Sink Or Swim

Yesterday. Doctor appointment. 

We had a snow day, so T came with me. In retrospect, I'm glad. I am beginning to disassociate whenever I am in that office too long. I start to go somewhere else in my head, a softer place to be. 

T was furiously taking notes, asking questions. I just sat with the lab results hanging limp in my hand. I had looked at them briefly, then looked away. 

Nothing is better. Everything is worse. This is the part where I rally my strength and throw my fist in the air and proclaim that CANCER WILL NOT FUCKING CLAIM ME. 

Except....I couldn't. I was so sick of it all. The labs. The constant searchings for a decent vein to stick. The smell of the waiting room. Yesterday, I sat with a blank look on my face. Gave the doctor my best wan smile when she said, "So, on to plan B. We will reduce your chemo dose and see if that brings your white blood cell count and platelets up. If not, well, you will need to be admitted so that we can give you a transfusion. I don't want to risk giving you something to boost your white blood cell count as that could re-activate your leukemia. So...let's just hope for the best and move on, okay?"

Okay. 

Not sure what else I could say. The nurse came in to give us the paperwork for my next appointment. I didn't say much. She was giving me that kind look that nurses do when the news is bad. On the way out, the nurses aide who always weighs me and takes my temperature, etc., came up to me and put both arms on either of my shoulders and looked me directly in the eyes. 

"Hang on, kiddo," he said. "I'll see you next time, okay?" 

I nodded. 

We went out to the car. T turned to me and gently asked if I'd like to go get a coffee, some food. It was late in the afternoon and I had been fasting for the labs. I said maybe a coffee was okay. We stopped at a Starbucks and she went in to get my coffee. Came out with the coffee and a small muffin. I knew she would try to coax me to eat it. I would eat it. For her. 

Later that night, I would wander into the kitchen for a glass of water and see her hunched over the kitchen sink, silently crying. I put my arms around her. Patted her. 

"It's ok," I said. She turned to me. 

"No," she said. "It's not. I can hardly stand to watch you fall like this. And I can't imagine what it feels like for you." 

I felt strangely numb. I thought for a moment. 

"It feels like falling off a cliff in slow motion," I finally said. 

We stood for a long time, holding each other. 

And then we sat down and watched The Vikings and got back to life. Because that is what we do. 

Nothing else to do. 

Let's see if I sink or swim.