Part One Hundred And Fifty One
It was finally Friday the seventeenth of March, St. Patrick's Day, and time for George's first session of chemotherapy. She had been dreading this day, knowing that it was a necessary part of her treatment, but dreading it nonetheless. Her session would take the whole of Friday afternoon, giving her the weekend in which to recover from it. George had been working from home for the last week or so, trying to take her return to her normal duties one step at a time. She still didn't feel entirely comfortable with the thought of returning to her office, even though to look at her, no one could honestly tell that one of her breasts was false. She was also still experiencing great lapses of mental as well as physical energy, something which she supposed would continue until all this was finally over. Jo was coming with her to the hospital during her lunch break, as neither her nor John wanted George to have to go there alone. John would come to pick her up at around five, and George was heartily grateful for their ongoing support.
When they arrived at The Haddlington, they walked upstairs to the ward where George had stayed for those few interminable days. "I hate coming back here," George said quietly to Jo as they walked towards the nurses' station. "I know," Jo replied sympathetically. "But it's better than the NHS any day." George was forced to agree with this, knowing that if she'd had to share a room with anyone, she would have gone even more crazy than she already had. Tricia was there as usual, and she led them through to a room George hadn't seen before. "All that's really going to happen today," She explained. "Is that I'll connect you up to a drip, which contains a combination of drugs that will fight the remaining cancer cells left in your body. You're going to get very bored, so I hope you've brought something to read." "A fairly urgent case file as it happens," George replied with a self-deprecating smile. "Well, that wasn't quite what I had in mind," Tricia said ruefully. "And you might find that it becomes harder and harder to concentrate on something so dull and tedious." As she began to assemble everything she would need, Tricia added, "Ric will pop in to see you some time this afternoon, and I'll keep looking in just to make sure you're all right." "Just how dreadful am I going to feel after this?" George asked with some concern. "The most likely outcome," Tricia said, trying to soften the blow slightly. "Is that it'll make you very sick, but if it does, we can give you something to help with that." "Marvellous," George replied with a theatrical groan. "Just what I wanted at the end of a Friday afternoon." When Tricia had George all hooked up and had left her to it, Jo said that she would have to go. "I'm before our lord and master this afternoon, so I'd better not be late." "Oh well, if you do anything that should make him want to bang you up," George said with a smile, trying to cheer herself up if nothing else. "Tell him that he'll get no sex from me for a week." Jo grinned, briefly wondering if that threat would hold any significant weight with such a punishment. Putting her arms round George and kissing her gently, she said, "I'll see you later." "I'll look forward to it," George replied softly, meaning every word.
When Jo left the room, she found that Ric and Zubin had joined Tricia at the desk, and were going over some patient files. "Jo," Zubin said with a smile. "It's good to see you." "I'll look in on George in a little while," Ric told her. "Though while I think about it, there is something that we need to discuss with you." "Of course," Jo said, glancing at her watch. "Though I do have to be back in court by two." "It shouldn't take long," Ric assured her. "It's about some of the medication George may need following her sessions of chemo." "Let me guess," Jo said in a manner of bleak remembrance. "Anti-sickness medication and possible pain relief, if it gets that far." "Let's not cross that particular bridge till we come to it," Ric told her quietly. "You sound as though you're talking from experience," Zubin said gently. "I nursed my husband through the final stages of cancer nearly twenty years ago," Jo told them succinctly. "So yes, I have been here before in a manner of speaking." "Well, it's about the anti-emetic that she may need to take if she finds it impossible to keep oral medication down, which believe me does happen. Either you or the Judge, needs to be able to administer an intra-muscular injection, should that become necessary, otherwise George will be forced to return to hospital, something I should imagine she would rather avoid." "Well, I have done that before," Jo told them. "Though not for some considerable time." "Would you be prepared to do it again?" Zubin asked, realising that this may resurrect some very painful memories for Jo. "If it will help George get through this, then yes, of course I will," Jo said with nothing but absolute certainty in her tone. "Then you must practice," Ric informed her. "Do you still do it on oranges?" Jo asked with a slight smile at the incongruity of such an act. "It's the best thing there is," Zubin said forthrightly. "An orange bears the closest resemblance to the tension of human skin." "Tricia, as Zubin and I are due in theatre at least five minutes ago, please could you make sure that Mrs. Mills can still adequately administer an injection?" "Leave it with me," Tricia replied, having until then been on the edge of the conversation. When Jo finally left to return to court a little while later, she knew without a doubt that should George require such a service from her, she would be more than capable of performing it.
When John came to pick her up later that afternoon, George felt exhausted, sick, and wanted to do nothing more than to go home and go straight to bed. "How do you feel?" John asked her when Tricia showed him into the room. "Or is that a particularly stupid question?" "I'll forgive you for it just this once," George said tiredly. As John tucked her arm through his and led the way towards the outside, Tricia stopped them and handed John a bag of medication. "Everything you might need is in there," She informed George. "Including the injections you might find necessary and that we talked about earlier." When John raised his eyebrows at this, George said, "I'll explain it to you later." "The injections must be kept in the fridge," Tricia also told her. "Because they don't last for ever."
When they reached the car park, George said, "I'm afraid that if you don't want me to throw up on the way home, I'm going to have to smoke in your car, which I know is against every principle you possess." "I'm sure I can open the window," he said, opening the passenger door for her and putting the bag of medications on her lap. When he'd started the engine and she had lit up a cigarette, she asked, "Would you mind if we went back to yours instead of mine? I feel as though I've seen far too much of that house in the last couple of weeks." "Sure," He said, turning out into the stream of Friday night traffic. "I'll call Jo and let her know."