Thanks again to everyone for all the great reviews! They keep me motivated to continue writing. :) To answer daydreambeliever's question, Dr. Sheldon's name is a total coincidence. I didn't even realize that was Bob's last name until it was pointed out to me. I had actually planned for a lot more to happen in this chapter, but it took on a life of its own at the end. Two-Bit will be showing up, it just hasn't quite worked out yet. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!
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I felt like I had just been punched in the gut. Soda had leukemia? I looked at Dr. Woods, hoping he would start laughing and tell us it had all been a joke, that Soda was really fine and just needed a couple weeks of rest, but I felt my hopes fade when I saw that the look on his face was deadly serious. I looked at my brothers; Soda looked completely shell shocked, like he couldn't quite understand what he was being told. Pony had turned pale and looked like he might be sick. "Are you sure?" I asked. Maybe there was another possibility; maybe Soda had something that looked like leukemia but wasn't really.
"I'm afraid so," Dr. Woods answered. "I'm sorry I can't give you better news. However, Dr. Sheldon here is one of the country's leading oncologists, so you couldn't be in better hands."
I turned to Dr. Sheldon. "So, what can we do? How do we fight this?" I'd be damned if I let Soda go without giving it everything I could.
"I won't lie to you," he started. "The odds aren't good. The survival rate for leukemia is only five percent. However, we're making progress in research all the time. The most important thing is to not give up hope; five percent is low, but it's not zero." I felt my stomach drop to my feet. Five percent? No matter how good this guy was, that didn't give us much chance. I knew he was right, though. We couldn't give up hope; it would kill all of us, not just Soda. "The first thing I'm going to do is run some tests tonight, then on Monday we'll start chemotherapy. We'll do that for two weeks, then give your body a chance to rest. I'd like you to stay in the hospital during the first round of chemo so we can see how you react to it. It'll also give your brothers a chance to learn how to take care of you while you're undergoing treatment. It's going to be rough, Soda, but you have your brothers for support. Soda just nodded, still not saying anything. What do you say when someone tells you you're probably gonna die?
"What tests are you doing tonight?" I asked.
"I'll do two tests tonight. The first is a bone marrow biopsy. I'll put a needle into your hip, Soda, to get a sample of your bone marrow. Second, I'll have to do a lumbar puncture to collect some of your cerebrospinal fluid. I'll need you to sign the consent forms," he added, looking at me. "Both of these procedures will let us know how far the cancer has spread so that we can treat you more effectively."
"What's a lumbar puncture?" Pony asked. I glanced over at him. He looked scared, but his colour had come back.
"I'll have Soda lie on his side while I use a needle to draw fluid from his spine. It's a fairly common procedure, so you don't need to worry about it."
Soda finally spoke up. "Can I have a couple minutes? I need to use the bathroom." His voice sounded flat and he still looked stunned.
"Of course," Dr. Sheldon said in a kind voice. "I'll get the consent forms for your brother to sign while we wait."
Soda got off the bed and walked out of our curtained off area, leaving his shoes behind. I thought about following him to make sure he was alright, but I decided to give him a few minutes alone. Pony started to stand up, but I put my hand on his arm to stop him. He seemed to understand and he sat back down. While Dr. Sheldon went to get the forms, I looked over at Pony. "He's going to be okay, Pone. We're going to fight this, and Soda's going to make it through."
Pony looked at me doubtfully. "But Dar, the doctor said only five--"
I cut him off quickly. "I know what the doctor said, but there's no reason why Soda won't be one of the five percent. Look Pony, Soda needs us to be positive right now. It doesn't matter how worried we are, we need to be there for him." Pony didn't say anything more, but I don't think I made him feel any better.
Dr. Sheldon came back with the forms for me to sign and started going over them with me. I guess there were some complications with the lumbar puncture that could happen, but he said they weren't very common. By the time we'd finished Soda had been gone for ten minutes and I was starting to get worried. He'd been hit with a lot tonight and I wasn't sure he knew how to deal with it. Ponyboy looked at the clock, then at me. I sighed. "Yeah, I know. I'm gonna go look for him."
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I got outta that room as fast as I could. I know Darry was worried about me, but right then I didn't care. I felt like I was gonna suffocate if I stayed there any longer listening to the doctor. There was a nurse in the hall and I asked her where the bathroom was. I barely heard her directions, but somehow I managed to follow them and I found myself inside a bathroom stall leaning over the toilet and getting sick. After a couple minutes I leaned my head back against the stall wall, sweating and panting. I couldn't believe what was happening. I couldn't be sick. Not that sick. I mean, I didn't feel great, but I didn't feel like I was dying! I didn't want to die! I was only seventeen. Dally was seventeen when he died and Johnny was sixteen, so I guess there's no reason why I couldn't die. And now this doctor wanted to do all these tests on me and stick me with a bunch of needles. I tensed up at that thought. I know I'm a greaser and I'm tough and everything, but I really hated needles. With a punch you didn't really know when it was coming and there was always adrenaline in a fight, so sometimes you didn't even feel the pain till later. But with needles, you had to just sit there and wait for them. I didn't know much about chemo, but I knew it made you sick and made you lose your hair. I was so proud of my hair and I already felt sick; I didn't want to feel worse.
All these thoughts were going through my head so fast I thought I was gonna pass out. I don't know how long I sat on that bathroom floor, but it must have been a while because eventually Darry came looking for me. He came into the room and started calling for me. "Soda? Soda, you in here?" I didn't say anything. I thought that maybe if I just stayed where I was everything would go away. Maybe I would fall asleep and when I woke up I would be home in bed and it would have all been a bad dream. Darry figured out I was there, though, and stopped outside my stall. "Soda, can I come in?"
No matter how much I wanted to pretend none of this was happening, I knew there was no point. I took a deep breath, then reached up and unlocked the stall door. Darry pushed it open and as I looked up into his worried face, I felt any control I had left slip away and I started sobbing. He came into the stall, locking it behind him, and sat down on the floor beside me. He wrapped his arms around me and started rubbing my shoulders and back. I buried my head in chest and cried harder. I didn't care if I was a greaser; no one was here, anyway, so what difference did it make if I cried? Darry just kept rubbing me, trying to make me feel better. When I'd calmed down a bit, I looked up at him. "I don't want to die, Darry," I whispered. "I don't want to die." I buried my head back into his chest even though I'd mostly stopped crying by now. I just wanted the whole world to go away, and right now, Darry could do that for me.
"It's going to be okay, Soda," Darry soothed. "We're going to get through this, you'll see. You're going to fight it. Me and Pony and the gang'll be there to help you and you're going to be okay."
I knew he didn't know that for sure, but right then I let myself believe him. Darry was always right. He had to be right this time, too. I pulled back from him and took a big breath. "Okay, let's go back."
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Well, how was it? Too dramatic, or did it work?