I caught up with a friend today who I met through hairdressing academy last year. Although we only knew each other ever so briefly before she took sick, I knew I had made a life long friend in Eva. She was sitting in her hospital bed when I arrived today, wiping her neck and face with a cool flannel as I sat down on the seat next to her bed. The fever she has had intermittently for weeks now is back and there’s no reason for it.
Right from the outset I knew Eva was a tough chick. Tattoos all over her, punk rock hair, and a take no shit attitude. She’s a bit like me but way fucking cooler with more tattoos! When she first left the academy due to illness the docs said she had Glandular Fever, which by all accounts sounded fair and reasonable when taking into account her symptoms. It was a few months later that they told Eva she had Lymphoma. Yeah that fucking shit sneaks up on you and WHAM you now have cancer thank you very much! I can’t even begin to imagine how crushing that must have been for her then, but more so now, to know something just wasn’t right the whole fucking time, and to be continually told it’s just the Glandular Fever.
Anyways, Eva went through the chemo and then the radiation to kill this motherfucking shit Lymphoma. She endured weeks of the treatments, away from her two-year old son and family. Eva loves her boy like nothing else. He is her whole entire world and today sitting in the bed, all she wanted to be doing was playing with her awesome little son, who desperately misses his Mummy.
I walked into the hospital room today expecting to see her feeling sorry and looking shit, but to my delight she was smiling and although she’s much less stockier than last I saw her, she’s still looking great. Her new short and curly, dark-brown hair looks fucking awesome, far from the rocking pink she had but still HOT. Now whether her smile is a mask for all her pain and sadness I have no clue; perhaps she was high on Endone and was watching a pink dog cock its leg on my black tights the short time I was there? Who knows? Smile or not in my eyes she’s a fucking star, a super star riding a cancer bull for the full eight seconds.
I chat with Eva on messenger, she updates me to what’s going on and I just refuse to allow myself to feel sorry for her. That’s not what she wants. She’s not after pity, or the ‘oh Eva’s’, she just wants to be at home. The radiation has ravaged on her body, with suspected nerve damage and the trial drug in her chemo has potentially damaged her liver, yup, like this little Lymphoma party wasn’t fun enough, now she has to wait for this infection they can’t fucking find to fuck off so they can move her to Peter Mac where a specialist can assess the damage.
The treatment to get rid of this war in her body is way worse than the cancer itself. The effects caused by the drugs and therapy are so aggressive in nature you just have to wonder how she is still sitting in that bed smiling at me? She can’t stand the sheets on her skin, and she’s constantly moving about, restless as a result of the Endone and other pain killers they have her on, but I believe more so because she fucking hates that bed.
She’s been in hossy nearly a month now, waiting for this mysterious infection to present itself somewhere or just fuck right off entirely. She’s without her gall bladder, has had a burnt oesophagus and liver failure which resulted in looking like an Oompa Loompa off Charlie & The Chocolate Factory AND they’re still poking and prodding her like the proverbial pin cushion, taking her blood and obs constantly, feeding her hospital food with meal replacement shakes, aimed at getting her to put on weight. Her recent PET scans, CAT scans and endless other tests are all cancer free, meaning she is sitting in the Oncology Ward without cancer. So ironic isn’t it? All this pain and damage is a direct result of the treatment that has killed the demon within her lymph nodes.
Eva, you’re my little hero. You have a heart like a lion and I believe you will see the other side of this with oodles of health and happiness. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger they say, and I believe that this is what your destined to do, you’ll survive. I won’t feel sorry for you, but I will tell you that you’re stronger than you have any idea of, look just how fucking far you have come already girl. Keep keeping on. Thank you for today, for your honesty and integrity. Huge hugs. X
When you get out of there we’ll have a pot of tea!!
Make sure you turn the teapot twice clockwise and once anticlockwise!