by Pat Simmons
Rachel took slow, deep breaths and braced herself for an invasion of medicine that could be just as deadly as the cancer in her body. The drug dripped from the bag, then seemed to race to her veins. She cringed at the slight burn upon contact. The sensation continued as the drugs climbed her arm.
“The treatment takes a while—hours—so next time, you might want to bring a headset to listen to music, or you can have one of your family members come back.”
As nervous as Rachel was about the therapy, she didn’t want anyone to see her endure the treatment—not yet. At the moment, it was “me and Jesus” time. She declined the offer.
“Whatever makes you comfortable,” the nurse said. “However, you’re going to need the distraction, because Dr. Brooks chose the dose-dense chemo over the traditional chemotherapy regimen.”
“I hope my body can handle this intense attack every two weeks instead of the usual three weeks.”
Dr. Brooks had explained that research found the dose-dense method, as they called it, would be more concentrated, improve survival rate, and decrease the risk of her breast cancer returning. At the time, the plan of attack seemed to be in her favor. Rachel would know for sure if the right choice was made after this dose.
“That’s why it’s important you take care of yourself while you’re in treatment. I can’t emphasize enough the importance of rest, because this treatment compromises your immune system and red blood cells.”
“My sister, who is a pharmaceutical rep, says the Neulasta the oncologist prescribed has side effects.” She gazed at her long, thick single braid, another gift from God Rachel had taken for granted all her life. “Including losing my hair.”
“Sounds like you’ve done your research.” Amanda patted her thigh. “But it’ll grow back.”
“With a sister like Tabitha, information overload can’t be helped, but some things I don’t want to know.”
Left alone, Rachel napped, watched a couple of shows on TV, listened to the overhead music, and flipped through some magazines—anything that would keep her from watching the drips from the bag.
By the time Rachel completed her first round of chemo, half the day was gone. Amanda gave her another injection, then repeated the task of recording her vitals.
“Before you leave, it’s important that you stay away from people who are sick. If you develop side effects…” Amanda thoroughly reviewed a series of dos, like drink plenty of water to push the medicine through her body and flushing the toilet twice after use, because the drugs were toxic, to maintaining good oral care to prevent mouth sores, to reporting skin rashes and using unscented lotions to combat dry skin. The list was lengthy.
She handed Rachel some pamphlets. “If you develop any of the symptoms I’ve outlined, call the number listed right away.”
“I hope the chemo did some good.” Rachel prayed for immediate results.
“With every treatment, you’ll be closely monitored. We’ll examine you, review your blood tests, and order X-rays.”
Rachel stood slowly to get steady on her feet. She felt like the chemo had sucked all the life out of her. As a matter of fact, she felt drained. What did this medicine do to her? Getting her bearings, she walked through the door to the lounge. There was a handful of other folks waiting besides her support team; even Nicholas had arrived and stood to greet her. She began to wobble, and Nicholas rushed to her side in two long strides. She looked into his eyes. “Hi.”
“Hey, beautiful,” he whispered and angled his body so he could bear her weight.
“I survived.” She chuckled.
“And you will survive,” all of them said in unison before Rachel felt faint and Nicholas scooped her up in his arms.
“So tired,” she murmured, then everything went dark.
Chapter 26
“Once we got home after Rachel’s first treatment…” Tabitha told Nicholas over the phone. “She was so sick, it was heart-wrenching. Kym and I felt helpless, watching our baby sister suffer from nausea, then the vomiting. It wasn’t a pretty picture. You know, chemo is considered a hazmat, so Kym and I had to use precautions for cleanup. This is hard for us as well as Rachel. I don’t think any of us have come to terms with this.”
That had been day one. Yesterday, Tabitha advised him that she’d had to wake Rachel to make her drink water so she wouldn’t get dehydrated. She had slept eleven hours. Nicholas’s heart sank as he listened to the despair in Tabitha’s voice. If everyone lost hope, they still expected him to be steadfast, so he had fervently prayed for Rachel’s healing and peace.
Now, three days later, Nicholas had to still rely on Tabitha for updates on Rachel’s condition because she refused to see him. Or rather, Rachel’s excuse was she didn’t want him to see her. He had to resort to Tabitha as his go-between to find out how Rachel was faring.
Nicholas had to believe prayer was enough. Then why couldn’t he sleep at night? Because my heart is heavy, he answered while searching for a file on his computer at his desk. He had to focus. He was the shift manager, and he had to manage his team, but he couldn’t even manage his emotions.
“Nick, Nick. Where’s your head, man?” a manager from another department asked, snapping his fingers in front of Nicholas’s face.
Whoa. Nicholas blinked. He must have really been out of it. “Sorry.” He hadn’t heard anyone step into his office.
Warren May frowned. “Are you okay, man?” He took the liberty of leaning on the corner of Nicholas’s desk. “What’s up?”
“My girlfriend is sick—going through chemo—and it’s rough on all of us.” Nicholas couldn’t believe he said so much to someone who wasn’t much more than a coworker.
Yet Nicholas’s mind was so saturated with concern, his mouth opened and words spilled out to relieve some of the pressure. “Sorry, didn’t mean to unload that on you.” Right now, he needed words of encouragement, and he didn’t care who God used to give them.
Folding his arms, Warren shook his head. “Nick, I get that you’re a good guy and a minister and all, but what I don’t get is…” He shrugged. “She’s not your wife. Why are you investing so much time in a woman who may not be part of your future? I’m not talking about her dying,” he was quick to add and held up his hands to soften the blow, but the hit was felt anyway. “I had a cousin who was in a similar situation and was devastated when Beth passed away. I’m just trying to save you some heartache.”
He gave Warren an incredulous stare. Did he just utter those words to me? “My heart is invested. I love her, and that’s what people—family, friends, neighbors—do when they care about a person. They stick by them.”
Warren bobbed his head. “What if she—”
“Really? A woman is fighting to live, and you’re talking about her dying? Don’t test me.” He fumed, then had to regulate his breathing to tame his temper. What kind of godly witness would he be if he couldn’t hold his peace? “Now, what can I help you with?”
Warren pointed out some flaws in a program, and Nicholas zoomed in on them right away and gave the man suggestions on how to correct them. Accepting Nicholas’s expertise, Warren nodded and mumbled, “Thanks.”
Once Nicholas was alone again, he took a deep breath and tried to free his mind of all thoughts of death before he bowed his head and prayed. Lord, please let Rachel live.
* * *
Rachel opened her eyes and scanned her bedroom. It seemed as if she had been sleeping forever, but she was still sleepy. What day was it? What time was it? And why was Tabitha stretched out on a chaise on the other side of Rachel’s master bedroom instead of in the guest room?
Then Rachel remembered her big sister playing mother hen, fussing over her after the first chemo. They’d stared at each other and smiled.Rachel had been the first to speak. Her voice had cracked. “Like Aunt Tweet thanked me during her stay here in Nashville, I want to tell you I appreciate you
coming to take care of me now that I’m sick.”
“You’re welcome.” Tabitha had smiled. “But no thanks is needed when you belong to us. Age has nothing to do with it. You’re our sister, so we’ll always be here for you.”
Rachel had sniffed and given a weak smile, then rolled over. She felt so helpless. “I’ve gone from being a caregiver—and maybe not a good one—to someone who needs care.”
“The best caregiver is one who never stops loving, and you loved our aunt to the end,” Kym had said softly. “I am not at the same place in my relationship with God that you and Tabitha are, but I have to ask, where’s your faith in God?”
That her sister had called her out meant Rachel wasn’t leading by example. “Honestly, my faith seems so far away most of the time that I can’t grab it.”
Rachel blinked now as her eyes adjusted to darkness. How was she supposed to survive months of treatment when she could barely get her body out of bed for the bathroom?
God, why me? She wondered if the Lord heard her. Her eyes misted. She remembered she wasn’t alone. She thought of Jesus’s words of reassurance and hope in Luke 12. If God’s eye is on the sparrow, why should I be afraid? Reading the Bible always comforted her. If only Nicholas were there to give her insight. She reached for the phone.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Nicholas didn’t mask the panic in his sleepy voice when he answered on the second ring.
It was one thirty in the morning. She felt foolish to have woken him.
When she didn’t answer, he asked again.
“Nothing, really,” she said softly.
“I got the nothing part. What is the ‘really’ you’re not telling me? Talk to me.” His deep voice pleaded with her.
“I know it’s selfish of me, but will you read Luke 12 with me?”
Nicholas’s chuckle made even Rachel smile. “Woman, your request is such a small thing to ask of me. Hold on. Let me get my Bible.”
She listened as he got his Bible, and the next thing she heard was him reading the chapter. When he finished, he asked, “Are you going to sleep on me?”
“Hmm.” With her eyes closed, she felt at peace. “I love you.”
“And I love you too, very much.”
“Good night,” she whispered and ended the call. “Thank You, God,” she whispered again and drifted off.
Chapter 27
Rachel plastered on a brave face as she endured another bout of chemo drugs. She wanted to show her sisters that she was independent, and they didn’t have to put their worlds on hold to babysit her.
Reluctantly, Kym and Tabitha agreed to step back and give her some space—as long as there were no setbacks—and return to their lives while Nicholas and Jacqui had settled back into their work schedules. Plus, Rachel reminded them of Clara, who was at Rachel’s beck and call.
Dogs really were man’s best friends. Although Jacqui cared for her pets after each one of Rachel’s treatments until she regained her strength, the pooches were Rachel’s constant companions.
After preparing a small plate of eggs and toast with apple juice, Rachel stepped outside on the balcony to eat where she could overlook the bustle of the city dwellers below. She gave thanks for her breakfast—or brunch, now—and forced it into her mouth. It was tasteless, even with the added salt and pepper. If nothing else, her jaws got a workout.
Maybe the scenery would help her enjoy it. Despite being dressed in a thick sweater, sweats, and thick socks, she felt cold. It was an unseasonably chilly late November morning.
The sun shined bright, warming the city to sixty-five degrees. Fashion-wise, she loved this time of year when her wardrobe popped with the latest colors, so she could strut to work or play in updated outfits. Once, she had never left home without a cap or coordinating scarf. None of that vanity mattered now.
As she watched planes appear and disappear into the clouds, the thoughts of death returned. In her quiet time, she couldn’t help but wonder about her mortality. How would her sisters craft her “Life Reflections” that mourners would be instructed to read in silence during her funeral?
Rachel Celia Knicely, 30, was the last daughter born to Thomas and Rita Knicely (née Gibson). Both parents preceded her in death… She leaves us to mourn her memories…
“Whew.” Writing her own obit was too overwhelming. She would leave that task to her sisters. Rachel could imagine how they would endure.
When a breeze stirred, she shivered and reached for the throw she had brought outside as her phone rang. She smiled, recognizing Nicholas’s ringtone.
“Hey, baby.” His smile came through his words.
Rachel closed her eyes to cherish the moment. At one time, she thought they had a future. Now, she didn’t know if she had a future on this earth.
“I’m checking in on you before my next meeting with corporate. How do you feel? Did you eat?”
She shook her head at his checklist. The man could be worse than her sisters. “Everything is good.” She shrugged. “Just having a moment.”
“Well, hold your moment until I see you later. I’m bringing you quiche. I hope you’ve got a taste for it.”
“Me too,” she said in an upbeat tone that she wasn’t feeling.
“Love you and see you soon.” Before ending the call, Nicholas gave her a Scripture. “Meditate on Jeremiah 29:11.”
That was the irony of reading her Bible. Rachel couldn’t understand how she could meditate on passages and feel comforted, then a moment hit, and she felt defeated. “Okay, I will. Love you too.” She ended the call and closed her eyes as the sun brightened and warmed her skin.
A few hours later, Rachel was stirred from her nap when her door to the balcony opened and Clara stepped out. “I used the code you gave me to let myself in when you didn’t answer the door.” She shivered. “How long have you been out here?”
The pass code had been Tabitha’s idea to give Clara access to the condo for well-being checks, and Rachel had agreed, since the home health aide had been loyal and trustworthy when Aunt Tweet was in her care.
“Not sure how long I’ve been dozing, but it is rather brisk.” Rachel shivered and hurried inside the living room with Clara trailing her with dirty dishes. Although she could tolerate cool temperatures from growing up in St. Louis, Rachel didn’t want to risk getting sick while the chemo compromised her resistance.
Her aide turned on the gas fireplace to warm Rachel, then tidied the kitchen, bedroom, and bath. The rest of Rachel’s spacious twelve-hundred-square-foot loft remained untouched. She had purchased the pricey condo because she could afford it and considered it a showpiece when she had friends over. Now, it seemed like wasted space. She didn’t know when she would feel sociable again.
Thanking Clara, Rachel walked into the bedroom for her Bible to read the Scripture Nicholas suggested. She flipped through the pages until she found Jeremiah 29:11. For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.
“God, what are Your thoughts about me?” Rachel mumbled. “Lord, please give me faith as I go through these treatments. I know doctors practice medicine, but You are the master physician.” She closed her eyes for a moment.
Rachel opened her eyes and continued reading. She didn’t realize she had read a couple of chapters until Clara reappeared.
“Would you like me to prepare a snack or something for you?”
“Oh, no, Nicholas is stopping by and bribing me with some quiche.” The foods she craved before the start of chemo seemed to have lost their flavor. Her tongue had been affected, and her taste buds seemed dormant. Not only had the chemo robbed her of her lifestyle, but it had robbed her of her appetite too. Would her hair be next? The chemo was killing more than her cancer cells.
Nicholas arrived two hours earlier than expected. Clara opened the door for him, and he en
tered with a smile, a sack from Marché, and a bouquet of flowers.
“Hi, beautiful.” He kissed her cheek and proceeded to the kitchen.
Although Rachel didn’t feel close to beautiful, Nicholas could make her believe anything with his sparkling eyes and engaging smile, including convincing her that somehow beauty was still left inside her, so she smiled and accepted his compliment without any argument.
Clara had already set the table for two with Rachel’s china and stemware, which Nicholas preferred when he brought her food, saying, “You deserve the best.”
“Clara, I brought extra for you.” He handed her a bag.
“Thank you, Minister Adams.” Clara said, then disappeared into Rachel’s spare bedroom to study for her exams to become a registered nurse.
“Let’s say grace,” Nicholas said softly and reached for Rachel’s hands and rubbed her fingers. “Hmm. Still soft as ever.”
He had no idea the effort it took to keep her skin moisturized with unscented lotions for sensitive skin. Rachel was accustomed to fragrances and colognes. Still, she blushed and listened to him give thanks for their meal. Before he concluded, Rachel whispered a silent prayer for God to give her an appetite to eat it.
“Now, Miss Rachel Knicely—my lady, the love of my life, I need you to eat. I don’t care how long it takes,” he said sternly, pointing to the quiche, “and as much of the vegetable medley as you can, or I’ll feed you myself.” It didn’t sound like a threat, but his deadpan expression hinted he was serious. “We’ll share the fruit salad,” he added with a smile.
“I’ll try,” she said softly.
He nodded. Along with dinner came his sense of humor about his nephews. They laughed together, and before Rachel realized it, she had eaten most of her food, even if it did take her twice as long as it took him to eat. He rewarded her with a soft kiss against her forehead before he stood to clear the table.
