"Hey guys, you ready to go?"
"No. I don't want to."
Sal studied his friend setting on the couch with two of his little dogs by his side, pain and heartache written all over his face. Big blue eyes, now brimmed red with fever, met his stare, pleading with him.
Q's tired voice broke the short silence that followed.
"Joe, you know we have to do this. I don't think they will keep you but if they do one of us will stay there with you. You won't be alone, bud."
By this time Sal had made his way to the couch, kneeling in front of Joe. He ran his hand over the soft fur of one of the dogs then moved his hand to Joe's knee and looked into the scared blue eyes.
"Listen to me, man. You need medicine to give you some relief, and hopefully that can be given to you in an IV or be given to us to put in your port, then we can go home. You are so tired, Joey, I can see that. You need something that will let you sleep and to settle your stomach. We are going and it's going to be okay. Like Q said, if they keep you one of us will stay there with you."
To himself Sal thought that someone would be himself, He looked over at Quinn and could see he probably got about as much sleep as Joe. He obviously was exhausted. Sal decided that Joe would be going home with him today or he'd be sleeping in the hospital beside Joe's bed, and Q would get some much needed rest.
"I don't want to die in the hospital or die alone."
The weak and terrified voice brought tears to Sal's eyes.
Quinn, who took Sal's entrance as an opportunity to close his eyes for a few minutes, jolted awake at the words.
Sal spoke first. Reaching from Joe's knee to his chin, turning his face to meet his own, making sure eye contact was made.
"Joey, don't think like that. You are not going to die. The Chemo is just strong pal, remember what the Dr said? He said this would happen. We'll get through it. But you aren't dying. Please don't let those thoughts go through your head."
"He's right, Joe, we're going to get through this. You are not dying, I know it must feel like it, but you aren't. We're not going to leave you though, so don't worry about that. If you have to stay in the hospital, I promise we will not leave you there alone."
"Thank you guys"
With those last words, Joe begin to retch again, this time bringing up nothing but a small amount of bright red blood.
Blood that Sal was sure was coming from a throat that must be rubbed raw by now.
"Okay, buddy, time to go. Don't you worry about it, I wouldn't want to be left alone either. It's okay, Joey. Now isn't the time to worry about pride or how tough you are or about what other people think. You can be afraid, bud. I'm afraid. Hell, I think we all are. But it's going to be okay."
"He's right on both account bud. I'm going to get the wheelchair. I'll be right back".
Minutes later all three men were in the car and twenty minutes later they were in the waiting room.
Sal was having a hot argument with the receptionist. Quinn, too tired to fight unless he had to and knowing Sal would handle it wheeled Joe to a corner to wait. He didn't go far enough away that he coldn't hear what was being said.
"Mr Vulcano, I understand your friend is sick. That's what Chemotheraphy does. He's going to be sick. Please bring him home."
"Hell no, I'm not bringing him home. He is dehydrated and puking up blood. He has been vomitting for hours straight and is so weak at this point that he cannot walk. We want to be seen. Please call his Cancer Dr. He said he would meet us here if needed."
"Listen sir, I don't care who you are. I don't care who any of you are. You will not get special treatment here because your friend is sick at his stomach.
I do not feel being seen is a requirment, bring him to Urgent care tomorrow."
Q had listened to enough.
"Just hang tight buddy, we're not going to take this shit.".
Seconds later he was beside Sal.
"Listen lady! I'm in no mood to put up with this shit. We are not asking for special treatment and don't expect it. All we want is help. He needs something for nausea and to help him rest. That's all. And we are not leaving until we get back there."
Both men heard the horrible retching behind them and rushed to Joe's side.
Quinn gently lifted his friend into his arms and carried him to the low desk, purposefully holding him over it, just mere feet from the receptionist.
Bright red blood spewed from Joe's mouth onto the slick wood desk.
Brown eyes met green ones as Brian silently pleaded for help.
He brought Joe back to his wheelchair with Sal following to comfort the ailing man and to make sure he did not choke on vomit or blood.
"Q looked back to the receptionist. Please ma'm help us. There's not even anyone else here right now, we don't want special treatment or to be put ahead of anyone else. I'm tired and so worried, I know you are tired. We are both grumpy. I didn't mean to come off as an asshole. But, please, he is so weak, he hasn't eaten in two days. He has vomitted untl there is nothing left but blood and stomach acid. He's literally almost too weak to hold his head up now. I will beg you if it will help.".