First chemotherapy
1264 Words
The morning was calm inside the spacious living room. John stood near the centre of the room, already dressed for work, his car keys resting in his hand. He glanced at the clock before turning his attention back to his grandfather, who was seated comfortably on the sofa.
“Grandfather,” John said, taking a seat opposite him. “Your sixty-fifth birthday is coming up soon.”
His grandfather looked up from his newspaper. “Don’t remind me. It’s just another day.”
John shook his head. “No, it’s not. You’ve done so much for this family. We’re going to celebrate you properly this time.”
A small smile appeared on his grandfather’s face. “You always think you can arrange everything.”
“Because someone has to,” John replied.
Before his grandfather could answer, the sound of footsteps coming from the staircase caught his attention.
Daniel’s expression changed instantly.
His eyes moved towards the stairs as a figure slowly appeared.
It was her.
The person he disliked more than anyone else.
Emily descended the staircase quietly, her hand lightly holding the railing. She wore a beautiful wine-coloured gown that flowed elegantly around her as she walked. The dress had a simple but expensive design, with delicate embroidery around the neckline and a soft fabric that moved gracefully with every step.
Her long dark hair was styled into loose waves that fell over one shoulder, making her look composed and elegant. But despite her beautiful appearance, there was uneasiness in her eyes the moment she noticed John standing in the living room.
She stopped briefly.
Their eyes met.
The confidence she had while walking down the stairs disappeared almost immediately.
John’s cold stare was enough to make the atmosphere uncomfortable. He didn’t say a word, but the dislike between them was obvious.
Emily quickly looked away.
She didn’t greet him.
She knew better than to start a conversation with him.
John watched her walk past, his jaw tightening. He hated how her presence could change the mood of a room so quickly.
His grandfather noticed the tension between them but said nothing.
“Sir,” Emily said softly, directing her attention only to Mr. Smith. “I’m ready, sir.”
Mr. Smith folded his newspaper and smiled gently. “Alright. Go and have something to eat before we leave. You shouldn’t go on an empty stomach.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily replied quietly.
As she turned to leave for the dining room, John frowned.
“Where are you two going?” he asked, looking from Mr. Smith to Emily.
Emily hesitated for a moment before answering. “I’m going for my first chemotherapy treatment today.”
Before she could say another word, John’s voice cut through the room.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
The living room fell silent.
Emily lowered her gaze immediately, her fingers tightening around the strap of her handbag. Without another word, she walked away toward the dining room.
Mr. Smith shot John a disappointed look.
“That was unnecessary, John.”
John merely picked up his car keys and slipped them into his pocket, his expression unreadable.
“I asked you grandfather,” he said flatly. “Not her.”
With that, he turned and headed for the door, leaving a heavy silence hanging over the room.
The oncology wing was quieter than Amelia had expected.
Instead of the chaos she imagined, the corridors were filled with hushed conversations, the soft squeak of nurses’ shoes against the polished floor, and the occasional beeping of medical equipment.
The smell of disinfectant lingered in the air.
Emily sat beside Mr. Smith in the waiting area, her hands clasped tightly together on her lap. She kept rubbing her thumb against her fingers without realizing it.
Her heart pounded.
This was it.
Her first chemotherapy session.
She had spent hours imagining it, praying she would be strong enough for it. Yet sitting outside the treatment room made everything suddenly feel real.
Mr. Smith noticed her trembling hand.
He gently placed his own over it.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said softly.
She forced a small smile.
“I wish I believed that.”
“You will.”
Before either of them could say another word, a nurse stepped into the waiting room with a warm smile.
“Miss?”
Emily stood immediately.
“Good morning,” the nurse greeted kindly. “I’m Grace, and I’ll be taking care of you today. Is this your first chemotherapy treatment?”
Emily nodded.“Yes.”
“It’s perfectly normal to be nervous,” Grace assured her. “We’ll explain everything before we begin.”
Mr. Smith rose from his seat.
“I’ll stay with her.”
The nurse smiled.
“Of course. A family member is welcome to remain with the patient.”
She led them into a large treatment room.
It looked nothing like Emily had imagined.
The room wasn’t filled with hospital beds but with comfortable reclining chairs arranged neatly beside large windows. Several patients sat quietly in their chairs. Some read books. One elderly woman knitted while medicine slowly flowed through the clear tubing connected to her arm. Another man slept peacefully beneath a light blanket.
The atmosphere was strangely calm.
Grace guided Emily to an empty reclining chair.
“You can sit here.”
Emily lowered herself into the chair.
It was softer than she expected.
The nurse checked her temperature, blood pressure, pulse, and oxygen level before reviewing her medical chart.
“Everything looks good,” Grace said. “Before each chemotherapy session, we make sure your body is ready for treatment.
Another nurse arrived with a small tray.
“We’re going to place an IV into a vein in your arm,” she explained. “You’ll feel a quick pinch.”
Emily nodded nervously.
She looked away as the needle slipped into the vein on the back of her hand.
It stung for only a second.
“You’re doing very well,” the nurse encouraged.
She connected the IV tubing to a bag of clear fluid.
“This is hydration. It helps prepare your body.”
A few minutes later, another medication was given through the IV.
“This medicine helps prevent nausea,” Grace explained. “Many people feel sick after chemotherapy, so we give this first.”
Finally, the nurse wheeled over another IV bag.
Unlike the first one, this one contained the chemotherapy medicine.
Grace paused before connecting it.
“This medication will slowly enter your bloodstream over the next few hours. During that time we’ll keep checking on you. If you feel dizzy, itchy, short of breath, or uncomfortable in any way, tell us immediately.”
Emily swallowed hard.
She nodded.
The nurse opened the line.
Drop by drop…
The medicine began flowing through the tubing.
Emily watched the clear liquid travel slowly toward her arm.
She felt…
Nothing.
She had expected pain.
Instead, there was only silence.
Mr. Smith pulled his chair closer and gently squeezed her hand.
“You’ve already crossed the hardest part.”
She looked at him.
“I don’t feel anything.”
He smiled.
For the next hour, nurses checked her blood pressure and temperature regularly. One brought her water and crackers. Another offered a warm blanket when the room began to feel cold.
As the medicine continued to drip into her veins,Emily leaned back in the chair.
She watched the sunlight spill through the windows.
For the first time since her diagnosis, she allowed herself to believe that there was hope.
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