As soon as we get to the hospital, they put him on a gurney and wheel him into one of those tiny cubicles. A nurse comes in and attaches an IV line to the port they put in prior to his chemo—it’s a direct line into his bloodstream that’s attached to his chest. This way they never have to stick an IV into his vein. Then she draws several tubes of blood and says a doctor will be in.

An hour later, his oncologist cruises in, smiling.

“How do you feel?”

“Hot,” Drew says.

“Yeah, we’re doing blood cultures now, but you know how long those take. You’ll be out of here before they grow anything. I’m starting you on the big gun antibiotics prophylactically. Sorry man, but you’re in for the duration. We’re gonna add some stuff to your regimen to prevent this, too. You’ll get a room in about an hour. You need anything?”

“Can you cover my rotation for me?”

His doctor laughs. “I’ll get your attending in here. We’ve got you, man.” Then he turns to me and says, “No kissing and wash the hell out of your hands. I would prefer if you wear a mask and gloves around him, Cate. He’s in a risky situation right now.” He walks to cart, grabs a box of masks and gloves, and hands them to me.

“I understand.” Then he’s gone.

Before I get the chance to speak, Drew says, “Go home, babe. I’m so sleepy. I’m probably gonna nap all afternoon. This fever takes it out of me. You’ll be able to get your work done.”

“Maybe so. I can bring you back something to eat.”

“No, I meant go home home. I’m in for the week. I feel wasted. You have so much work and I know you’re blowing smoke up my ass when you say things are fine. Just go home and get your shit done. Come back Friday and I’ll be ready to go home. I promise.”

“Drew! I can’t leave.”

“Cate, come here.” He pats the bed so I sit. “Realistically, what can you do? And give me an honest answer.”

He’s right. I can’t do anything for him that he can’t do himself.

“See. I can hold my own dick to pee,” he says, winking at me, “but if I really needed help with that, I would tell you.”

I can’t help the bubbly giggle that spurts out of my lips.

“And my hands would be happy to hold your dick.”

“Oh, don’t I know it. Go, babe. Go pack up and call me when you get home. I’ll text you every time I wake up, but I’ll try not to bother you. I love you more than hockey, but you have shit to do.”

Guilt gushes into me. I want to stay with him, but he is so right. I have so much crap hanging over me right now, and this time away from him would help.

“I can see it in your eyes. You need to go. I couldn’t be in a better place. Go and drive safely. Call when you get home.”

I kiss the top of his beautiful bald head.

“Cate, don’t forget, bald is beautiful.”

“It sure is on you. Love you.” I give him a wave as I leave and my heart squeezes as he waves back. His crimson cheeks starkly contrast the purple crescents under his eyes. He really is feverish.

The trip home is miserable. I alternate between crying, laughing, and screaming my anger out in the car. Jenna waits for me when I walk in the door.

“He’s right and get over yourself. You need to be here and you can’t do a damn thing for him, as he lays in the bed sleeping.”

“Jenna, what if the infection kills him? His doctor wanted me to wear a mask around him.”

“Precautionary. Stop this. What happened to my no nonsense, solid thinking friend?”

“What happened to her? I’ll tell you what happened to her! Her fiancé got this fucking disease called cancer and it’s ravaging his body! That’s what happened to her!” I’m screaming at the top of my lungs and I want to break something. “And don’t fucking tell me to calm down!”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” Jenna doesn’t skip a beat as she walks to the cabinet, pulls out a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses, and pours. Then she hands me one. “Drink.”

“What?”

“Drink, goddammit. You’re on the verge of freaking out on me. You need a fucking drink. Down it, now.”

Grabbing the glass out of her hand, I swallow it. Then she hands me the other one. “One more.”

After I drink that one, she walks to the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of wine. After pouring two glasses, she hands me one and says, “Sit your ass down.”

So I do.

“How long do you think you can do this?”

“As long as it takes. I’ll do anything for him, Jenna.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I meant. You need help. With him. You’re driving back and forth like you’re the only one in the world who can help him. You have an unbelievable class load this semester. He has a mother, you know.”

“Oh, I don’t think …”

“Fuck you and your not thinking. Reach out to Letty. She’s probably trying to stay out of your hair. And here you are killing yourself.”

“You think?”

“I know. And Drew would never ask anyone for anything. Call her. She needs to know he’s in the hospital.”

I make the call and Letty arranges a flight for the morning. I don’t care if Drew is angry or not. The relief in her voice was worth it. Ray and I talk, too. He’s comfortable with what they’re doing, but sad Drew didn’t call. I tell them how wiped out he was and blamed it on that. It satisfies him so he says he will give Drew a call later.

Jenna is all smiles. “Feel better?”

“I do. Thanks.”

“You have to start delegating. This will be good experience for you when you get into your career. If you can’t delegate, you’re fucked up a tree, girl. You cannot possibly do it all. I know you’re super awesome and all, but hey, you’re not Wonder Woman.”

“I’m not?” I ask with a straight face.

“Nah. I am.”

I throw a pillow at her and then pounce on her.

“What the actual fuck would I do without you? You are keeping me in line here. Keeping my shit together.”

“That’s what maids of honor are for.”

DREW HANDLES THE REST OF his chemo fairly well, with only a few little bumps. One more fever scare but it’s only a low grade one where they initiate antibiotics at home and delay his next treatment a week. He loses a bit of weight, but not too much. What I hate the most for him is that his strength declines so hockey is no longer an option. Besides, he needs to work as much as he can, so his extracurricular activities are cut to almost none. His coworkers have been unbelievable in their support. They have picked up extra hours to give him time off when he needs it and the outpouring of support he’s received humbles Drew.

His mom makes frequent trips during his treatment while I’m at school and goes home for the weekends when I visit. We’ve worked out a great schedule between us and even Drew is good with it. He likes having her there to cook for him because he’s so wiped out if he works at all and too tired to do it himself. I’m happy knowing at least he’s getting good meals and someone is watching after him.

At the end of February, they do a follow up bone scan and another PET scan. The news is good! The tumor has shrunk down to almost nothing, so the second week in March, they do the surgical excision. It’s a rough one. They remove seven inches of his seventh rib. No one has prepared me for the chest tube and the other tubes he has coming out of him. I never was bothered much by the sight of blood, but this takes it to an entirely different level.

The nurses all hover over him, and why wouldn’t they? He’s one of their own. But damn, he looks awful. When I see him, I run to his mom and break down and cry. He’s so out of it, he doesn’t even notice I’m there.

Letty holds me, and we hang onto each other for dear life. Ray paces. It must be a terrible thing to be a physician and have your son become ill with cancer, and not be able to help him. Ray’s mind must always be in doctor mode, and that has to include a prognosis with outcome data that may or may not be positive.