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Chapter 10
The treatments are going as well as can be expected, and I am faithful to the new regimen. My routine is solid. Every weekday, I go into the hospital for chemotherapy, and three times a week, I go in for radiation in addition to the chemo. So far, I’ve seen no signs of Rory, and no one has commented on my disguise of sunglasses and a hat as I walk through the lobby.
My body is taking a hell of a beating, but Dr. Ramirez looks at me—and at my chart—with hope, so I push through the pain.
I lost five pounds in the first week, and some days are better than others with nausea. Days when the chemo is combined with the radiation are the worst, especially the next day. Mandy was right about absolutely everything. I’m hungry and can hardly keep anything down half the time. Drinking calories has been somewhat helpful, but the pounds are still shedding off my body.
I had radiation yesterday, and I haven’t been able to keep anything down today. I’m due at the hospital in an hour, and I have a raging headache.
Rummaging through the cabinet, I grab for pain meds and stare at the vitamin bottle. Did I take my vitamins this morning like I was supposed to? I can’t remember, and I panic.
Skipping vitamins one day isn’t the end of the world, but so far, I’ve treated treatment with the same discipline I used to treated training. Missing supplements is not an option for me or for my routine.
The bottle rests next to the pain meds, and I grab them both. I stare between them, unsure why I grabbed them. My head pounds, and I remember the headache. I take two pain pills from the bottle and stare at the vitamin bottle again. What the hell is happening? My brain is misfiring, and I have no idea why. I shake my head, trying to clear it, and the movement makes the room spin.
The floor moves from under my feet, and I’m about to topple over, so I grab the edge of the counter. I try to lick my cracked lips, but my tongue is dry. Fuck. I’m dehydrated.
Holding on to the counter, I go to the sink and fill a glass. I try to chug it, but it only comes back up.
I pull my phone out to call a car. Looks like I’m heading to the hospital early today.
Nurse Sara replacesthe IV fluids for the second time, and I look at her, a bit embarrassed.
“It’s very common to get dehydrated when you can’t keep anything down,” she says soothingly.
“Yeah. I know. I’m glad I noticed before I passed out.”
“You did good. You need anything else for now?”
“No. Thank you, Sara.”
She walks out of my room, leaving me with my thoughts—another hospitalization. I get to stay overnight until I can keep down two full meals in a row. I’ll need to make another large deposit to the hospital. Hospital stays in the U.S. are much more expensive than I thought they would be. I’m so glad I asked Pilar for more money than I thought I’d need to be on the safe side, though I have no idea how the hell I’m going to pay her back.
A new doctor I don’t know walks into my room, followed closely by Dr. Ramirez.
“Valentina, how are you?” Dr. Ramirez asks.
“I’ve been better,” I say dryly.
She nods. “This is Dr. Medina. He will be the new attending on your case.”
Dr. Medina is tall and handsome, and I don’t for one minute miss the twinkle in Dr. Ramirez’s eye when she looks at him. I press my lips together because she can’t hide her feelings at all, and it’s adorable. Dr. Ramirez briefs Dr. Medina on my case like the residents do at morning rounds.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Almonte,” Dr. Medina says. “I’m new to the clinical trial team, but we will see a lot of each other now that I am here.”
Dr. Ramirez mentioned him earlier, when she was about to meet him. At the time, she thought he would be unattractive, but Dr. Medina is super hot for an older guy, and yet, I could see them together despite their age difference.
When he sits to read my chart and turns away, I mouth to Dr. Ramirez that he is hot, and I bang the air to get a reaction out of her. Her eyes widen with horror, and she pins me with a look begging me to stop. I press my lips together to seal the laugh inside of me.
“Thank you, doctor,” I say to Dr. Medina as they excuse themselves. I can’t wait to see how their relationship unfolds.
I’m bored out of my mind the rest of the day and drift off to sleep by eight p.m. The next thing I know, I’m awakened for rounds at 6 a.m. I hate hospital stays. It’s been nice sleeping in for the first time in my adult life, but it never happens when I’m admitted overnight. It’s as if they like to start rounds with me, so I’m the earliest every day.
The lights go on in my room, and the trail of footfalls follows. It’s usually one attending and seven to ten residents and interns. I groan and pull my pillow over my face with annoyance.
Someone clears their throat, and I wave them to go on. A resident whose voice I don’t recognize starts presenting my case. I hate hearing it. Every time they mention the details of my case, I feel like the stupidest woman on earth. Who skips their pap tests? Who ignores symptoms?
Me. I do all of those things, and my penance is my life. I only half-listen to the residents discussing my case. My philosophy on my involvement in my own treatment is likely as asinine as my prevention plan. I do what they say. All I ask is that they be aggressive with treatment and tell me where to be and what time.
