Page 64 of We Were Something
I’m tucked in the corner of Ivy’s hospital room the following Wednesday morning, trying to make myself invisible as I listen to Logan give a rundown of the details of the upcoming surgeries and procedures everyone will be going through in the coming weeks.
When Lennon talked to me about being here for Hannah and Lucas a few times over the coming weeks, I assumed it would just be the three of us with Logan in a normal doctor’s office.
I didn’t anticipate that my first day of acting as a Hospital Shuttle would be an all-hands-on-deck kind of meeting, and now I’m in the room listening as he lays out the full calendar for not just myself and Lucas and Hannah, but also Ben and Wyatt and Ivy and their mom, Vivian.
Even Remmy is here, but I can tell she feels slightly out of place as well since she’s tucked herself in this corner next to me.
Though I don’t know how invisible she can make herself with that growing belly of hers.
The only people who aren’t here are Lennon and Mr. Calloway, though the fact that Ivy’s asshole of a father didn’t show isn’t much of a surprise since the man is the most self-absorbed piece of shit ever to walk the face of the earth.
Okay, maybe that’s a little much. I mean, thereareserial killers out there. But the man rarely showed up to any of Ivy’s appointmentsbeforeshe was in the hospital. And Ivy has been cagey about him in the one or two times I’ve asked, leading me to think he hasn’t been in to visit her in the two months she’s been here.
The Calloways really drew the short stick when it came to parents.
Though I guess my own stick is pretty short as well.
“It has taken a bit longer than we’d anticipated,” Logan says, drawing me back to the here and now, “but Ivy finally went completely off her meds not too long ago, so we completed her first round of chemotherapy yesterday.”
My eyes widen in shock, and I glance over to where Ivy is sitting in her bed as she watches Hannah interpret for her. Her eyes are tired and her skin is slightly pale, but there aren’t any other visible signs, which is normal after the first round. It’s likely if she goes through two to three more rounds, other signs will become more visible.
I’ve read up a lot on what chemo can do to a body, so the fact that I didn’t realize she was going to receive it as a part of this treatment makes me angry with myself for not paying more attention.
“Beginning today and every day for the next four days, Hannah and Lucas will receive daily injections of filgrastim. This will cause the blood stem cells in your bone marrow to replicate and secrete into the blood stream. As we’ve discussed previously, there will be a lot of achiness and feelings similar to having the flu. Once we’ve completed the injections, we’ll bring Hannah and Lucas in for apheresis, which is when we will draw out blood, collect the blood stem cells, and then return the rest of the blood back to your bodies.
“It’s a seven- to eight-hour procedure scheduled for next Monday. Lucas and Hannah will be fatigued, but should be back to normal health within two days, which is how long it takes for the blood stem cells to regenerate after donation. Any questions so far?”
Logan glances around the room, but nobody says anything so he continues.
“The week after that, so twelve days from today, Lucas and Hannah will go under general anesthesia to complete traditional bone marrow donation. That bone marrow, along with the blood stem cells, will then be sent up to Dr. Singh in Washington to work his magic via the clinical trial techniques for about two weeks before sending it back for transplant.
“During this time, we will be doing several more rounds of low-dose chemotherapy on Ivy to destroy her current marrow, along with introducing a few new drugs into her system that will lower the likelihood that she’ll reject the specimen Dr. Singh sends back.”
“And what’s the timeline? From today until you attempt the transplant?” Ben asks.
When I look over at him, I see the same tired look in his eyes that I see in Ivy’s. It makes me wonder if it’s from the chemo or from the exhaustion that comes along with illness in general.
Wyatt’s eyes are similar, as are Vivian’s, that kind of desperate look of knowing there isn’t anything you can do but be here and be hopeful.
“Four to five weeks,” Logan tells them. “A week for the injections and blood donation. Another week for recovery and then bone marrow donation. Then two weeks with Dr. Singh before we attempt the transplant.”
The room is silent after he’s done speaking, and I can see on Logan’s face the desire he has to reassure them. He wants to tell them it will all be okay.
But he won’t. He won’t try to guarantee something, won’t try to make promises he can’t keep. He’s just not that kind of man.
“I’m gonna be fine, guys,” Ivy says, giving everyone a tired smile. “I’m too awesome to die.”
A quiet round of giggles circles the room.
Ivy signs something to Hannah, who then shares Ivy’s question out loud.
“You said Dr. Singh is having good success with this, right? And there are other people who get way less perfect bone marrow transplants who are cured and survive?”
Logan focuses his attention on Ivy, crossing the room and sitting on the end of her bed.
“Yes, I did say that.” He leans forward and pats her hands, the sweet affection he shows her warming my heart. “And it’s one hundred percent true. But what else did I tell you? About the survival rate?”
Ivy rolls her eyes—such a teenager thing to do when talking about death and survival rates.
