We arrived at the hospital at 5:20 Monday evening. I wanted to run away, to push Darry out of the driver's seat and hit the gas pedal as hard as I could. I wanted to be anywhere but there, but I didn't say a word. I didn't want to be the whiny little kid who won't stop complaining. I wasn't looking forward to being stuck in the hospital overnight, or to the IVs, but as we made our way through the corridors to the oncology wing I did my best to stay positive. I tried to tell myself that I'd probably feel better, being hooked up to IVs. They'd give me fluids so I wouldn't have to eat anymore, and maybe I'd stop feeling like I was going to throw up all the time.
When we got to the nurse's station they showed us to my room and I climbed out of the wheelchair and onto the bed. I was actually feeling better than I had the whole week, but I was still tired and didn't feel up to walking. I'm not sure that Darry would've let walk me if I'd tried, anyway. There was an extra cot in the room; Darry had called the hospital and asked about him and Ponyboy staying overnight. The extra bed almost made it feel like I was staying in a hotel or something and I tried convincing myself that was true.
"Hello, Soda," Dr. Sheldon said, coming into the room.
"Hey, doc," I returned, trying to smile.
Dr. Sheldon talked to us as he got things ready. "Everything's all set up for you to stay here overnight," he said to Darry and Pony. "But I don't want more than two people here outside of visiting hours. Soda needs to rest. If you need to switch over sleeping shifts or something, I understand, but don't loiter." Darry nodded and I swallowed, the hotel illusion crashing down. Dr. Sheldon started hooking up the IV so he could put it in me. I tensed up at the sight. I'd talked myself into staying calm, but I couldn't make my body relax.
Dr. Sheldon took my left hand and looked at me, checking to see if I was ready. I hadn't exactly given him the best impression last time he'd tried this. I nodded and he poked the needle in. I couldn't watch, so I looked at the wall instead. "It's time for the chemo, now," he told me gently. I didn't have to be told what to do anymore. I turned over on my side and lifted my shirt up. As always, I took the hands Darry and Pony offered me and as always, I held on tight when the pain came.
When he was done, Dr. Sheldon left the room and I lay on the bed, not moving. Somehow, I had the idea in my head that if I didn't move, the symptoms wouldn't start. It made no sense, but once the idea was there, I couldn't help but try it out. The sad thing was, I was disappointed when it didn't work. When I started shivering, Darry got the blankets the hospital had supplied and the ones we'd brought from home and put them over me. The pain in my bones didn't take long to start; that was followed by the nausea and finally by the headache. I clawed at the bed sheets, trying to relieve the pain. Darry was quick to give me my meds, but they always took a couple of minutes to work.
After a few hours I thought I had things under control when something new happened. I was getting sore from lying on my side so much; I shifted myself around so I was on my back. It was one of the times when I wasn't cold and it was easier to move without ten tons of blankets on top of me. When I'd repositioned myself, I started to realize that something wasn't right. My chest felt tight and it was getting tighter. It was starting to get hard to breathe and I gasped, trying to take in a deep breath. This alerted Darry and Pony, who'd both been starting to look tired. "What's wrong, Soda?" Darry asked, confusion and worry in his eyes.
I didn't answer him; I just gasped for another breath. I couldn't get enough air in and I was starting to panic. I saw Darry punch the call button a few times, then he ran out of the room when no one came right away. Pony moved so he was right next to me and took hold of my hand. "It's okay, Soda. Dr. Sheldon told us this might happen." Well, no one thought to tell me! I felt like it was getting even more difficult to take a breath and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't get enough air. I met Pony's eyes, terrified. I could see his own fear barely restrained, but he kept calm, and I latched onto that feeling, trying to steal some of it for myself.
Darry came running back into the room with Dr. Sheldon and a nurse right behind him. "I need you to stay calm, Soda," Dr. Sheldon said, starting to examine me. I knew he was right, but it wasn't easy to do when I felt like I was being strangled to death. I felt something being shoved onto my face and I realized they'd brought an oxygen machine with them. I sucked at the air, breathing it in greedily. My chest still hurt, but I started to relax, relieved to find breathing easier. Dr. Sheldon kept examining me, taking my blood pressure and lifting up my shirt to use his stethoscope.
"Is he okay?" Darry asked. I looked over at him and found him watching me anxiously. I moved mine and Pony's hands a bit, reaching out for Darry. He wrapped his hand over ours, holding them tight. I wanted to tell him I was okay now, but I couldn't talk with the oxygen mask on and I was afraid to take it off.
"He should be fine," Dr. Sheldon answered. "I want to take him for some tests, just to make sure there aren't any serious problems we need to be aware of. It's likely muscle fatigue, caused by the leukemia, but breathing difficulties are sometimes a sign of heart problems." I looked over at him sharply. "Relax, Soda," he said. "I don't think it's your heart. I'm just doing the tests to be sure." I nodded, but I didn't feel much better. His words were starting to sink in and I realized that even if it wasn't my heart, muscle fatigue didn't sound much better. What would happen if my muscles stopped working completely?
"Do you think you can breathe without the oxygen mask now?" Dr. Sheldon asked. My chest had started to relax, so I nodded. He took the mask off and I took a few experimental breaths. It felt like I'd been running on a hot, sticky summer day, but it wasn't as difficult to breathe as before. "I need to take you downstairs for the tests now, alright Soda? You'll be back in a couple hours," he added, seeing me glance towards Darry and Pony. I wanted them with me, but I was sure that wasn't allowed. I gave their hands a squeeze, then let go. The nurse had left to get a wheelchair; when she came back, Darry helped me into it and I let myself be wheeled out of the room, leaving my brothers behind.
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I sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair, sipping coffee to stay awake. It was getting close to midnight and Soda had been gone for a little over two hours. Pony had gone to sleep on the cot a while ago, but only after he'd made me promise to wake him up when Soda returned. I was glad he was resting, but it was unsettling to be alone with my thoughts and nothing to do. My mind kept replaying the image of Soda lying on the bed, scared, struggling to breathe. My older brother instincts were operating on overdrive. I'd already tried reading, writing, doodling—just about anything I could think of to take my mind off of things, but nothing worked. Just when I thought I was gonna go crazy if something didn't distract me soon, Soda came back into the room with Dr. Sheldon. Soda's body temperature was fluctuating again and he was shivering. Dr. Sheldon was closer to him and helped him onto the bed. As soon as he was settled, I covered him up with blankets.
I shook Ponyboy awake, who realized what was going on and sat up quickly, then I turned to Dr. Sheldon expectantly. "Soda's heart seems to be fine. As far as we can tell, the problem is the muscles of his lungs. With everything his body had gone through, they're starting to weaken."
"Will he need oxygen each time this happens?" Pony asked. I knew he was thinking about Soda having to stay in the hospital.
"We'll have to wait and see. I've already explained this to Soda," he said, nodding towards Soda who was curled up trying to keep warm. "The next time he has trouble breathing, we'll have the oxygen ready, but we won't use it unless we have to. He'll need to do his best to stay calm and breathe as normally as possible. Now that he's prepared for it, he should find it easier to stay calm." I felt guilt gnaw at me. I knew this might happen; I should've told Soda about it so he wouldn't have been caught so off guard.
While we were talking, Soda had stopped shivering and had tossed the blankets off. His eyes were closed, but he opened them when I touched his cheek with the back of my hand. His skin was burning and I pulled my hand back quickly. When I met his eyes, he was only half focusing on me. Usually a nurse took his temperature, but since Dr. Sheldon was here anyway, he did it. His face darkened when he read the thermometer.
"What is it?" I asked nervously.
"104.1," he answered. I heard a gasp from beside me and looked over to see Pony staring horrified at our brother. Even if Soda was healthy, that high of a temperature would be cause for concern. "I'll start him on medications to reduce the fever," Dr. Sheldon said, making notes on Soda's chart, "and I'll put him on antibiotics again just in case. Also, I'll have the nurse bring you some cool cloths—" he stopped short at the sound of Soda getting sick.
I hadn't heard him move and when I looked over to him I saw he'd thrown up on his bed. It wasn't much, just a bit of liquid, but he was visibly upset about it. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I—I didn't mean to."
I reached over and rubbed his shoulder. "It's okay, Soda. We'll get this fixed, don't worry." He nodded, but a few tears slipped down his cheeks.
"I'll get someone in to change the sheets, too," Dr. Sheldon said gently, leaving the room. He was only gone a couple of minutes before coming back with an IV and a nurse, who was carrying new sheets. Dr. Sheldon hooked up the new IV and then I carefully picked Soda up so the nurse could fix his bed. Pony watched everything, worry etched on his face. I cradled Soda in my arms, feeling once again how light he was. He started to shiver and my stomach dropped; his fever was going to spike again.
"I'm cold, Darry," he mumbled.
"I know, Pepsi-Cola. You'll be warm soon." Too warm, I added to myself.
Dr. Sheldon had been making more notes before he left the room and came over to me. "We'll check his temperature every half hour. Page someone when his chills stop, or if he loses consciousness. Keep the blankets off him—he might feel cold, but his temperature is dangerously high." I nodded, agreeing with him. I'd rather see Soda cold than risk making his fever worse than it would already be.
Dr. Sheldon left the room and when the nurse had finished I gently lay Soda back on the bed. She had left damp cloths and I put one on Soda's forehead. He flinched and moved his head to the side, trying to throw it off. "I'm cold, Dare, not hot." His voice was slurred and I'm not sure if he completely knew what was going on.
Pony sat on the edge of the bed and took another cloth, placing it on Soda's neck. We both tried to ignore our brother's weak protests, but it wasn't easy. He kept trying to push the cloths off and we had to hold his hands down to stop him. Finally he stopped shivering and lay completely still. I panicked, thinking that he'd passed out, and I wasn't sure what that would mean. "Soda?" I shook him, trying to be gentle. He opened his eyes and looked at me groggily. I sighed in relief and I heard Pony do the same beside me. I pressed the call button and waited impatiently. A nurse had come in to take his temperature once and it had been the same as before, but I was sure it had gone up now.
The same nurse came and a minute later, I was proved right. "105.3" she told us. Oh God. What if it got any higher? She adjusted the speed of one of Soda's IVs, wrote on his chart, and left the room. Pony and I silently kept moving the cool cloths around Soda's skin, occasionally remoistening them in the bathroom. He kept still, only moving his head sometimes and groaning a little. His skin burned when I touched it.
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"C'mon, Pony!" Soda called from somewhere above me. I looked down at the ground. I was already pretty far up the tree, but Soda was way higher than me. I looked up, trying to see him, but all I saw was leaves and branches.
"Don't bother, Soda. He ain't gonna come up this far." Steve's voice floated down to me and I glowered up in its direction. He hadn't wanted me coming along to the park to start with, but Soda had insisted. He was starting junior high in a couple weeks and I was scared I'd hardly see him anymore. So, I followed him and Steve to the park and when they'd wanted to climb the biggest tree there, I'd gone up after them. Now I was halfway up, afraid to go any further. I couldn't stand Steve's taunting though, and summoning my courage, I reached up and grabbed the next branch.
Pulling myself up one branch at a time, I slowly heard Soda's and Steve's voices grow closer. I could see one of their shoes when I felt the branch I was standing on snap beneath me. I reached out, trying to grab anything I could and just felt my fingertips brush the branch above me, then I was falling. The ground flew towards me and I screamed, terrified. "Pony!" I heard Soda call. I landed on my left arm and a loud CRACK resonated in my ears, followed by agonizing pain.
For a minute, all I could focus on was the pain and I felt tears welling in my eyes. I blinked, trying to will them away. I heard noise above me and I looked up to see Soda jump down from one of the bottom branches, followed by Steve. "You okay, Pone?" Soda asked with concern, kneeling next to me. I met his worried eyes and felt the tears in my own eyes spill over. He turned to his best friend. "Steve, can you go get my dad?" Steve ran off and Soda turned back to me. "Can you sit up, Pony?" I didn't think I could, but I nodded anyway. I didn't want Soda to think I wasn't tough. He put an arm under me to help me up, but as soon as he touched my left arm, fresh pain shot up it and I cried out. "I think your arm is broken, Ponyboy," Soda said quietly.
"It hurts, Soda," I sobbed, more tears running down my cheeks despite my efforts to stop them. I wanted to look tough, but I couldn't do it.
"I know, Pone," he soothed softly. "Dad'll be here in a few minutes and we'll get you to the hospital. They'll fix ya up." He paused and gently wiped some of the tears off my face. "I'm sorry I made you climb the tree, Pony," he whispered, looking down.
"You didn't make me. I wanted to," I insisted.
"No, you didn't. I could see it in your face when we started. I knew you didn't want to, and I knew you'd follow me, but I went up anyway. It's my fault you fell." He sounded so sad and I hated it when Soda was upset.
"It's not your fault," I told him. "Please don't be sad, Soda." He met my eyes again and nodded, smiling a little.
"Okay, Pony. Thanks," he added. My arm still hurt and I wanted Dad to hurry up. Soda held my good hand and talked to me while we waited. He started telling me a funny story about Two-Bit bugging a dog so much he got chased down the street, and by the time Steve got back with Dad I was even laughing a little.
As I sat on Soda's hospital bed trying to bring down his temperature, I thought about that day in the park. Sods had come with me and Dad to the hospital and had even tried to come in the X-ray room with me, but the doctors had kicked him out. On our way home, he'd insisted on buying me ice cream with his own money. He'd begged Dad to stop at the Dairy Queen and had refused all of Dad's offers to pay.
I wished I could buy Soda ice cream to make him feel better now. Whenever I touched his bare skin it felt like it was on fire. Sometimes he opened his eyes and looked at us, but they were hazy and unfocused. The worst was when he tried to push the cloths off. His body was telling him he was cold and he was too out of it to understand that he was actually burning up. When we held down his hands to stop him, he would whimper a little and struggle. "C'mon, Soda, you can do this," Darry whispered from the chair beside me. I could tell he was just as worried as I was. If Soda's fever spiked again it could kill him.
For over an hour we moved the cool cloths around Soda's body, hoping they would do some good. The nurse came in twice to take his temperature and each time we were thankful to find it hadn't gotten any higher. I was thinking about the day Soda had lost Mickey when Darry spoke up. "I think his fever's breaking." I looked at Soda and saw a sheen of sweat covering his face. I touched his cheek; it was still warm, but it wasn't burning anymore. I glanced at Darry and saw my relief mirrored in his eyes. Soda had made it through the night. Now he just had to keep it up.
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