Mitch's P.O.V.
We were in hospital again, visiting. We had been in and out almost everyday for at least a few months after Jerome was diagnosed with stage 4 AML leukemia (or Acute Myeloid Leukemia) and had to start chemotherapy.
Because it was such a late diagnosis it was so much worse than it could have been, and because they had to up the dose of chemo every time, he was still very sick.
Jerome had just come out of a CT scan and was still under anaesthetic. The doctors were starting to get worried, the cancer cells weren't responding to the treatment and they were starting to consider a bone marrow transplant as the only possible option.
When the car pulled up outside the very familiar hospital I hesitated. I knew that when I went in there, I would see a very sick Jerome. The chemotherapy treatment made him sick constantly, he had had a fever and lost his hair.
The room was the same as it always was, white walls covered in fan art given to him by fans who were wishing him the best. I was very nervous, today was the day we would be given the news about whether or not he would have to have a bone marrow transplant and yet more chemo.
Jerome was sitting up in bed, his arm attached to a bag of the chemo drugs, his head covered with a black beanie to keep his head warm. Even though the bed had him sitting up, he was asleep, his face and chest pale.
He was dressed in one of those terrible hospital gowns that showed his chest, the blankets only wrapped around the bottom half of his body. Rob and Preston were both with me, they had flown over to Florida as soon as Jerome was taken into hospital and refused to go home, never leaving my side.
Rob and Preston's hands were intertwined with each others and I smiled at them, sitting down on the bed and simply waiting, waiting for the news of what would eventually happen.
After a half hour wait Jerome was awake, although still very tired and barely alert. He had made me move in his previous position so he could rest his head on my lap, something he found comforting and for some reason, comfortable.
The doctor came in, the same one Jerome had had since he was diagnosed and the one in charge of the cancer ward. He did a quick check over of Jerome to make sure the chemo drugs were still making their way to where they were supposed to be going, just like the other nurses did every half an hour.
"Okay, I'm just going to get straight to the point because I know you've been so worried. The cancer cells aren't responding to the chemo you've been given Jerome, no matter what the dose and the only option we've got left is a bone marrow transplant."
Jerome nodded, he wasn't surprised. He had known, the nurses had told him and because of that we weren't either. They had already found a donor and we knew they would try to get it started as soon as possible after the chemo.
We had been briefed on what would happen, he would have to have a major round of chemo for at least a week to wipe out his immune system and his own bone marrow cells so his body would accept the new ones. Jerome knew what would happen too.
"You already know what will happen and because of how far along the cancer is we want to start the new chemo as soon as possible, tomorrow probably." He looked down at Jerome and Jerome nodded, knowing it was a long time coming.
I hadn't heard Jerome talk in at least a few weeks, during the treatment he had almost become mute as his way of coping. The doctors weren't worried, they said it was normal especially in teenagers who didn't have any other way of coping.
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The next day we were back in hospital and Jerome was confirmed to start the new round of chemo to wipe his immune system. We were told that one of us was allowed to stay with him overnight and I had volunteered, to keep him company.
