The Drip

The Drip

D. A. Ratliff

As the new experimental medicine flowed into me, I wondered if it would be enough or too much. My doctors were optimistic, but I had gotten to know them better than I ever wanted to and learned they were kind, compassionate, and prone to optimism. I suppose they had to be positive in the face of failure, or they couldn’t go on, and their patients wouldn’t either. So, I lay here in this stark room, the love of my life sitting next to me, dressed in sterile clothing, because if I got an infection, I would surely die. So, I lie here, listening to the drip, drip, drip of chemicals flowing into my body. Those drips became a metronome, and music flowed through my soul.

-- Craig’s Diary

~~~

Terri closed Craig’s diary, holding it against her chest, chin resting on the leather edges. Their sons, Jerimiah and Micah, presented the leather dairy to Craig when he was diagnosed with a rare blood cancer. They knew their dad loved to write down random thoughts to later turn into lyrics. The book was bringing them all peace.

Terri glanced at her phone, encased in a plastic bag. It was a quarter to one. Her best friend, Marla, was coming by for lunch. She patted Craig’s hand, stepped into the hallway, stripped off the sterile gown, gloves, mask, and cap, and headed toward the family lounge, where she had put her things in a locker. Terri took out a small overnight bag and entered the visitor’s bathroom to freshen up. She splashed water on her face, noticing that the dark circles under her eyes were becoming increasingly noticeable. She had tried to rest, but the world would have to put up with how she looked now. She was a lot of years past being the hot wife of the hot rock star.

“Terri, you in here?”

Terri stepped out of the bathroom. “Yes, but I look like something the cat dragged in.”

Marla scoffed. “Nothing a little lipstick couldn’t help. Come on. I bribed a guard to let me double park while I came to get you. Taking you off hospital grounds for lunch. Now, let’s go.”

The restaurant was a quaint little tea shop that served tomato aspic and finger sandwiches, and what Terri discovered was the best bean soup she’d had. She gazed about the dining room. The decor was eclectic, with low lighting, and most of all, it was quiet. There was no chatter from the hallway, no annoying overhead announcements, and no low-pitch sound from the infusion pump as it dripped medicine into Craig. She sighed. That wasn’t true. The clicking sound the pump made every time it dripped never silenced in her head.

Terri realized Marla had chatted away and pulled herself back to reality.

“Terri, are you okay? You were really far away there.”

“Sorry. I’m fine, at least as fine as possible. Just a lot on my mind.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“Not much to say. Craig hasn’t responded to treatment, and we were about at the end of what could be done. We were beginning the task of reconciling our fate when one of his young doctors....”

“The one that is such a fan of the rock group?”

“Yes, that one, Dr. Parker. According to Dr. Martinez, head of Craig’s team, Parker wouldn’t give up. He kept going through research, making calls and found this small pharmaceutical company researching Craig’s form of cancer. They had what they thought was a possible cure. So, after a lot of scrambling and paperwork with the FDA, the drug was approved as an experimental drug, and five patients across the US were put on the drug.”

“Do you know if it’s working?”

“His doctors are optimistic but won’t speculate.”

As they finished lunch, the friends discussed their kids. Marla dropped Terri off at the hospital and promised they would have lunch again soon.

~~~

I have been in isolation for weeks. Doctors finally admitted that they were being overcautious but wanted no complications. This drug took a toll on me, and most days, I was too exhausted to write or play games online with the boys.

I have felt better for the last few days— quite different from the prior months. I’m weak, but a calmness washed over me as if my body were telling me to relax. A calmness washed over me—I like that line. That would make a good lyric or, at least, the start of one. Well, that made me laugh. I haven’t wanted to write lyrics in a long time. I might be getting better.

Or maybe not. Terri just walked in crying, and the docs with her look like they are, too. Better go. I might not be writing those lyrics after all.

-- Craig’s Diary

~~~

Terri leaned on the foot of the bed, hands gripping the footboard. This was the day. She stared out the window at the view that had been her view of the world for so long and was now permanently etched in her mind. Behind her, she heard her sons murmuring as they packed their dad’s things.

Micah touched her on the shoulder. “We’re all done, Mom. Ready to go?”

She nodded and, with one last look at the empty bed, left the room that had been home for so long.

The corridor was filled with people, balloons, and laughter. Marla and her husband rushed to hug Terri as she joined the crowd surrounding Craig. Although he was still weak, his color was excellent, and his smile broad. This time, he spoke his thoughts.

“Words have been my livelihood. I wrote songs with my bandmates, toured the world, and shared that music with fans. But I now know the true meaning of being a fan. It’s respect, love, and honor for the joy and celebration of life that someone brings to another. So, I am a fanatical fan of this amazing team of doctors, nurses, researchers, the hospital staff, and all who have cared for me. To be in remission after all these agonizing months is a glory from God, given to me through these amazing people. I can only say thank you as I ring this bell.”

Craig grabbed the rope with a broad smile, and the bell rang, bringing a noisy celebration to the unit’s lobby.

A while later, as they passed through the hospital doors, Craig in a wheelchair holding his diary, Terri realized the constant drip she heard in her head every moment was gone. Only the voice of the man she loved sounded in her ears.

Life goes on.

_______________________________

Authors Note:

The image prompt chosen for this What’s Next?, a writing exercise on the Facebook group Writers Untie!, was based on the poster’s admiration for Scottish rock star Mike Peters of The Alarm. Peters has been battling cancer for thirty years and has raised millions of dollars for research and assistance for cancer patients and their families. He was honored by the late Queen Elizabeth II for his efforts.

He is currently undergoing an experimental treatment to fight his rare and aggressive form of leukemia. We can only hope the treatment is successful.

This prompt also touched me because of a Facebook friend who remained alive several years after a catastrophic diagnosis. Her team of physicians never gave up on her. Experimental treatments gave her more time with her daughter and allowed her to do what she loved, such as writing. She is gone now, but what her doctors learned from her case will benefit others for years to come.