Shannan and I would take the LIRR to Penn Station. It was always an adventure for me. I hardly took mass transit. Shannan, however, was a pro. I would follow her lead. We would walk a short distance to Lakeview station or Mr. Booker would drive us to Rockville Centre. People were going to work. Disposable coffee cups, briefcases, totes, and knapsacks were everywhere. ◦ The journey into Manhattan was always uneventful. I paid close attention to the people. I always do on public transportation. The businessman is reading the Times or Wall Street Journal. Then there’s the young woman finishing up her makeup. I’m amazed at how she can apply mascara precisely on a moving train. Then there’s the young man who is either sleepy or pissed. Let’s not forget the four passengers who always sit together in those seats facing each other, chatting away—the book readers who are nodding out. ◦ Some people want to sleep. And, of course, everyone else is looking at their phone. Shann and I would talk, enjoy our phones, and even nap. I am a LIRR spouse, which entitles me to ride free when I show my pass. Shannan also.That was a benefit.

◦

We arrive at Penn Station. Shannan was leading the way. She navigates so well. She warned me that the pace at that time of the morning was fast. We often walked arm in arm. Sometimes we held hands. Shannan was very protective of me. ◦ Next, we took a subway. Shannan always wanted me to be seated. When there was a crowd waiting, Shann would go ahead of me once the doors opened. She would sit spread eagle. Then she closed her legs so I could sit. One time, a man was on to Shann. When I sat, he said,” Really? “With an attitude. The ride was short but tense to me. Everyone looked so unhappy. ◦

We got off at 57th Street and walked to Memorial Sloan Kettering. ◦ If there were time, we would grab some breakfast to go. Plus, I always packed snacks for Shann to munch on. ◦ When we got to the floor, Shann had to sign in. We would then find a cozy spot to sit and wait til somebody called her. There was a nice amount of people waiting. Some had that cancer look. Like Shannan, most didn’t. I couldn’t help but wonder what type of cancer each person had. I also thought, damn, I can’t believe Shannan is part of this population. ◦ As we sat there waiting, we talked, laughed and munched. We admired the beautiful plants that were displayed in the center of the waiting room. A volunteer would pass through the waiting area with a cart full of books and crafts. I’m not quite sure why that annoyed me. While waiting, I would have waves of thoughts I kept to myself. Like, are we really at Sloan’s waiting for Shannan to get chemo? How bizarre. I thought, well, let’s do what we have to do. Let Chemo do its thing so we eventually won’t ever have to come back. ◦ Finally, the nurse called her name. She showed us to the room. There was a comfy bed for Shann and a chair for me. They offered me a blanket and pillow. I asked for two pillows. I needed to make the chair comfy as well. There was a nice-sized TV with brackets extending from the ceiling. ◦ This infusion was the first round of chemo. Three different types of chemotherapy plus one immunotherapy was infused. This process took about 4 hours. Shannan and I would fall asleep. When the infusions were done, we‘d gather our things and head back. To do it all again the next day. ◦ After my initial request for two pillows, I would have two pillows and a blanket given to me without even asking.Staff was very nice. ◦ Shannan and I felt she would undergo chemo, and life would be great. I remember the two of us so happy that this chemo would not make her bald. ◦ So we trekked back and forth to the city. No hesitation. Let’s do what is needed to kill these cancer cells. ◦

Shannan was very astute in managing her care. She knew every name of the chemo that was infused. She was meticulous with scheduling her appointments and remembering all her lab and test results. ◦ Cat scans were done after each round of chemotherapy to see its effect on the cancer cells. ◦ Shannan and my expectations with this chemotherapy were straightforward. It will kill all the cancer, period. We never said, what if? ◦ We had an appointment with Dr. Green, her oncologist, to discuss the CAT scan results. ◦ Once again, we trekked to the city. Both of us were a bit anxious. Who wouldn’t be? ◦ We sat down in the office, waiting for Dr. Green. In the meantime, a surgeon came in. He introduced himself and sat on a chair. He said, “As you know, your CAT scan results….. I interrupted and said, “We don’t know the results. He looked stern and said, “You don’t know? Excuse me”. He got up and left. I felt that common courtesy was the reason he left. Of course, the oncologist is the one who has the initial talk with patients regarding results. ◦ After about 15 minutes, Dr. Green walked in, said hi, and sat down. She said that there was no easy way to say this. The chemotherapy and immunotherapy didn’t work. ◦ My baby girl just let out a scream. Noooooo. The door opened, and a woman peeked in and asked if everything was ok. I wanted to yell and say, no, it’s not ok. My daughter had to get over the initial shock of having fucking cancer, endure weeks of chemo, feeling shitty, her life disrupted, and now hope shattered. ◦ I held her close to me as we left Sloan. We went to Duane Reade to purchase sunglasses to hide her red, puffy eyes.

We decided to take an Uber home. Subways, trains, and lots of people wouldn’t do. ◦ On the ride home, I reassured Shannan that there’s a formula that will work. We had a long road ahead of us ◦ Chemo after chemo. Cat Scans that never really looked good. ◦ At the beginning, Dr. Green said that she doesn’t sugarcoat anything. I’m so glad I never asked what Shann’s prognosis was. ◦ I often wondered why we never saw that surgeon again. I never asked. Dr. Green said there was a meeting with her colleagues every Thursday to discuss the plan for each patient. When they discussed Shannan, the team may have determined that her cancer was spreading so quickly that surgery would be a waste of time. ◦

The subsequent chemotherapy Dr. Green wanted to try would, unfortunately, cause all of Shannan’s hair to fall out. So, to soften the blow, Shann’s hair stylist cut her hair short. It looked adorable. ◦ What sucked was not knowing when her hair would fall out. Would it be a week after starting the new chemo? Two weeks, three. A month? I don’t remember exactly how long after the new chemo when her hair came out. What I do remember is cutting it short did not soften the blow.

I often washed Shannan’s hair to relax her. I was washing her hair at the kitchen sink. This was the day. My heart sank, but as always, I never let Shannan know about these feelings. ◦ Shann’s hair had grown a lot since her haircut. As the water flowed through her hair, clumps came out in my hand. I put the hair on the side so she wouldn’t see the amount. ◦ When ever I washed Shannan’s hair, she asked me if any was coming out. This day was no different. She asked, and I said yes. She wondered if it was a lot. I said, kind of. By now, there was a massive pile of hair on the side, much less in the sink. Her head was bald with patches of hair. Still bent over, she opened her eyes, saw the hair in the sink, and said it wasn’t so bad. She then stood up with the towel wrapped around her head. She then noticed the mound of hair. She started to cry. I embraced her. There was not much else I could do. I wasn’t going to say those dreaded three words. It’ll grow back. Of course, it will. That’s not the issue. It’s having this damn disease and dealing with so many consequences. It’s awful. ◦ I asked my husband Booker to please come to the kitchen and bring his clippers. I made Shannan a cup of tea. She drank it while Booker shaved what was left on her head. ◦ After all that, this chemotherapy did not work either. ◦ Of course, Shannan looked quite gorgeous with a bald head.