Meant To Be Together

32

TW's:
-Chemotherapy
-Throwing up
(This chapter is really sad, but I don't know how to really explain it as TW)

The three weeks passed by way quicker than I had hoped on and before I knew I was in hospital again for my chemo. Yesterday I had a bone marrow biopsy again to see if the leukaemia was getting a little less and I would get the results quickly. It was my first chemo of the week today and my parents were here. Clay was still at school, but he would come here immediately after, which would be in one hour.

I was just sitting still as the drugs entered my body through my IV as the doctor walked in. He had a serious face and grabbed a chair to sit down on.

'George, I don't have that great news.'

'What?'

The doctor looked at my parents and sighed a little, smiling shortly after. 'Maybe your parents want to be close to you. I hate bringing this news, but I unfortunately have to.'

My mother stood up and sat down next to me in my bed, holding my hand tightly. I saw she had tears in her eyes already and the bad news wasn't even said yet.

'What's wrong?' I whispered. 'Am I dying?'

The doctor didn't answer me and he looked down at his hands for a short while. 'The last chemos appeared to have done nothing.'

'Nothing?'

'How have you been feeling last weeks?'

I had been feeling terrible, even though I just kept going because I didn't want to get sent back to the hospital. The dizziness had returned worse than ever, I had a nosebleed once, but I told no one. My arm was bruised again, I was exhausted and I even had to skip school a few times. I just wanted to make it seem like everything was alright.

'I uh- not that well,' I whispered, scared for my mum's reply.

She said nothing and rubbed my hand softly as the doctor nodded. 'The leukaemia cells have been rapidly growing and dividing.'

'What does that mean?' I whispered.

'That we don't know if chemo will make you better.'

'What will make me better then?'

The doctor looked at his hands again. 'We need a donor.'

'For what?'

'Stem cells.'

'Why? How do you know for sure the chemo isn't going to work? Is it never? Can we not just try for a little longer?'

'We will keep giving you chemo, but your leukaemia cells are higher than they were at the start of this.'

'Am I dying?'

'We aren't giving up. We are going to try and give you new drugs to kill the cancers cells and meanwhile we are going to look for a donor for you.'

'What happens if I get a donor?'

'You get an extremely intense chemotherapy which kills all leukaemia cells, but also your healthy cells. We need someone to match to you so we are able to give you their stem cells.'

I nodded really slowly. 'Who will be a match?'

'Relatives such as siblings. Do you have siblings?'

I nodded. 'I have a brother.'

'But he's adopted,' my mum whispered with tears in her eyes.

The doctor nodded slowly. 'We are often looking for the most youngest donors, so the chance you will be a match with your parents will probably be zero. Do you know anyone else?'

'Clay,' I whispered. 'I don't think he wants to do that and even if he will, the chances are so low we will be a match.'

'But they aren't zero. Does he have any medical issues?'

I shrugged. 'Not anymore.'

'What did he have?'

'Asthma.'

'But he doesn't anymore?'

'He outgrew his asthma. This is not going to work,' I whispered. 'How long does it even take to find a match?'

'Around three months.'

I nodded slowly and I laid down in my bed, feeling nausea coming up because of my chemo. The realisation didn't hit me yet, I wasn't really realising what was just told to me.

I looked up slowly and in complete exhaustion. 'What if they don't find a donor?' I whispered.

The doctor smiled shortly and rubbed over my head. 'We aren't sure about that yet, we just have to say this immediately. Maybe the other drugs will work.'

'Is that why I have so much bone pain?'

'It is, it has spread to all your bone marrow and blood.'

I nodded slowly and rested my head down on my pillow. 'I don't want to die,' I whispered.

My mum kissed my head and stood up after, she grabbed a napkin and wiped her tears away, blowing her nose after. It was completely silent in the room and everyone was just staring.

'I really don't want to die,' I whispered again.

'There might be a chance that you're just going to get better. We are going to try other drugs and stronger chemo.'

I nodded slowly and curled up like a ball, but immediately flew back up because I had to throw up. I didn't have anything to throw up in and my mum tried grabbing something as quick as possible, making me almost choke by trying to not throw up. I threw up when I had a bucket and coughed loudly after.

'I'm so sorry, sweetie. I didn't know you were nauseous.'

I shrugged. 'It's fine.'

I laid back down after I drank some water and I looked up as the door slowly opened. Clay seemed to be out of school and he walked in, running to me.

'Hey, honey,' he said, kissing my forehead. 'How are you? Aww, have you thrown up again?' he asked when he saw my mum coming back with my bucket.

I nodded slowly.

'How are you, honey? Can I make it better?'

He put his bag down and pulled off his coat, climbing on my bed. 'Is something wrong?' he asked as he saw the doctor in the room.

I nodded slowly and I cuddled up with him. 'The leukaemia is stronger than I am,' I whispered.

Clay turned quiet and rubbed my head softly, kissing my cheek after.

'I feel like the leukaemia is going to win.'

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