"Who Would've Thought Getting Knocked Down Would End So Well?"

The sun streamed through the Venetian blinds of the spacious bedroom. Lemony bars of sunlight filtered through its narrow slats, warming my cool, exposed skin. Opening my eyes slowly, I watched as a scattering of dust particles danced haphazardly in the morning light.

Though I attempted to occupy my mind with something - anything - other than the inevitable, I could not run away from it; today would be my first day of chemotherapy. I was terrified. I continued to struggle with my abrupt diagnosis though I had come a long way since then. I accepted the cards I had been dealt but felt that I had been cheated by the dealer.

With an overwhelmed sigh, I turned onto my side, facing Billie Joe’s side of the bed. Finding nothing but a mound of pillows and his portion of the duvet, I knew he was preparing his first of many cups of coffee for the day. Still unready to face the world just yet, I flipped onto my stomach and wrapped the soft cover around my tired body.

The alarm clock screeched from the bedside table, shamelessly forcing me from my safety blanket. Pulling the duvet from my body, I rose from the bed; I moved about in a daze. Slowly moving towards the bathroom, I turned on the shower. Standing under the steady stream of warm water, I attempted to mentally prepare for what I knew would be an arduous day. Quickly extinguishing the water supply, I wrapped a towel around my body and positioned myself in front of the mirror. Wiping away the excess condensation from the shiny surface, I placed my hands on either side of the porcelain sink, leaning ever closer to my reflection.

I looked as healthy as ever. My face was round and my cheeks rosy. I was in shape; I ate well and I exercised. To a stranger, I would appear to be a specimen of good health. Looks could be so deceiving. With mild disgust, I turned away from the lie, moving into the bedroom. Picking out a pair of black sweatpants and my favourite hoodie, I figured it would be more important to be comfortable than to make the effort to look nice. Besides, I was not in the mood.

Once dressed, I left the bedroom and headed towards the staircase. Looking downstairs, I spotted Billie Joe. He paced back and forth in the foyer. In one hand he gripped a cup of coffee while he ran the other hand through his mess of raven hair the way he did when he was worried. My eyes prickled with tears as I watched him; he had been trying to stay strong for me but he was starting to break down. I knew that this was hard on him. Watching him come apart, I knew that I had to try my hardest to beat this disease, for both of us. Dabbing at my eyes with the back of my hand, I noisily made my way down the stairs to alert Billie Joe of my presence. His attitude changed immediately.

“Hey you,” he said lovingly, moving towards me and kissing me sweetly on the lips.

“Hey,” I replied after kissing him back. “Ready to go?”

He chuckled to himself. “No. Are you?”

I shook my head sadly, looking straight into his olive orbs. “I’ll never be ready.”

Biting his lip unconsciously, he nodded, preparing himself for what would inevitably be a difficult day. “We can be ready together.” He said shakily, on the verge of tears.

“Let’s go.” I replied, reaching for his hand as we ventured into the unknown.

“Don’t worry, Amelia, I’m going to take care of you. And I will explain everything as we go along, ok?”

“Ok,” I said as I nodded nervously. Marissa, my nurse, had managed to somewhat ease my nerves with her calm, sincere words and friendly smile. She reminded me of my own sister, with her unruly curly hair and chatty nature. She had recognized Billie Joe right away but did not press him for too many details about Green Day since the circumstances of our meeting were not the most pleasant.

"Hey, did I mention that I'm in a band myself?" Marissa asked as she proceeded to take my blood pressure. "Our band is called Triple A, but the ‘A’ spelled 'e-h' because we're Canadian." I could not help but grin. She told us about a few shows they had performed and some of the mishaps they had encountered. Billie Joe continued to chat with the somewhat star-struck nurse as she prepared me for chemo.

I appreciated her attempt to distract me with stories about her band that would have been entertaining under other circumstances. She was patient with me though I was less than pleasant and tried her best to make me feel as comfortable as possible. Though I hated to admit it, I was not sure what I would have done without her.

Not long after Marissa had excused herself to retrieve the medical instruments required for the procedure, Dr. Stein stepped into the room. For some reason, I was comforted by her presence. She explained that I would be receiving two medications intravenously and I would take one orally during the week, at home. She told me that I was likely to feel nauseous throughout the duration of my treatments and to expect many other possible side effects.

"Side effects such as?" I asked, worried.

“Well, you will most likely lose your hair.”

Though I was wary of the other side effects, I was most affected by the possibility of total hair loss. I was not at all vain, however, the idea of being bald shook me to the core. I knew I would not feel attractive; I probably would not even look like a woman. I was afraid that Billie Joe would no longer find me attractive. The possibility of losing him scared me more than anything.

I must have looked frightened because Billie Joe rubbed my arm lovingly. “It’ll grow back, Amy.”

I nodded slowly, unsure of what to say or how to voice my fears, my insecurities. Once Dr. Stein had left, Marissa came back to administer the toxic chemicals into my body. Gripping onto Billie Joe’s outstretched hand, I closed my eyes as the chemicals began to flow through my body. Billie Joe remained by my side the entire time.

Once the treatment was complete, Marissa returned to remove the IVs from my sore arms. Feeling completely drained of energy, Billie Joe helped me stand and I leaned against him for support. I had never in my life felt as weak or as nauseous as I did at that moment. Resting my free hand against my abdomen, I prayed that what little food I had in my stomach would remain there.

After returning home, I felt worse than before; in addition to my previous symptoms, I experienced terrible chills that caused my entire body to shake uncontrollably.

“How are you feeling, Amelia?” Billie Joe asked, concern dripping from his every word.

“I think I’m going to take a hot shower to try to rid myself of these chills” I replied, avoiding the question somewhat. He nodded. I knew he did not truly want the answer. In all honesty, I felt as though the chemo had done more harm than good. Enduring wave after wave of nausea and crippling pain, I was about ready to throw in the towel - and it was only the first day of many. Hoping that a shower could help rejuvenate my ailing body, I parted ways with Billie Joe who headed towards the kitchen to make lunch so he could force me to eat - as directed by Dr. Stein.

Moving slowly, I approached the ample staircase; grabbing the smooth, metallic railing, I hoisted myself up a few steps, moving ever closer to my destination. Looking to the summit, I sighed inwardly at the newly difficult task. Step by step I mounted the endless staircase, summoning every last bit of energy I could muster. Finally reaching the top, I felt weaker than before; my body had fought against me the entire way and was now rebelling against the strain I had put myself through. I leaned against the banister for a moment to catch my breath. Moving down the hallway, my hands grazed the walls as a means of support for my faltering form. An indescribable sensation overtook my body and I knew that I would not make it to the shower just yet; first I needed to rest.

Making my way to the bed I shared with Billie Joe, I collapsed onto the soft, welcoming material. Resting my head against the thick, fluffy pillow, my body succumbed to my fatigue. Needing to rest for a few minutes, I closed my heavy eyelids. Immediately I felt better than I had all day; the dizziness was gone as well as some of the nausea and I was eternally grateful.

I awoke to the shrill, piercing cry of the telephone. Squinting in the still brightly lit bedroom, my hands clumsily grazed the bedside table in an attempt to extinguish the obnoxious interruption. Without warning, Billie Joe leaned over me, grabbed the cordless phone and turned it on.

“Hello?” He responded groggily, stifling a yawn.

“Oh, hey Tre.”

While they chatted, I wrapped myself tightly in my blanket, my safe cocoon. I did not pay much attention to their conversation which, at least on Billie Joe’s end, consisted of a lot of uh-huhs and yeahs. After hanging up the phone and placing it back onto the bedside table, Billie Joe stretched lazily from next to me. Turning my body so we could face one another, I watched my fiancé lovingly, taking in his deeply green eyes, the dark stubble jutting out from his warm, creamy skin, his mess of raven hair and the many other attributes that I had always taken for granted.

“What?” he asked, smirking at the manner in which I eyed him. His voice was raspy from having just woken.

I shrugged. “Thank you.” I said, thinking about the experiences we had gone through together.

His dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Thank me for what?”

“Everything.” I whispered, my emotions bubbling inside, threatening to overflow and consume me. I swallowed back the lump forming in my throat, not wanting to cry. “You’ve been there for me in so many instances, supporting me and helping me with my problems.” I paused for a moment to gather my thoughts. Billie Joe remained silent, sensing that there was more that I needed to express.

“You’ve always supported me and now I’m so sick and you’re still here and-” I burst into tears.

Billie Joe wrapped his hands around my own, lowering them from in their position in front of my face.

“Amelia, what’s this about? Where else would I be? I love you Amelia and I always will.” He lifted my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. His eyes were sad though he tried to be hopeful. “I’m in this for the long haul. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. And we will beat this disease. Cancer is a curable thing, Amelia. We just have to try to stay positive.” Moving closer, he wrapped his arms around my body, holding me tightly against him.

I knew Billie Joe tried his best to believe his words but I saw fear in his eyes. It was at that moment I realized that we both feared the same outcome: losing the other.