Page 27 of Lovesick
Maggie. Every day, she came to see me - sometimes more than once - and every day, even just for a little while, I felt better because she was there. Her smile, her laugh - they never changed. She always cracked jokes and laughed at herself when I couldn’t find the energy to smile. She would tell me about her day, sometimes with input from me and other times just holding a conversation with herself if I didn’t feel up to talking much.
One day, I slept a lot more than normal. Each time I woke up, I glanced to the chair beside my bed where she always sat, but she was never there. I asked the nurse about her when she came in to check on me. “Oh, Maggie? She’s been in a couple times today… said you were sleeping and didn’t want to wake you up. She said she’d be back tonight for a few minutes, and this time she’d wake you up if you were still a sleep.”
That made my heart swell. Maggie understood. She knew that I would rather her wake me than let me think she hadn’t come to visit all day. Or, find a way to tell me if she couldn’t make it for some reason.
The doctor also came to check on me every day, sometimes twice. She asked the usual stuff like, “How’ve you been feeling?” and would tell me something that was meant as encouragement like, “You’re doing fine… Hodgkin’s Lymphoma is one of the most treatable cancers, and your treatment is progressing exactly by the book - no complications, nothing unusual. I’m pleased with your progress…” Except for one thing that she tactfully refrained from mentioning, probably since it wasn’t a direct result of the cancer.
Finally, after years and many talks with Maggie that always ended with me denying it, I had to admit I had gone too far with my drinking. A little over a week into my therapy, I mentioned to the nurse that I had been sweating and shaking off and on all day.
She checked my blood work, asked a couple of questions, and was immediately able to tell me that this wasn’t a side effect of chemo - just alcohol withdrawal.
Hearing it from a trained medical professional - and the relief that it wasn’t something else even worse - finally pounded it into my skull how unhealthy my habits had been.
Of course, I couldn’t drink during treatment. The nurse had told me those symptoms would disappear long before the chemotherapy was over, but I might still have the urge to drink. She was right, too.Sometimes I still crave the taste of an ice-cold beer.
Today, the day before I would be released from the hospital and continue my treatment elsewhere, I had a lot to be thankful for. I knew it didn’t mean much… not yet. I still had a long way to go. But I was making progress, and I couldn’t help but feel happier knowing my mother and Maggie were coming to help me move into my new digs.
I wasn’t going far - just a few miles away to a block of housing provided by the cancer center for patients who needed to stay nearby for therapy. Those few miles, though, whisked me away from a sterile white room and to a place with curtains, painted walls, a kitchenette, and furniture that wasn’t for drawing blood or checking heart rates - oh, and of course, chairs for visitors, with visitors being mostly Maggie.
The day before yesterday, she came to visit after her very last day of rotations at the center. “Yep!” she announced proudly when I asked her if she really was done. “They even threw me a party - you know, cupcakes in the office. I thought it was a goodbye party, but guess what?”
I could guess rather easily because Maggie was absolutely radiant and doing a terrible job of hiding her smile, but I wanted to let her tell me. “What is it?”
“I passed by nursing board exam, and I’m hired.” She grabbed my hand and bounced up and down. “At the Tulane University Cancer Center. They want me to stay on as an RN and start working after graduation!”
I had opened my arms so she could dive into them for a hug. “Congratulations,” I told her. “You’re amazing.”
Maggie had held me a moment longer until she literally started to shake with excitement and pulled back, probably for fear of hurting me. “It’s so great! I’ll be staying right here in New Orleans, close to you. I’ll have to check with the case manager, but I’m pretty sure that family is allowed to stay with you at your new place. And I believe they allow caregivers as well. They know me, and…”
I hadn’t tuned Maggie out - I never wanted to do that. But, as she kept cheerfully monologuing about the future and all the possibilities, I noticed more and more cute things about her that I had missed before.
Maggie gestured a lot when she was happy like the motions would send her flying into the anticipated future faster. She never seemed to run out of things to talk about, even when all I did was smile or nod. Maggie was fearless. When she planned out her future, she brought mine into the mix and started making plans for me too.
I knew what I would be doing in the near future, but it was truly entertaining to listen to Maggie project different scenarios and situations for me and decide what I would do inside them. Even when I offered next to no input, she still managed to get some of that signature Maggie bossiness in there.
Since that bossiness was what had saved my life, I vowed never to mind it again.
* * *
The next day, Maggie was already here by the time Momma arrived to inspect my new place. Unsurprisingly, she was absolutely thrilled to see Maggie and pulled her into a big thank-you hug. Then, they both proceeded to hold a long conversation about me while I was right there, sitting in my chair.
“The nurse told me about the alcohol withdrawal when I came to visit last week,” my mom said. I winced a bit, at the reminder of how far I had let things slide. “Maggie, Honey, I want you to know that, as a family, we’re cutting back on our drinking. This was a wake-up call for Andrew too, and I finally got him to go see our family doctor for the first time in…”
“Really?” I interjected. “Dad’s going to the doctor.”
“Yes, Marty. I did too, yesterday. We can never be too careful.”
From Maggie’s vigorous nodding, I could tell she wholeheartedly agreed.
“How has it been for you, Honey?”
This ‘honey’ was directed at me, and I knew full well what she was asking about.
I shrugged uncomfortably, regretting that I had ever inserted myself into the women’s conversation. “Okay, I guess. The nurse told me I might crave alcohol even when the symptoms ended. She wasn’t wrong.” Last night, I had the wild thought of calling Maggie and asking her to pick me up a beer. Just one beer… That couldn’t hurt, right? Wrong, and I knew it. I hadn’t called Maggie.
“I was just wondering. I want to use you as a good example for your father.”
“Well…then tell him this is a piece of cake.” She laughed, and I smiled a little. The sooner we could get off the subject of drinking, the better.
