What's Left of Me
Page 69

My mouth is dry from all my talking, but I don’t stop. I tell him all about my port, my current treatments, losing my hair, and more on what’s to come. He doesn’t speak. He just holds my hand while drawing light circles in my palm with his thumb.
He asks questions, and I answer.
I’m not sure what I was so afraid of. Love heals all wounds.
I hope.
Chapter Nineteen
Parker insists on coming with me to my last chemo treatment, along with Genna and my parents. Jason wanted to come, but couldn’t be away from the clinic, and assured Parker not to worry.
I get my blood drawn, then head downstairs to the oncology office for an appointment with Dr. Olson, who came to the Mayo Clinic for the day. As my name is called back, everyone stands with me.
As we make our way back to the room, I smile at the thought of having everyone I love— aside from Jason and Jean—with me. I feel blessed to know I have the support of my family. To know they want to be here for this: my appointment, my last treatment; everything.
“Dr. Olson will be with you in a few minutes,” the assistant says as she exits the room.
There isn’t enough space for all of us at the small table. Parker and Dad stand off to the side, while Mom sits next to me and Genna sits in an extra chair the assistant brought in.
There are two soft knocks on the door before Dr. Olson walks in.
“Wow, full house today.” She laughs as she makes her way over to the desk. I re-introduce her to my family, then to Parker. I don’t know what to call him, so I just call him my friend. He doesn’t seem to disapprove, but I also don’t miss the small twitch in his jaw at the introduction.
“Aundrea, how are you feeling today?”
I love this question. She never asks me how I am. It’s like she just knows how her patients are doing. Crappy. I mean, come on, we have cancer. She always gets to us on a different level. A deeper level.
“Today? Great,” I say with a smile. It’s the truth.
“That’s good. How are the symptoms your dad called me about?”
“The pain is better. I still ache every now and then. I think the headaches are the worst. I feel like I have one every day.”
“Yeah, that’s a common side effect, and, unfortunately, an unpleasant one. Do you think you want something for migraines?”
“No, I already take enough pills.”
“Fair enough. Well,” she looks down at my open file on her desk, “Your markers came back.” Looking back up to me, she gives a smile. “They’re good, Aundrea. Great, actually. We’ll schedule one more lab draw in four weeks, and if all is well, you’ll be getting the transplant.”
My mom claps her hands together in excitement. Genna smiles at me and Dad gives me an approving head nod. When my eyes meet Parker’s, he gives me a wink.
“That’s great!”
“I thought you’d like that. We’ll admit you for the transplant. Remember, you’ll stay in the hospital for about three to four weeks, and your outside visitors will be very limited.”
I look at Parker, but I can’t read his expression. He’s hanging on her every word.
“We need to keep you away from any type of infections. I’ll have orders for you to get blood transfusions throughout your stay to keep your platelets up, and IV antibiotics to help fight infection. It’s very crucial you don’t get sick during that time, because if you do, we run the risk of your body rejecting the transplant.”
“I understand. I’ll do whatever it takes.” I mean this with everything I have. I will follow all the doctor’s orders, even if that means I have to be isolated from the world for an entire month. As long as I have my Kindle, I’ll be okay. Well, maybe my phone, too.
Parker stays by my side during the entire treatment. He asks the nurse a hundred questions about what I am getting, how it is administered, and even my dosage. I like seeing this side of him. How completely invested he is in my well-being. It makes me really happy knowing he cares this much about me.
After my treatment, my parents have to go back home, so Parker offers me his place to stay. I don’t even try to protest because I know that giving Genna and Jason a small break would be nice. I’ve been with them almost nonstop since I got here.
“Are you doing okay?”
We’re sitting on his couch with my head in his lap. I’ve been writing in my journal while he watches the hockey game.
Looking up, I see him looking down into my eyes. “Yes. Nothing has changed since you asked five minutes ago.”
“I’m just checking.”
“Relax, Parker,” I say with a slight smile.
“I am relaxed. What are you writing about? Me?”
“No,” I say, holding my journal to my chest to hide it.
“What? I can’t look?”
“No.”
“Why? I’m in there, aren’t I?
“Maybe,” I say with a smile.
“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows as the corner of his mouth turns up.
“Yes, oh,” I mock.
“Then I should read it.”
“It’s really not all that interesting.”
“Everything you have to say is interesting, Aundrea.”
One of my doctors told me I should keep a journal during my treatment. That it would relax me and allow me to get my feelings out. I only pull it out once a month to write one long entry. It’s better than giving daily, boring updates.