Bruce had started his chemotherapy treatment. He had opted to have it done from home so that he wouldn't have to travel anywhere when the side effects started to kick in. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he was scared shitless. The rest of the band had called to wish him luck and to let him know that they were there for him. Some of his pilot and drinking buddies had done the same. Even though he appreciated it, he felt alone. No-one knew what was going on through his head. No-one was fighting the battle with him. Paddy and the kids were as supportive as they could be, but, it was the same with them, they weren't in his head. They had no idea what he was going through. He had his tough guy exterior. But he was scared. It was fucking cancer. His Dad had died of lung cancer, yes, he was a lifelong smoker, but it had killed him. Bruce wasn't a smoker, a drug user, wasn't a heavy drinker, kept a somewhat healthy diet...will cancer keep that in mind while it feeds off his healthy cells? More than likely not.
Chemo was kicking his ass. He was constantly exhausted, nauseous, and couldn't seem to find the want or need to do anything. He stayed at home watching TV, which was boring. Even his regular history or war shows were beginning to bore him. Paddy had set him up the recliner as his sleeping area for the time being. Sleeping sitting up seemed to be more comfortable for him. She also made sure that his immune system was staying strong by giving him supplements for it. The kids would sit with him in the living room and watch movies with him. Austin would show him some new lyrics he was working on for his bands new album. Griffin had new gear for his clothing line. Kia would just spend time talking with him. Bruce appreciated it, at the same time though, would everyone be as attentive if he didn't have cancer? Maybe the "C" word brought thoughts of death to their minds, maybe they thought their old man was close to dying and wanted to spend time with him before he was gone. Bruce couldn't wait to get better. As much as he loved his bandmates, his friends, his family, he wanted the attention focused elsewhere.
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Steve sat in the kitchen of his house. He was browsing on his laptop, looking up different treatments for the cancer Bruce had, what the life expectancy was...he just wanted to know everything there was about it. Stanley walked in the kitchen and looked over his Dad's shoulder, "This has really gotten to you, hasn't it?" Steve looked up at his youngest Son, "Yeah, it has. Not only because it's Bruce, but it kind of made me think of my mortality. I'm not getting any younger. If it can happen to Bruce, it can happen to any of us." Stanley nodded his head, "True, but you can't think like that Dad. You can get hit by a car taking the rubbish out to the road." Steve sighed, he shut his computer and got up, "I know, I'm being silly. I'm just worried about Bruce. He doesn't want any of us bothering him until the treatment is over. Have you heard from Austin or Griff?" Stanley grabbed a soda from the fridge, he shook his head as he sat down at the kitchen island, "No, haven't spoke to either of them in a while. I think George may have spoken to Austin. Probably about music though, not sure how personal they got." Steve knew he was being ridiculous. He didn't know why Bruce's cancer was bothering him so much. He was a good friend, they were after all a part of each others lives for almost 40 years. Steve sighed and sat back down at his computer, "I'm going to order him a present. I'm sure he's bored to death." Stanley let out a chuckle, "As active as he usually is, he's probably climbing the walls, literally."
