"I told you," I smile fondly, slinging my bag over my shoulder and grabbing my water bottle from the table, filled up by Callum.
He easily grabs the two large boxes from the corner and then still reaches for my tote bag, slinging it over his shoulder and ignoring my protests. We remain in comfortable silence until we get to his truck. Callum places the boxes in the back before opening up my side for me, as he normally does, and makes sure I'm settled before shutting the door. I smile at him in thanks, and he gives me a toothy grin in return.
And,wow, that smile has become one of my favorite sights in the world lately.
Probably my favorite, if we're being honest.
All these little things he does, these small actions that just seem instinctive to him, mean the absolute world to me. I've always been independent, taking care of myself, even when I was in relationships. I was hyper-aware of the need to take care of myself, but I also wanted to care for and go the extra mile for those who mattered to me.
Even when it's inconvenient or complicated, you still do the work, because to me, that's how you show love.
Callum pulls up to the infusion center to drop me off, idling at the curb before coming around the side to help me out. Myhand in his warm one sends a pleasant current through me, and I smile at him as he hands me my tote bag.
"I'll head to the donation center now. I'll be here to pick you up when you're done."
I thank him, slinging the bag over my shoulder and walking toward the front door, but then I stop and turn back. He's circling the car to get into the driver's seat when I call out, "Callum?"
He stops and looks over, eyebrows raised in question.
"You're... you're one of my best friends."
His entire face softens, and his grin splits even wider. I can't help but return his smile just as fiercely, knowing it borders on cheesy.
"You're one of my best friends, too, Sophie."
???
I'm not okay.
Nurse Patti is excellent as always, calm, comforting, and caring. When I got here, she asked me about any side effects I was feeling, and I told her about feeling cold and experiencing nausea. I gingerly admitted to the hair falling out, feeling silly for caring so much about that, especially since other patients in this center are completely hairless and possibly worse off than I am with their diagnosis.
But Patti wouldn't allow that.
"It's relative, and it's heartbreaking. Your hair is a part of you, and this illness is stealing it. That fucking sucks," Patti always speaks plainly, and it makes me laugh. "Your feelings are valid, my girl. Don't feel bad for feeling them."
I settled into my deceptively comfy recliner, took out my e-reader, and tried to just fall into a book, but after twentyminutes, I started feeling nauseous. I sipped the ginger ale that Patti brought me, she seemed to sense that I was a little green.
Then I started coughing, that cough that precedes vomit, and Patti moved as fast as lightning, putting the emesis bag under my chin right before I emptied my stomach into it.
"It's okay," Patti soothes me, and it makes tears well up in my eyes. "This happens more than you know. Just get it all out."
I'm not okay.
They increase the anti-nausea medication in my IV, which helps a bit, and I spend the rest of the time with a cool, wet compress on my head. My hat is in my tote bag now, and I’m tightly bundled in my blanket, trying to get some rest. They bring me some ice chips and peppermints, which help to soothe my stomach.
Soon enough, I'm done with treatment number two. Patti gently unhooks me from the IV and helps me out of the chair.
"If the nausea persists, we'll schedule an appointment with your oncologist. He just might have to raise your meds a little," Patti assures me and gently places my hat back on my head, adjusting my hair with a smile. "This sucks, but it is very normal."
I nod, and she hands me my tote bag, "Thank you, Patti."
"Anytime. We'll see you in two weeks. Call your doctor if something feels off, okay?"
I nod and walk to the front, weakly waving to the girls at the front desk who softly wish me well and that they'll see me in two weeks.
Two down, four to go...
I don't even need to look at my phone, my body seems to just know that he'shere, and as soon as I walk outside, I see Callum leaning against his truck.
