Thanks for the great reviews! Here's a nice long chapter for you.
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I woke up slowly, my exhausted body not ready to get up yet. It was Friday, so I'd worked a double shift the day before, then spent the night at the hospital again, only stopping at home long enough to have a quick shower and make some sandwiches. It was too expensive for me and Pony to keep eating in the cafeteria. Soda's nights had gotten progressively better during the week and the night before he hadn't had a fever at all. He still had his regular chemo symptoms, but nothing as scary as Monday. That night, he'd been so sick I'd really thought he might die.
Gradually, I realized it had been voices talking near me that had woke me up. Pony had insisted I sleep on the cot for the night since I had to work and I'd been tired enough to give in to him. I opened my eyes and climbed off the bed; I saw Dr. Sheldon talking quietly to Soda and Pony and I went over to join them. I squeezed Pony's shoulder and smiled at him, then greeted Soda. "Hey, little buddy. How're ya feeling this morning?"
"Not too bad," he replied, giving me a small smile. He looked pretty good actually, or at least compared to the rest of the week. His face was always pale and drawn, but this morning there was a bit of spark in his eyes.
I turned to Dr. Sheldon. "So, what's the news? Can we take him home today?" I saw Soda look anxiously at the doctor, hoping for good news.
"He's definitely improved during the week," Dr. Sheldon started, "and his body seems to have adjusted to the drugs. However, after the difficult night on Monday I would recommend one more night in the hospital." Soda looked crestfallen at this news. "It would just be a precaution though," Dr. Sheldon continued, noticing Soda's face, too. "It's not strictly necessary. I'll leave the decision up to you," he said, facing me.
Soda looked at me with pleading eyes. "I wanna go home, Darry," he said softly. I wanted more than anything to take him home, but Monday had really scared me and I had wondered a few times what would have happened if we hadn't been in the hospital. But then I remembered that Soda's symptoms had been less severe each night since then. Plus, we weren't too far from the hospital if he spiked a fever again. I looked to Pony, who shrugged back at me. He looked as unsure as I was. We both wanted Soda home, but neither of us wanted to jeopardize his health. Soda spoke up again. "Please Darry?" he begged. "Please can I go home?"
Soda looked so desperate that I couldn't say no to him. We would just have to watch him closely and hope nothing went wrong. "Alright, Pepsi. We'll go home."
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"Hey, buddy," I said, poking my head into my best friend's room and finding him awake. Darry was working, so I'd picked Soda and Pony up from the hospital earlier in the evening. Soda had stayed in the hospital for the day so he wouldn't have to make an extra trip back for his chemo treatment. It had been a pretty low key night and he'd mostly just slept. "Glad to be home?" I asked him, taking a seat in the chair.
"Yeah, it's great," he said, smiling. "It's so much more comfortable than the hospital. It's never really quiet there." He stretched and looked at the clock beside his bed. "Darry should be home soon."
I glanced at the clock and saw he was right; it was almost nine. Two-Bit wandered in and plopped himself on the end of the bed. He was helping out for the night since Ponyboy was babysitting again. "Heya, Sodapop. I see you finally decided to wake up!"
"Yeah, well, I wouldn't wanna miss seeing you," Soda joked.
"I was getting bored with just Steve, here. He ain't got much of a sense of adventure when it comes to cooking." Two-Bit grinned idiotically at this and I rolled my eyes. At least Soda wouldn't be bored.
"Just cause I think jellybean pie sounds disgusting don't mean I'm a bore. I just have more sense than you do."
"Jellybean pie?" Soda asked, glancing nervously at Two-Bit. "You didn't actually make it, did you?"
"No," he answered, giving me a mock glare. "Stevie here wouldn't let me. He said the smell of it might make you feel sick."
"Two-Bit, I think the smell of jellybean pie would make anyone feel sick," Soda laughed.
Two-Bit pretended to look hurt, then brightened. "What about JELLO pie?"
I sighed and shook my head. I honestly wasn't sure if he was serious or not. "Do ya need anything?" I asked Soda, trying to steer the conversation away from cooking.
He nodded. "Yeah, some entertainment. Can you guys help me to the living room?" He turned to Two-Bit with a devilish grin. "I think there's some JELLO mix in the cupboard." Two-Bit smiled and rubbed his hands together eagerly. I groaned, but put an arm around Soda to help him up anyway. I figured Darry would be home any minute and could put a stop to anything too disgusting.
We got down the hall and were a few steps from the couch when Soda's grip on me tightened. He gasped and I realized he was having trouble breathing again. I hadn't seen it happen yet, but I'd heard about it. "Steve," he gasped out, collapsing onto the couch when we reached it. I sat down next to him and Two-Bit sat on Soda's other side, all signs of joking gone.
"It's okay, Soda," I reassured him, trying to keep my cool. Darry had said it was important to keep Soda calm when this happened. "Just take one breath at a time, Soda, okay? Focus on me," I directed him. He met my eyes and I could see the fear in them. He was still gasping for breath and his body was shuddering with spasms as his lungs struggled to work. "Just one breath at a time," I repeated, squeezing his hand and not taking my eyes off his.
"It'll be fine, Soda," Two-Bit joined in.
"It's…It's worse…" Soda squeezed his eyes closed and held tight to my hand. I felt my own barely restrained panic brimming over. I tried to remember everything I'd learned about CPR and prayed I was overreacting.
"Hey, open your eyes, Soda," I ordered. I needed to keep him with me if I was gonna keep him calm. He obeyed and locked eyes with me. "Good. Now just concentrate, Sodapop," I encouraged. "One breath at a time. We'll get you through this, okay?" Soda gave me a small nod and continued to take in one shuddering breath after another. Gradually, his breathing became less labored and I started to relax.
Now that the worst had passed, he closed his eyes again and I saw a single tear fall down his face. "Hey, Soda," Two-Bit spoke up. Soda opened his eyes and looked over at him. The anxiety was less now, but it was still there. "Still want me to make the JELLO pie?" I gaped at Two-Bit. I couldn't believe he was still thinking about that stupid pie after what'd happened. Then I saw Soda smile a little and nod and I realized the pie was a distraction. My anger vanished as Two-Bit grinned and moved over to the kitchen to search for what he needed.
As I helped Soda lie down on the couch so he could see what Two-Bit was doing, the front door opened and Darry came in. He saw what was going on in the kitchen and looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Don't ask," I advised, rolling my eyes. He nodded, to used to Two-Bit's antics to argue. Soda was distracted and I used the opportunity to motion Darry down the hall. He followed me into his room and I closed the door behind him.
"What's going on, Steve?"
"Just before you got home Soda had a real hard time breathing," I started. Darry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"How bad was it?" he asked.
I sighed, remembering the past few minutes. "It was bad." I decided not to give any details unless he asked for them.
Darry nodded. "Thanks, Steve, for letting me know. How was the rest of the night?"
"It was fine. He pretty much slept the whole time."
"Good. And Two-Bit…?"
I grinned and shook my head. "You really wanna know?"
Darry laughed a little. "Better to know before he sets the house on fire."
"He's making JELLO pie," I told him and laughed as I saw his face fill with disgust. "Yeah, I know," I agreed. "But it's amusing Sodapop, so it ain't all bad." I left Darry shaking his head and headed back to see what disaster Two-Bit was creating.
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I slept most of my second week of treatment. No matter how much I slept, I was tired all the time. I was still throwing up most of what I ate and I was losing more weight. The gang waited on me hand and foot and pretty much carried me wherever I needed or wanted to go. I don't know what I would've done without them. If I tried to even walk across the room my lungs started struggling for air. I was getting more used to these episodes, but they were still scary as hell. I was terrified every time that I would stop breathing altogether. I knew the guys wondered the same thing, but none of us talked about it.
It was Wednesday on my week off and I was sitting in Dr. Sheldon's office with Darry and Ponyboy, waiting for him. He'd called us in to talk about the results from my last set of tests. He'd always just phoned us and I was starting to go out of my mind wondering why he wanted to talk to us in person this time.
When Dr. Sheldon came into the office, he shook each of our hands and took a seat. "Just tell us, doc," I said bluntly. I couldn't take the waiting anymore.
He nodded and sat forward in his chair, folding his hands on his desk. My heart started beating faster, trying to guess what was coming. "Soda, your test results are showing an improvement, but not as much as I need to see at this point. The treatment is working, but the toll it's taking on your body is extreme. I'm not sure your body will be able to handle the entire course the treatment would need to run in order to completely remove the cancer."
I felt like I'd just been sucker punched. Was he saying that this was it? Was he giving up on me?
"There's one option we can try," he continued, "but it's very experimental. It's called a bone marrow transplant. We would give you radiation treatment to destroy your own bone marrow, then give you bone marrow from another person."
That sounded scary, but I listened as he kept explaining. Any option was better than none.
"You all need to understand that this course of treatment has some very serious risks and roadblocks. First, we would need to find someone who's own bone marrow is compatible with your body, Soda. A sibling offers the best chance, so we may have some luck there. If we can't find a match, we won't be able to proceed. Second, as I already said, this is highly experimental. There have only been a few successful cases so far." I nodded to show I understood, but my mind was reeling. "If you decide to take this route and we're able to find a match, we'll admit you to the hospital and give you radiation therapy for a week to kill your bone marrow. The treatment is painless and the side effects are almost the same as that of chemotherapy. However, it will make you very vulnerable to infections because your immune system will be virtually destroyed." Oh, glory. This was just getting better and better.
"After your radiation treatment, we'll inject the donor marrow into your system. Then it'll be a waiting game to see if your body accepts the new marrow. You'd have to stay in isolation to decrease the risk of infection." My gaze shot to my brothers, horrified at the thought of being cut off from them, especially while I was waiting to see if I'd live or die. They didn't look any happier than I did. Dr. Sheldon saw the looks we exchanged and was quick to reassure us. "It wouldn't be total isolation. You'd be able to have a few visitors—your brothers and Steve and Two-Bit—but no one else. The fewer people you come into contact with, the less chance there is of infection."
He paused while everything he'd said sank in. "These are only the basics," he spoke again after a minute. "If you're interested in this option, I'll explain the details further." He looked at us very seriously. "I want you to consider this very carefully. It's possible, Soda, that your body will be able to withstand enough further rounds of chemotherapy to make you better, but there is a very good chance it will begin to shut down before that happens. This treatment may be your best option for survival, but it's also very risky. Think things over carefully, but the sooner you make a decision the better." Survival. The word rang in my head, echoing over and over till I couldn't hear anything else. Glory. This could be my best chance for survival? He was pretty much telling me I was gonna die.
"….up to you. Soda?" Words started breaking through the ringing in my head, but they didn't mean much to me till Darry shook my shoulder and I realized he was talking to me. "Soda? Did you hear what I just said?" I looked over to find Darry and Ponyboy both watching me with concern and I shook my head. Darry sighed and repeated what he'd apparently already told me. "I know it's a lot for you to take in, Soda, but this has got to be your decision. You know better than the rest of us what you can and can't handle. We're here for you, but in the end, it's gotta be up to you. Okay?" I nodded mutely, still numb with shock. For weeks now I'd been holding on to the knowledge that the chemo was working, that it was fighting the cancer. I knew it was making me sick, but I hadn't realized just how much of a toll it really was taking on my body, or maybe I'd just been in denial. Now I was being told that the price my body was paying might be too high.
Dimly, I realized that Darry's arm was around me, helping me out of the truck and into our house. When had we left the hospital? It didn't matter, anyway. Nothing seemed to matter right then. I just kept hearing Dr. Sheldon's words over and over in my head. This treatment may be your best option for survival. I was alone in my room, lying on my side; I didn't even remember getting there. I knew Darry had to go to work and Pony would be leaving sometime soon, too. I was sure they'd get Two-Bit or Steve over to watch me, but right then I was happy to just be alone. The word "survival" was still echoing in my head, like some horrific buzzing insect, and I finally couldn't take it anymore. I let out a sob, and once the first one came, I couldn't stop the ones that followed.
I grabbed a pillow and buried my face in it, trying to muffle the sound, but I was too late. I heard the door open and felt Pony lie down on the bed behind me. He wrapped an arm around me and I grabbed his hand, holding onto it for dear life. I don't know how long I cried for, but Pony stayed with me the whole time.
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Hours later, I was still lying on my bed, alone now, staring at the painting of Mickey and trying to figure out what to do. Both my options sounded pretty lousy and neither sounded very hopeful. I wanted so desperately to go back to the days when I still had Mickey, when Mom and Dad were still alive and I wasn't sick and everything was so much easier. I lay thinking for a long time until I realized how raw my throat was. I turned over and reached for the glass of water I kept on my nightstand. When I'd had a drink, I collapsed back onto the bed, exhausted from the effort of sitting up. That's when I knew what my decision had to be. If I could barely sit up long enough to get a drink of water now, what would I feel like after another round of chemo? And that session might not be enough to kill all the cancer. Dr. Sheldon was right; there was no way my body could handle it.
I fell asleep for a while and when I woke up I was thirsty again. I'd already drained my water glass so I decided to go to the kitchen for more. Before Pony had left to go babysit I'd heard him and Steve talking. I was pretty sure Steve was still in the living room and I knew I could call him, but I was tired of feeling so helpless all the time. I knew it was a bad decision to try and make it through the house on my own, but I didn't care. I needed to be able to do something on my own.
I slowly stood up, grabbed my water glass, and headed out of my room. Halfway down the hall, I started to feel light headed and my vision swam. I sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall, hoping it would go away before anyone noticed. No such luck. "Soda?" I heard Steve's voice through the fog. "What're you doing up? And why are you on the floor?"
"I'm gettin' more water," I answered. I was starting to feel more normal, or at least what passed for normal these days.
"Why didn't you call me?" he asked, annoyed.
"Cause I wanted to actually do something on my own for once, Steve," I snapped, eyes still closed. I was sick of people doing everything for me all the time. I appreciated it, but I was sick of it. When he didn't say anything, I opened my eyes and saw him wearing a slightly hurt expression. I started to feel guilty; I wouldn't have made it this far without the gang's support. "Sorry, Steve," I sighed. "I just…." I trailed off, but he got what I was trying to say.
"I know, Soda." I was relieved to see the hurt on his face disappear. "C'mon, let's get ya up."
I nodded. I was frustrated that I'd ended up needing help to finish the trip, but I knew I didn't have a choice. I put an arm around Steve's shoulders and he helped me up, taking the water glass from me at the same time. With Steve's help I took a few more steps down the hall, but before we'd reached the kitchen I felt my legs buckle and I collapsed onto the ground. I let out a frustrated groan, but I didn't argue when Steve picked me up and carried me to the couch.
As infuriating as the last few minutes had been, they'd reinforced my decision. Now it was time to start telling people. I'd heard most of my brother's conversation with Steve and knew Pony'd told him everything from this morning. When Steve brought me the water I'd been trying to get, I smiled at him in thanks, then took a deep breath. "Steve, I've gotta tell you something."
He sat on the edge of the couch and looked at me in concern, obviously not sure what he might be about to hear. "Soda, what's up?"
I paused, searching for the right words. When I couldn't think of an easy way to put it, I decided to just say it bluntly. "I'm gonna try the transplant."
Steve stared at me for a minute, processing what I'd just told him, then shook his head. "Soda, the doc said it was real risky. Are you sure you wanna try it?"
"Yeah, I'm sure," I nodded.
"But, what if it doesn't work? Don't you think you have a better chance with the chemo? At least the doctors know what they're doing with that."
I sighed. I knew this wasn't gonna be easy. "Steve, look at me," I said seriously. "I can't even walk down the hall on my own. I can barely sit up for more than a minute. I can't go through another round of chemo, if that's even enough to get all the cancer. I won't survive it." It was the first time I'd admitted this, even to myself, but I knew it was true. That word had repeated in my head countless times today, and I knew this transplant was my only real option.
Steve didn't look so sure, but my body decided to prove my point for me. I felt my chest tighten up and I started gasping, trying to get a deep breath. The familiar panic started setting in, but Steve was quick to take my hand and start talking me through this latest episode. The first time this had happened at home I'd honestly thought I was gonna stop breathing altogether. If Steve and Two-Bit hadn't been there to calm me down, I probably would've suffocated.
When I could breathe normally again, Steve was quiet for a long time. I wasn't in a hurry to start a conversation, so I waited till he was ready to talk. "I guess you're right," he admitted after a long silence.
I looked at him skeptically. I was positive now that this was the right decision and I was anxious to get some support on it. "Yeah?"
He nodded slowly, looking at his hands. Just then headlights flooded the room and we heard the sound of Darry's truck pulling into the driveway. "Look Soda, I gotta go," Steve said, quickly standing up. "I'll drop by to see ya tomorrow, kay?"
I barely had a chance to blink before he was out the door. Darry and Pony came in a minute later wearing identical confused expressions. "What's up with Steve?" Darry asked. "He just ran outta here like hell hounds were chasin' him or somethin'."
"Uh, guys, there's something I gotta tell you," I started nervously. I'd figured out by now that Steve obviously wasn't okay with my decision and I was afraid my brothers would have the same reaction, no matter what Darry had said earlier. They glanced quickly at each other, then came over to join me. Pony took a seat by my feet while Darry perched on the coffee table. They didn't say anything, already knowing what I wanted to talk about. I took a deep breath and tried to brace myself. "I don't want to do anymore chemo. I want to try the transplant." I saw Ponyboy nod, but his eyes were filled with tears and I reached out for his hand. "I'm not giving up, Pone," I reassured him. "I just know what I have to do."
"Alright, Soda," Darry said, no emotion showing on his face. "I said we'd support you, and we will. If this is what you want to do, I'll call the hospital in the morning and we'll start getting tested." I was glad he didn't mention the possibility that the tests might come back negative. If we couldn't find a match, I'd be back to chemo treatments and I didn't want to think about that. I would do them; I'd been honest when I'd told Pony I wasn't giving up, but I was scared what more chemo shots would do to me. I didn't remember much of last Monday, but Darry had told me I'd almost died that night and I was sure next time wouldn't be any better.
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"Another one, Buck," I ordered, slamming my empty beer bottle down on the bar.
"Last one, Randle," Buck said, handing me another Bud. I glared at him, but he was already helping someone else. I shrugged it off; if he cut me off here, I'd find somewhere else to get a drink. I'd heard there was a party at Tim's place tonight and figured he'd give me a couple beers. He still owed me for fixing up his car a while back.
I was downing the last of the bottle when I was suddenly knocked off the stool I'd been sitting on. I whirled around to see who the asshole was who'd slammed into me and found a medium sized guy leaning on the stool, trying to regain his balance. "Watch where you're fucking going," I snarled, moving towards him so I was inches from his face. He was a bit smaller than me, but not by much. By the looks of him he was middle class, but I didn't care much any which way. Greaser, Soc, or in between, this guy had pissed me off and was gonna pay for it.
"Hey, sorry man," he said, holding up his hands to show he didn't want a fight. Tough luck for him, cause he was gonna get one. "Let me buy ya a drink, okay?" he tried, turning towards the bar.
I grabbed his shoulder and spun him back around. "I don't want a drink." I punched him across the right cheek, earning a couple choice words from him and shouts from some of the people nearby. Angry now, he swung back. I ducked, tried to hit him with another right hook, and got slammed in the face with a second, more successful punch from him.
"Steve! Stop it, Steve!" I heard the shout from the crowd, but I ignored it. Next thing I knew, I was being pulled off the guy and held back.
"Not in here," Buck growled in my ear. The other guy was being held back, too, and I struggled to get out of Buck's grasp. Suddenly Evie was standing in my face, glaring daggers at me. I stopped trying to break free and Buck cautiously let go of me. "One more wrong move and you're outta here, Randle," Buck threatened before walking off.
The other guy had been dragged outta the bar by some bouncers and now I was left facing one very pissed off girlfriend. "What the hell were you thinking, Steve?" she shouted, hands on her hips.
I shrugged. "He shoulda been more careful," was all I said. I turned away from her and wandered towards the door, planning to head out in search of more beer. I wasn't in the mood to deal with Evie's hormones or whatever had her in such a bad mood.
"Don't walk away from me, Steve," she yelled, catching up and standing in front of me again. "You can't just go starting fights for no reason," she ranted, apparently intent on giving me a lecture.
"Yeah, why not?" I sneered, not really caring if my attitude made her madder.
"Cause you're acting like an ass, that's why!"
"So?" I asked, not seeing her point. "You don't have to stick around and watch." I tried moving around her but she stepped back into my path. Her dark eyes were burning with rage and something else I couldn't figure out.
"Steve, what's going on?" she asked, the fire in her eyes softening a bit.
"What's going on? You wanna know what's going on?" She nodded. "What's going on," I shouted, my anger suddenly growing again, "is that I've spent the last two months watching my best friend die!" I pushed past her, not letting her stop me this time. I stalked out to the parking lot and turned in the direction of Sheppard's house.
"Steve, wait!" Evie called from behind me and I groaned. I just wanted another fucking drink. I heard her high heels clicking on the ground as she ran to catch up again. She moved around in front of me and put both hands on my shoulders, gently bringing me to a stop. "Steve, did something happen to Soda, tonight?" Her eyes were filled with worry and I suddenly realized that after what I'd just said she probably thought Soda had died.
"It's not what you think, Evie," I sighed, calmer now. "He's home with Darry and Pony right now."
When I didn't continue, she gently prodded me on. "Then what is it? Why the explosion?"
I rubbed the back of my neck and took a deep breath. "He's not doing the next round of chemo. He's gonna try some bone transplant thing." I couldn't remember what the real name for it was and I didn't much care. Evie frowned, not sure what I was talking about. "I guess it's not that hard a procedure," I told her, understanding her confusion. Calling it a bone transplant didn't really create the best mental image for her. "But the doctor said it's real experimental and there haven't been that many successful cases."
Evie's eyes were warm now, all her anger gone now that she knew why I'd blown up. "He'll get through this, Steve. I know he will."
"Look, Evie," I sighed, taking her hands off my shoulders. "You don't really wanna be around me tonight. I just need to blow off some steam."
I started to walk away again but she moved one hand back to my shoulder. "Then blow it off with me," she offered.
"Not a good idea," I protested, shaking my head at her.
"Steve, I can handle it," she assured me, looking me straight in the eyes. They were dead serious.
"You sure?" I asked skeptically. "It's not gonna be nice, not tonight."
"I know. I can handle it, don't worry." I studied her face for a minute. I didn't want to ruin what we had, but she looked so inviting, her body and her eyes. "Steve, trust me," she whispered, bringing her lips to mine. That was the end of the discussion. We went back inside, quickly found Buck, and got a key for one of the rooms upstairs. We stumbled up the steps, lips locked the whole way. By the time I'd fumbled with the lock on the door, half our clothes were gone. I slammed the door closed and pushed Evie on the bed. I needed her right then more than I'd ever needed anything in my entire life, and she gave me everything I needed and more. When I'd finished and had collapsed on the bed, exhausted physically and mentally, she lay an arm across my chest and tangled her legs in mine, silently telling me she was there for me.
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Please review! I'd love to know what you thought. I feel really guilty half the time I write this story…
I'll hopefully be able to update soon. *crosses fingers* I have my exams in a couple weeks and have a lot of novels to catch up on before that. Also, I'm having some problems with a plot bunny for another story. By problems, I mean that the bunny is a bit like the one from Monty Python, randomly and viciously attacking me. I'll do my best to post another chapter within the week!
As an interest note, the first successful bone marrow transplant was performed in 1958, if I remember right, using twins. A lot of sources cite the first transplant as 1969 or somewhere around that, and therefore after this story, but that was the first transplant using a nonrelated donor.