Never Say Goodbye (22 page)

‘What are you in such a bad mood about this morning?’ Jeff wanted to know as she brought in his cuppa.

‘Nothing. I’m fine, just a bit hassled about how we’re going to get through the week. We might have to go to one of those loan shops . . .’

‘Don’t even think about it,’ he cut in darkly. ‘A bunch of charlatans if ever there was one, and once you’re in hock to them you’re never out of it. Remember what happened to your mother.’

She did, only too well, since Eileen’s runaway debt had ended her up in court, and then hospital, she’d got herself into such a state over it.

‘There are better places these days than the one she went to,’ she told him. ‘It’s all regulated now . . .’

‘That’s what they want you to think, but take it from me, they’ll bleed us as dry as a witch’s tit and still they’ll come back for more.’

Afraid he was right, she said, ‘So what are we going to do? I’m not sure we can put food on the table after today, unless you’ve got a couple of fivers stashed away.’ He did that sometimes, and produced them just when she thought they were about to go under.

‘Get jobs, that’s what we’re going to do.’

Not arguing, since there was no point, she headed back into the kitchen, washed up the few dishes soaking in the bowl and felt her insides clench with nerves as she checked the time.

If she was like this about meeting the oncologist, what the heck kind of state was she going to be in when it came time for the treatment?

‘Where are you going?’ Jeff asked as she went to put on her coat.

‘Into town,’ she replied. ‘I saw a job advertised in one of the bucket and spade shops when I was passing on Friday.’

‘So why didn’t you go in then?’

‘Because it was six o’clock and they’d already closed.’

‘You should have gone on Saturday,’ he grunted, knowing full well that she hadn’t because she’d been visiting Ryan. ‘You’ve got to act fast these days.’

‘I know, I know. Good luck at the jobcentre. Give me a ring if there’s any news.’

‘Have you got enough for your bus fare?’

Digging out her purse to make sure, she counted four pounds forty-three, enough to leave her with almost a pound by the time she got home again, and giving him a quick kiss she let herself out of the door.

No lunch for me, she was thinking, as she pulled up her hood to hurry through the rain, but as she was unlikely to have much of an appetite anyway, she wasn’t too worried. What was bothering her more was the start of the lies; there was no vacancy in a bucket and spade shop, she only wished there was. Except, given what she was facing, she wouldn’t be able to go for it, any more than she could consider taking needy children into their home.

To her surprise, when she got to the clinic, in spite of the crowd in the waiting room it was only a few minutes before she was being called in to see the oncologist. As she was led down the stark white corridor with all its medical bits and pieces and noticeboards she spotted Mr Beck coming out of his office, but before he noticed her he disappeared inside again. He probably wouldn’t have recognised her anyway, considering how many people he saw in a day. She didn’t blame him for not knowing all his patients, it was only to be expected when there were so many, and maybe there was some comfort in anonymity. If someone stood out it would be because things were pretty bad, or they weren’t coping very well, so she didn’t want to be one of those who stood out.

‘Here we are,’ the nurse announced as they reached an open door. ‘Dr Pattullo, this is Mrs Clark.’

A smartly dressed woman with girlishly dainty features and a neat blonde bob looked up from her desk and smiled. ‘Hello Mrs Clark,’ she said warmly, getting to her feet. ‘Do come in. I hope you didn’t get too wet on your way here. The rain’s dreadful this morning, isn’t it?’

‘They’re saying it’s going to last all month,’ Josie told her as the nurse closed the door behind her. The room wasn’t unlike Mr Beck’s with its desk, examination couch, workstation and sink, but no computer here, and only one window.

Once she was settled in the visitor’s chair, Dr Pattullo sat back in her own and regarded her with friendly eyes. ‘Before we start, is there anything you’d like to ask me?’ she invited.

Unprepared for the question, Josie simply shook her head.

‘You understand the results of your biopsy, and that Mr Beck and I have decided you should have chemotherapy to shrink the tumour before he operates?’

This time Josie was able to nod. ‘He said he’d schedule things so I can go to my daughter’s wedding,’ she told her, thinking it was better to get that in now in case it ended up forgotten. ‘It’s in August, so still a way off yet.’

Dr Pattullo smiled. ‘I’m sure that won’t be a problem,’ she assured her, and opening up the file with Josie’s name on the front she made a note before continuing.

There was either something strangely hypnotic about her voice, or Josie’s near-sleepless night started to catch up with her, because for the next few minutes she seemed to drift in and out of what she was being told. It was mainly about where the oncology centre was located, and how important it was to be on time for her appointments. It was when they got on to her possible hair loss, and other side effects, that Josie wished with all her heart she could stand up and say she’d changed her mind, she didn’t want to go through with it after all.

Don’t think about your hair now, just don’t
, she told herself fiercely, but how could she not when it was the only truly lovely thing about her? She wasn’t vain or anything, she just knew that without her hair she’d be ugly, and what woman wanted to be that? What man wanted to be married to it? Imagine how it was going to be for Jeff, having to look at her. She wasn’t sure how much he fancied her these days as it was, and he’d never been able to cope with illness of any sort. He hadn’t even come to see her when she’d been so poorly after giving birth to Ryan.

He was going to hate having a bald wife.

She’d have to make sure she got a good wig, but they cost a lot and how was she going to afford it?

After examining her Dr Pattullo told her to get dressed again, and began talking about receptors and oestrogen and things she’d have to look up later, because nothing seemed to be going in properly this morning.

Pull yourself together, Josie. Listen, and you might learn something.

‘. . . we’ll start the FEC treatment next Monday,’ Dr Pattullo was telling her, ‘and bring you back every three weeks for two more doses. I’ll give you a fact sheet explaining what’ll happen before and during the session, along with details of the drugs we’ll be using. I can tell you now, if you like, but fluorouracil, epirubicin and cyclophosphamide aren’t easy to say, never mind take in.’ She gave a smile.

Josie tried to do the same. ‘What happens after that?’ she asked, her voice sounding strangely hollow inside her head.

‘That’s when we’ll switch you over to another drug called Docetaxel. Again you’ll have three doses at three-weekly intervals. Don’t worry, we’ve prepared a package for you to take home containing all the information you’ll need about the drugs, how they’re administered, their possible side effects and other changes that might take place over the period. And Yvonne, the senior breast-care nurse, will have a chat with you before you leave.’

‘Am I . . . Am I going to be very ill?’ Josie wanted to know.

Dr Pattullo glanced down at her notes. ‘I’m not going to pretend that chemotherapy is easy to go through,’ she replied, looking up again. ‘What it’s doing essentially is trying to destroy any cancer cells in your body, but in so doing it’ll also harm many normal cells, for example in the bone marrow, digestive tract and hair follicles. This is what causes side effects such as reduced numbers of blood cells, nausea and hair loss. So to answer your question, everyone’s different in the way they react. Some are more able to cope with it than others. On the whole though, I’d say that at first you’re likely to make quite a quick recovery from the treatment. But over time it’ll become harder to bounce back quite so swiftly.’

Josie swallowed. ‘Is there any chance I won’t have any side effects at all?’ she ventured, feeling ludicrously naïve even to hope for it.

‘As I said, everyone’s different, but I think you should prepare yourself for there being some. You’ll be given anti-sickness drugs during your treatments to help prevent nausea; if you find it happening anyway there are several alternatives, so they can always be changed. Yvonne will go through everything with you before you leave, and the chemotherapy nurses will be able to advise you on any concerns you might have during the treatment. There are also a number of extremely helpful and well-informed charitable organisations such as Macmillan and Breast Cancer Care who provide help and support from experienced professionals, free of charge. You’ll find their information sheets in your package, including websites and helpline numbers. You don’t have to be on your own through this, Mrs Clark, no one does, and reaching out to those who’ve already been through it, or who are currently undergoing treatment themselves, can take a lot of the fear out of things. So I recommend you get in touch with at least one of the charities and/or a local support group.’

Though Josie nodded, she wasn’t sure that she would. After all, it was hardly a club she wanted to belong to. Best to get started, was her feeling, have it over and done with as quickly as possible so she could put it behind her and get on with her life.

For the next hour or so Josie sat in the waiting room watching dozens of women coming and going, none of whom probably wanted to belong to this club any more than she did. Even so, most of them seemed far more accepting of it than she’d noticed before, which was making her feel pathetic and ashamed and as though she wasn’t made of strong enough stuff and would never fit in. It might have helped if she’d had a friend or relative to lean on, the way most of them did. She’d been OK about coming on her own before, but for some reason it was feeling different today. She’d have really liked someone to hold her hand right now, the way a couple of blokes were doing for their wives or girlfriends. One even kept kissing his partner’s head, which was resting on his shoulder. How lovely of him to do that. Jeff had never been one for public displays of affection; she always joked she was lucky she’d got him to kiss her on their wedding day.

How was he going to take this? It was going to come as a horrible shock. Somehow she’d have to work out how and when to tell him.

Feeling her phone vibrating she pulled it from her bag, and finding a text from him she suddenly wanted to cry.

Kev Allsop’s broken his arm so taking over his taxi for couple of weeks. How’s it going in town? Job still vacant?

Having no choice but to continue the lie, after all she could hardly break this to him by text, she sent a message back saying
Job gone, but looking round in case something else crops up. Good news about taxi, but not for Kev.

What would he say if he knew where she really was?

Your wife has cancer.

‘Josie?’

She looked up to find the nurse, Yvonne, smiling down at her.

‘Would you like to come with me?’ Yvonne encouraged.

As she followed her to the Visitors’ Information Room, Josie wondered why she hadn’t already just got up and left. There had been plenty of time to, and it wasn’t as if this was where she wanted to be. She had her chemo appointment, and a bunch of brochures, so what was she still doing here?

‘So how did it go with Emma – Dr Pattullo?’ Yvonne asked, closing the door and waving Josie to one of the easy chairs that lined the walls.

‘OK I think,’ Josie replied, skirting the large coffee table that dominated the centre of the room. She couldn’t help noticing the boxes of tissues and wondering how many they went through in a week.

‘I expect you’ve a lot of questions now,’ Yvonne said, sitting down too, ‘so feel free to fire away, it’s what I’m here for.’

Josie glanced at her hands. What she really wanted to ask was how to break it to her husband, or how to make it easier for her children, but what she said was, ‘How long before I start losing my hair? I mean, please don’t think I’m shallow and all I care about is my looks . . .’

‘It’s OK,’ Yvonne came in gently, ‘it’s the biggest concern for most women.’

‘You mean bigger than losing a breast? You’d think that’s what I’d be most worried about, wouldn’t you, because Mr Beck said it’s probably going to happen.’ Tears were strangling her voice; suddenly she couldn’t bear it, any of it.

Passing her a tissue, Yvonne said, ‘It’s a horrible shock, I know, and it never seems to sink in all at once.’

‘I’m fine,’ Josie sobbed, dabbing her eyes. ‘Honest. I just . . . Oh, look at me, making a fool of myself. There’s no point getting in a state, is there? It’s not going to change anything.’

‘The way you’re feeling is completely understandable, so don’t be too hard on yourself. We’re here to support you in any way we can.’

‘Thank you. It’s really kind of you. I just wish I could think of something sensible to ask, but the nicer you are to me the worse I seem to get.’

As they laughed together, Yvonne reached for the folder she’d brought in with her. ‘This is for you to take home,’ she explained. ‘Read it at your leisure. You’ll probably find it has most of the answers you’re looking for, but anything else you need to ask, just give me a call. My number’s on the front.’

‘Actually, there is something,’ Josie told her. ‘I remember reading once about a kind of hat or helmet that’s supposed to stop you losing your hair. Does it exist?’

Yvonne nodded. ‘It’s called the cold cap, but I’m afraid we don’t have one here at the KRI. Even if we did, it doesn’t offer a guarantee of no loss, because some women end up losing their hair anyway, while others find the coldness difficult to cope with.’

Unable to imagine it could be any worse than being bald, Josie asked, ‘What about wigs? The trouble is, I can’t afford one.’

‘I’m sure we can get you one on the NHS.’ Yvonne rummaged in the folder and came out with a booklet entitled
Breast Cancer and Hair Loss.
‘There, this will tell you everything you need to know. Are you on Income Support of any kind?’