Two's Company

You could smell the antibacterial gel in the air. The bleep of machines, singing in harmony with the beat of the heart. 

The decor, pure white … not a drop of colour, anywhere. 

Another Monday morning, and there they sit, connected not only to a drip, but also to each other. 

“How was your weekend?”

“Been throwing up non stop! And you?”

“Had the family over. Didn’t feel like socialising, but I don’t want them to worry. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I know.”

The chairs were quite comfortable. The treatment, not so much. 

June was adorning her signature flower patterned head scarf. Bob was clean shaven … he’d given up on that fight long ago. 

“Anyone for a hot drink?” sang the nurse, whilst cruising down the ward with her trolly of refreshments. 

June had a coffee, Bob had a cup of tea. With that, Bob pulled out his bag & withdrew his favourites: Chocolate digestives. 

“Fancy a bickie, June?” 

“No thanks, Bob. Don’t think I could keep it down.” 

Bob sank a few of the chocolate covered biscuits, then put them away. He knew when to stop. 

“Anyone coming up to visit today, Bob?”

“Nah, I don’t want to put anyone out. How about you?”

“Same. I don’t like them seeing me like this.”

They sat there, with smiles on their faces. Chatting away, like they’d known each other for years. They had clearly become close, as they battled their illness. It was almost as if they actually looked forward to their treatment, because they would get to see each other again. 

Life can be strange at times. 

They were great company for each other. They’d play chess, cards, Scrabble, anything to pass the time. If it wasn’t for the companionship, I’m sure they would both find their journey to recovery much more difficult. 

As the weeks went on, they became closer and closer. 

“How’s your scar healing up, June?”

“Quite well thanks, Bob. And yours?”

“It’s a naughty one, but every scar tells a story! At the end of the day, that scar has so far saved my life, so I’d rather live with it as opposed to not living without it!”

“I know what you mean, Bob.”

Lunch time came around, and they were offered a selection of meals. Bob had a jacket potato, with cheese and beans. June had a sandwich. As per usual, they never quite managed to finish their food. The medication saw to that. They had both lost their sense of taste, but not smell – there was something very disconcerting of being able to smell roast lamb and other food but it tasting like cardboard! Similarly with wine which tasted like vinegar. June had found drinking port was a good substitute for wine, and recalled drinking it as if it were wine as not being very clever!

But they were well looked after, and were made as comfortable as possible. 

It was Bob’s birthday one week, and June bought him a cake. It was in the guise of Bob The Builder, which Bob found quite amusing. They each had a slice, and the rest was shared amongst the staff looking after them. June & Bob just clicked, and they appeared to have the same sense of humour. You know when you don’t have to try? It just comes naturally. 

Both June and Bob had experienced what is known as Chemo-fog, whereby they never felt quite on the ball, so to speak. It was a horrible sensation, and really tends to get you down. However, because the two of them were so close by this point, they brought each other back up. Telling jokes, reciting old stories and general chit-chat was what the doctor ordered, so to speak. They really were there for one another. 

Black crescents under the eyes were a classic feature of people undergoing chemotherapy, and Bob & June were no exception. One day “for a laugh” June covered up Bob’s dark eyes with makeup, and he looked much better afterwards. That’s the kind of friendship they had developed, they were truly becoming the best of friends. They were like family.

June’s eyebrows and eyelashes fell out. 

“I look remarkably blank” she would say. 

As it is fashionable to draw eyebrows on these days, she gave it a go. Oh, how she tried! One looked great but damned if she could get the other to resemble the first effort. She gave up on that and remained blank for the time being.

She had also lost a fair amount of weight during the treatment, but she was ok with that. She had wanted to shed a few pounds for some time, so welcomed the change. However, people were very good at not saying what she knew they were thinking. It was a horrible illness, but these two weren’t letting it get them down. 

They each experienced the feeling of always having the sniffles (like a cold) loss of taste, constipation and then diarrhoea (that was weird!) But they really did help to pull each other through the side effects. It was something that just had to be done, and they weren’t letting it beat them. 

Bob, being a Millwall fan, would recite their chant: 

“United we stand, divided we fall!” 

June would give a nod of agreement, then jokingly roll her eyes. 

In week 12 of treatment, June came in as per usual, and was connected up to the drip. Bob appeared to be running late. June never thought anything of it, and just dosed off. She was awoken at 12:34pm to be asked what she would like for lunch. She just asked for a ham sandwich, and put it to one side. Chemotherapy had diminished her appetite, but more importantly, Bob still wasn’t there?

At the end of June’s treatment, she enquired with the staff as to where Bob was. The nurse’s voice was softly spoken, when she informed June that Bob had sadly passed away during the night. 

June closed her eyes, and a tear rolled down her cheek …