. Maybe a hospital bed and a forced night of rest was just what I needed. “Maybe I can even catch up on some sleep,” I thought wryly, a small smile tugging at my lips.

Just then, the door swung open, and in walked Dad and Pops, their faces etched with worry. “Sloane!” Dad rushed to my side, his eyes scanning me for any sign of injury. “Are you okay, honey?”

Pops followed suit, his expression softening as he took my hand. “What happened, sunshine?”

I recounted the events, feeling a pang of guilt for causing them such alarm. Dad’s brow furrowed, a mixture of concern and frustration playing across his face. “You need to tell us when you’re feeling unwell, Sloane. We can’t help you if you don’t communicate.”

Pops placed a calming hand on Dad’s shoulder. “I’m sure she will from now on,” he said, his voice gentle. “Right, Sloane?”

I nodded, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me again. “I promise,” I whispered, closing my eyes and letting the warmth of their love surround me.