It had been three weeks after the dreaded diagnosis and two days after a Chemo treatment.
Q was in his spare room, holding his best friend into a setting position on the guest bed, while he vomitted uncontrollably.
Joe had been vomitting almost constantly for what seemed like hours. There was hardly anything in his stomach to come out to begin with and now there was nothing at all, just flem and stomach acid. But, it was not letting up at all and Q felt it was time to go to the Emergency room.
"Just hold on, pal." I'm right here and not going anywhere, but I'm going to lay you down for a second so I can call and see if Sal can pick us up and drive us to the hospital. I noticed earlier that my Jeep has a flat tire and it will be easier for Sal to get us than fix the tire right now."
"No"
"Joe, I have to. You can't keep doing this. They'll just give us something to put in the port and I will bring you back here."
Q had already dialed the number and set Joe back up. He set at the head of the bed and leaned his friend against him, holding a small garbage can in front of him. He winced as he noticed just how much weight Joe had lost and at how weak he had become. Joe could not walk to the bathroom today, he did not have the strengh, and this broke Q's heart. A sudden and violent retching brought him back to immediate reality, as Joe's ever thinning body shook against his chest. He set the can off the bed, deciding not to worry about the mess, he'd have to change the bed anyhow .
"Just breathe, buddy. It's going to be okay". He massaged Joe's chest in a circular motion with his free hand, the contact always seemed to help sooth his friend and the retching stopped after a few seconds.
Sal answered on the second ring.
"Hey man, what's up? How's he doing?".
"He's still vomitting and is roasting with fever. Can you be here in about fifteen or twenty minutes? I'm going to clean him up and then I think we need to go to the hospital. There should be some kind nausea medicine they can give us to put in the port. He's probably dehydrated already."
Before the last word was out, the body against him again lurched violently as stomach acid, now mixed with a small amount of blood, streamed from Joe's mouth.
Q put his arm back on the frail chest and softly talked Joe through the attack.
"Oh geez. I'm headed out the door. Am I on speaker?"
"Yea, man"
"Joe, I'll be there in fifteen minutes, pal. Just hang tough. I'll see you guys in just a little bit".
Hanging up, Q slipped from behind Joe, holding him into a setting position. After stripping him, Q easily picked his best friend from the bed. It terrified him how easily he was able to lift and carry Joe. And Joe all allowing him to do so, unclothed especially,
only went to show how sick his friend really was. This man who he saw as his brother, known for his kindness and generousity, did not deserve to go through this pain. Joe had been through a lot, but yet he never let life get him down or alter his spirit and friendly personality, or his humor. He was there for everyone, including Q. He looked down at the pain stricken face and silently vowed to get him through this.
"We're just going to wash you up some, buddy."
Joe only nodded against his chest. Helpless.
"Can you set on the toilet for a second while I run the tub?"
Another nod against this chest, so he set Joe down while running the bath water.
Ten minutes later Joe was cleaned and dressed. Q carried him downstairs and they set waiting for Sal.