Wish Upon a Star (5 page)

"I want my happily ever after, E.J. I thought for sure when
we got back together at the start of the tour, I was going to have it.
All my dreams were coming true. And now with this." She punched
the couch with her free hand. "I'm afraid I'm never going to get
it."

Her fear and anger were like a rapid-fire one-two punch to
the gut. I pulled her onto my lap and rocked her like I was rocking a
small child.

"We'll make it Annie. You and me, together. We'll get you
there."

She turned her tear-streaked face up to mine. "You
promise?"

I stroked her cheek with my thumb and brought our
foreheads together. "I promise. And I can't go back on a promise to
my Guiding Light, can I?"

She lifted her head and looked at me, into me, way down in
the depths of my soul. Her beautiful brown eyes were cloudy and
puffy from the tears, but I sensed a touch of hope in there, too. "I love
you, E.J."

"I love you too, Annie." I took her into my arms and held her
as close as her injured body would allow, while I sent up a prayer for
strength.

For the two of us. Because I was pretty sure we'd both need
it.

I opened the car door and took Annie's gloved hand as she
got out. The steam from our breath intermingled as we turned to
face the two-story, brick building. It was adorned with a pale blue
Cancer Care logo. I got the sense the logo was supposed to evoke
feelings of hope and confidence.

It wasn't working.

"You ready for this?"

"As I'll ever be." She raised her hand for a high five. "Let's
get this party started."

While Annie filled out paperwork for what seemed like the
eighty-seventh time, I took in the reception area. Wooden chairs with
cushy cloth upholstery were scattered about the room. Cancer
support-themed magazines were neatly stacked on a matching coffee
table. A couple that looked to be in their sixties was seated in a
corner. The man had papery looking skin and sunken eyes. An
Indianapolis Colts stocking cap covered what I guessed to be a
chemotherapy-induced bald head. The plumpness of his wife
accentuated his rail-thin physique.

I flipped through one of the magazines and was inundated
with images of men with no hair, women who looked woefully thin,
and children in hospital beds. There was an article on estate
planning. My heart started hammering in my chest as question after
question blew up in my mind.

Good God, what am I up against? How sick is Annie going
to get? Will she end up bed-ridden? Will I be spending the next year
caring for Annie just like I cared for Mom the last year of her life? Am I
even strong enough to go through that again? Annie's got no family, if
I don't take care of her, who will? What if she dies? Dear God, anything
but that, please.

A nudge on my shoulder brought me out of my panic attack.
Annie was on her feet.

"Earth to McCarty. I'm up."

A curly-haired woman in pink scrubs led us through a door
into a small lab. I stood back and watched in distress as the woman
drew blood samples from the port Dr. Furman had surgically
inserted just below Annie's left collar bone. My knees grew weak
when Annie winced during the procedure.

I had to look away.

Great, I'm such a freaking wimp, I can't even watch Annie
get her blood drawn
.

Filled with shame at my weakness, I silently followed the
technician and Annie to a second waiting area. We took our seats on
one side of a three-walled room. Across from us sat a man who didn't
look much older than me. He was tapping away on his phone and I
couldn't help but wonder about him. What kind of cancer did he
have? Was he with someone or was he by himself? Was his stomach
doing backflips and barrel rolls like mine was?

I flipped open my notebook and immersed myself in my
notes to try to pull myself together. I must have achieved my goal
because I didn't hear Annie's name when it was called. In fact, it
wasn't until Annie bumped me on the shoulder that I realized she
was standing and waiting for me to follow her and a woman who I
assumed was Dr. Hill.

The doctor gave me a little smile and a nod before guiding
us into an exam room. After some preliminary tasks, she performed a
physical exam of Annie's breasts. "I want to get an initial sense of the
size of the tumors."

When she was finished noting the size and feel of the
tumors, she straightened her glasses. "Here are my thoughts. I
recommend eight rounds of chemotherapy, beginning today. The
treatments will be spaced two weeks apart, so after today you'll
return for your next treatment in two weeks. I want to start you with
a cocktail of adriomycin and cytoxin, or AC for short. You'll receive
four treatments of the AC."

I scribbled furiously, not understanding a thing, but not
wanting to miss anything either.

"After the fourth AC treatment, if everything is going well,
we'll switch you to Taxol for the final four treatments. I would also
like to give you an injection of a medicine called Neulasta with each
treatment. It will boost your platelet count, but has some side effects,
including bone pain. Overall, though, I'd highly recommend it. Now
I've talked enough. I'm sure you have questions. Fire away."

Annie remained silent, so I cleared my throat.

"Is there any way to anticipate how Annie will react to the
treatments?"

"No two people will react to the therapy in the exact same
way." She focused on Annie. "However, I can tell you that, in general,
you'll feel the effects of the treatment two to three days after each
infusion. You will likely feel tired. You may experience nausea. I can
prescribe an anti-nausea medication to combat that. "

Annie tugged the lock of hair by her ear. "I think that'd be a
good idea. Better to have it and not need it."

"I'll make sure you have a script for it before you leave
today. The good news is that with each day that passes after an
infusion, you'll probably feel a little better. In many cases, people feel
pretty normal the day or two leading up to their next round of
treatment. I must caution you though, that the treatments do have a
cumulative effect. As you progress, the bounce-back may take longer
and be less strong."

I stopped writing and looked at the doctor. "Any other side
effects or things we should be on the lookout for?"

"In general, you may tire easily, Ms. Wilson. While it's not a
concern now, you will still be undergoing treatment in May, so you
should limit your exposure to the sun. Your immune system will be
compromised as well, so try to avoid people who have a cold or a
virus."

Annie blew out a long breath. "What about the hair?"

"A very common and understandable question." The doctor
placed her hand on Annie's knee. "With this course of treatment, it's
probable that you will lose your hair."

"When?"

"Typically two to three weeks after treatment begins. You'll
begin to notice strands of hair in your brush or when you take a
shower around the time your second treatment takes place."

Annie sighed. "So much for getting that hair conditioner
endorsement back." Her lips curved up at the edges and she glanced
at me. "Hope a bald fiancé doesn't scare you too much."

"I think you'll look exotic, like that girl in the first
Star
Trek
movie."

"Oh lord, not
Star Trek
again." Annie bumped me
with her elbow. "Ready whenever you are, Doctor. Let's rock and
roll."

We followed Dr. Hill into a large open area with a dozen or
so beige, vinyl recliners spaced along the north and south walls and
the eastern portion of the room. A handful of hospital beds were
backed up against the western wall. Glass from floor to ceiling, the
wall allowed for an unobstructed view of the cancer survivors'
meditation park directly below. Four flat-screen televisions were
hung from the walls. Three were tuned to news channels and one
was showing a talk show I didn't recognize.

About half of the recliners and two of the beds were
occupied. Each occupant was connected to a thin, clear tube that ran
from a transparent bag hanging from an IV pole to either an arm or
chest area. Two elderly men sporting Indianapolis Colts stocking
caps were playing chess in a corner, seemingly oblivious to the
medicine dripping into them. A tiny woman wearing glasses had her
feet up and was knitting. A girl who couldn't have been more than
twelve or thirteen had ear buds in and was busy with what looked
like homework.

A tall, thin woman in royal blue scrubs approached us. Her
hazel eyes practically disappeared when she smiled. It reminded me
of Mom, and calmed my jittery nerves a touch.

"Hi, I'm Therese Downey and I'll be your nurse."

We introduced ourselves and followed Doctor Hill to the
recliner next to the girl. She exchanged a few words with Therese
before returning to her office. When the doctor was out of sight,
Annie took a deep breath and lowered herself into the recliner. I
spotted a little stool that I rolled next to Annie's chair and sat. While
we got settled, the nurse disappeared and returned a short time later
with a bag of the clear liquid that was supposed to make my North
Star better. The label on the bag identifying the concoction as toxic
sent my nerves jangling against each other again.

Therese filled us in on what Annie could and couldn't do
while she hung the bag on a pole and unwound the tubing. Annie was
welcome to read, watch TV, sleep—whatever she wanted to do. If she
needed to use the restroom, the pole was on wheels, so she could
take the pole with her.

"And if you get hungry, by all means, eat. There's a café
downstairs. You could send your friend here on a lunch run."

Annie glanced at me and frowned. "I don't know. He might
get lost and I'm in no condition to rescue him." My girl still had her
feisty spirit.
Yes!

The nurse patted Annie's arm. "That's all right. I'll give him a
map and highlight the most direct route in bright orange."

"Oh, I think we're going to get along famously, Therese. And
please call me Annie." Any further comment was cut off when
Therese inserted a needle into Annie's port and the medicine started
flowing.

"You're all set, Annie. I'll be around to check on you in a
bit."

"How long will this take?" she said.

"If you don't have any problems, three hours or so."

Three hours
? I dropped my backpack at my feet,
figuring I might as well get comfortable.

Therese turned away to check on the girl next to us. I was
digging the book Annie had brought out of my backpack when our
neighbor took in a sharp breath. I straightened up. The girl was
staring at Annie with wide eyes and an open mouth. She pulled her
ear buds out and dropped her pencil in her book.

Annie glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, then
turned toward the girl. "Hi."

"Um, hi. I'm sorry. For a minute, I thought you were
someone else. You look like someone famous."

"Really? Who might that be?"

"There's this singer I totally adore. Her name's Cassandra
Lawrence. Have you ever heard of her?"

Annie's mouth curved up just a touch on one end. "I have.
What's your name, hon?"

"Anastasia, but most people call me Staci."

"Well Staci, my name's Annie, but most people call me
Cassandra."

Staci's eyebrows creased while she puzzled out Annie's
introduction. She cocked her head to the side and gave me a
once-over. "Do you know anything about bicycles? I know Cassandra's
hooked up with some guy from around here that's supposed to be
into bikes."

"He knows a thing or two about bikes, Staci. But don't let
him hear that." Annie turned to me and winked. "I think I'm getting
hungry. Would you mind getting me something while Staci and I
visit?"

I returned with a couple of sub sandwiches to find Annie
and Staci in the middle of an animated conversation about
The
Hunger Games.
Evidently there was a disagreement about who
was the better choice of boyfriend for Katniss. Annie was a fan of
Peeta. Staci insisted Gale would have been better because Peeta was
too wimpy for her.

Their conversation had shifted from books to movies when
a short woman with her hair in a braid joined us.

"Mom, this is my new friend Annie. She has breast cancer.
We're going to be chemo buddies."

The woman's eyes grew wide while her cheeks turned
bright red. "Hello Annie, I'm Cara."

"You have a wonderful daughter, Cara. It's a pleasure to
meet you." Annie extended her hand. While the three ladies chatted,
Therese returned and confirmed Staci's treatment was complete.
Staci dumped her school work into a backpack while Therese
unhooked her.

"See you in two weeks Cas— I mean Annie. Pinkie promise."
Annie and Staci wrapped their little fingers together and grinned at
each other.

"Stay strong, sista. See you then."

Annie and I watched Staci and her mother make their exit.
Once they were gone from our sight, Annie took my hand. "She's got
a childhood form of leukemia. She's only fourteen. Today was her
second round of treatment." With a long sigh, she opened her book
and sank into her chair.

A little while later, Therese returned with a large syringe
that she told us contained the Cytoxin. She inserted it into Annie's IV
tube and spent the next half hour or so chatting with Annie while she
infused the bright red medicine. Shortly after the Cytoxin was
infused, chemo round one was complete. At Annie's request, the desk
clerk scheduled the start time for her next treatment to coincide with
Staci's.

It was a quiet drive home. I was afraid of saying the wrong
thing, so instead I said nothing. Annie had leaned the seat back and
closed her eyes, so it was just as well, I suppose.

When we got home, Annie went straight to her Alienware
laptop. "Time to fill the world in on Cassandra's condition. You'll be a
dear and let Samantha know I'll have a statement for her tonight,
yes?"