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

It’s funny, the way the sun kisses everything it touches. From the radiance poured upon the timid marigolds tucked between the blades of freshly cut grass to the brilliance brought to the surface of the crystal clear water of the swimming pool, I could sense the sun’s life-giving warmth. Slathering a generous amount of sun screen to my now very sensitive skin, I lounged comfortably on a lawn chair under the protective shade of a large beach umbrella, enjoying the near perfect weather. I could not have asked for a better day to spend outdoors with my closest friends.

Billie Joe and Mike stood near the barbecue grill, discussing something I could not follow. Self-appointed chefs for the afternoon, the two men inspected a large slab of meat before tossing it carelessly onto the grill. Tre, who had voiced his disinterest in the barbecue process, could be found in and around the swimming pool with Joey and Jakob.

“Do you need anything to drink, Amy?” Drew asked, rising from his seat and heading towards the kitchen.

“No thanks, I’m okay for now.”

Drew had been overprotective since finding out about my illness. Always ensuring that my needs were met and that I was comfortable, my best friend tried his best to keep me feeling as well as was possible. Though at times his attentive nature could be excessive, I could appreciate the motives behind his actions; he meant well.

I was approaching the halfway point of my first - and hopefully last - round of chemotherapy; the past few weeks had been difficult to say the least. Billie Joe and the rest of our friends had experienced the stress, anxiety, fear and other emotions that were part and parcel of these demanding times. It had been a veritable emotional roller coaster and I wanted nothing more than to take a break from the ride, if even for a few hours. So much had happened in the past few weeks...

Saturday morning; most Californians were stretching lazily in their beds, having earned their deserved rest after a hectic work week. Some would have already started on their weekend chores, or perhaps had gone shopping. I envied these people. Sure, their lives were stressful too but they could abandon their troubles, if only for a few hours a week. A few hours would feel like forever to me.

On this Saturday morning Billie Joe and I were approaching the hospital where I would be subjected to my second chemotherapy session. After the first treatment and range of side effects that followed, I was less than eager, to put it mildly. My stomach clenched painfully at the mere thought. It could only get better, right?

Walking towards the sliding doors at the main entrance of the hospital, I knew I would rather be doing anything besides what I needed to do at this moment. I stopped walking; Billie Joe halted soon after. Staring at the doors with what I knew was a defeated look, I shook my head slowly. I did not want to go in. I knew that these treatments were meant to help and not hinder but I could not help but wonder what my life would have been like had I never started chemo in the first place. I was beginning to feel sorry for myself.

Billie Joe watched me watching the entrance. Looking back and forth from my face to the automatic sliding doors he knew that something was happening; what it was, he did not know. Positioning his body between myself and the hospital, he watched me with his piercing emerald eyes. His hand rested gently on the side of my neck while he stroked my cheek with the rough pad of his thumb. As we stood together, everything faded around us, nothing else mattered. That’s when I knew that he understood my hesitance. I nodded slowly, accepting that this was where I needed to be right now. Reaching for my hand once more, Billie Joe and I moved towards the oncology department at Highland General Hospital.

That had been a difficult morning. I’d remained silent for the majority of that chemotherapy session; I’d had a lot on my mind. Chemotherapy had proved to be physically, emotionally, and mentally draining. Another memorable, albeit unpleasant, moment was when I began to notice the change in my physical appearance.

I stood in front of the mirror for a long time, staring at someone I barely recognized. The once beautiful, healthy twenty-seven year old I had once known no longer existed. She had since been replaced by someone else, someone I did not know. My dark eyes hinted at a secret sadness and predominated my features now that my face had grown so thin. My cheekbones now protruded, sharpening my facial features. Wrapping my arms around my weakened body, I was startled by my newly gaunt fame. I felt like I was disappearing. I could not believe I had once fussed about being overweight. I only wished that I could be that healthy woman again. Sighing inwardly, I ran a hand carelessly through my hair, something I had taken for granted. This time was different, however. With my hand came a handful of hair.

Watching myself in the mirror holding a clump of my own hair, I felt as though I was watching someone else. This could not be me.

“No” I whispered over and over again, the reality of the situation coming in waves, crashing over me and threatening to suffocate my already frail self. Backing away from the mirror, I pressed my body against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. Sliding slowly downwards, I settled onto the cold, hard floor.

This was it. I was losing my hair. It wouldn’t be much longer before I was completely bald. Hot, angry tears began to stream down my face before I could compose myself. Curled up in the corner of the bathroom, I cried. Burying my face in my hands, my body shook as I sobbed. This had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. I had been trying to stay strong and remain positive for I knew that it had been proven that positive patients were more likely to survive, and thrive. I knew this. But at that moment, I just needed to cry. I am not sure how long I remained on the floor but some time later I heard a faint knock on the bathroom door. It was Billie Joe.

“Hello? Amelia, are you in there?”

Billie Joe’s voice wafted through the crack in the door. Clearing my throat, I tried my best to mask the fact that I was crying. Through strangled tears, I whispered a reply.

“Yeah. Come in.”

The door swung slowly open as he walked carefully into the chamber. Spotting me on the ground he rushed over, fear and concern taking over.

“Are you all right? Should I take you to the hospital?” Afraid that I had collapsed, Billie Joe bent down, preparing to pick me up and carry me to the hospital, if necessary.

“Billie, I’m fine, put me down” I mumbled, refusing to look at my fiancé.

I motioned to the adjoining bedroom as he placed me back onto my own two feet. Moving into the other room, my tears continued to flow. He watched as I walked to the bed and sat down gingerly, bringing my knees up to my chest. Situating himself next to me, he wrapped an arm around my tired body. We sat in silence for a few minutes; Billie Joe did not press me for information but rather waited until I was ready to talk.

We sat and talked and cried together for hours. We shared our hopes and fears with one another; I could not remember a time in which we had ever been so honest with one another. Billie Joe had also broken down. He told me about his own father’s losing battle with cancer. He voiced his fears about losing me.

I confessed to him that I was afraid he would leave me. I explained that I was afraid I was - or would become - a burden. He reminded me about a conversation we’d shared so long ago. We’d been at a nearby park, not long after having just met. I had just explained to Billie Joe why I had left Montreal and had no desire to return. I remembered his words and the sincerity that went along with it:“I care about you so much, Amelia, nothing concerning you will ever be a burden. Remember that.”

Billie Joe told me that he’d meant every word he’d said that day and every day since then.

I had also admitted my most overwhelming fear: dying. It was hard to admit, and even harder to discuss.

By the end of our conversation I was exhausted. My tears had finally subsided and I wanted nothing more than to sleep. Situating myself underneath the comforter laying neatly on the bed, I pulled Billie Joe under the covers with me. I felt his strong arms wrap around me tightly, my personal safety blanket, my life preserver.

I was abruptly shaken from my thoughts when the sensation of chilly water splashed against my bare legs. Looking towards the swimming pool in order to identify the culprit, I spotted Tre walking away, whistling conspicuously. Squinting playfully at the thirty-five year old drummer, I watched as he approached my chaise longue.

Tre was soaking wet. His deep blue swimming trunks clung to his body as the dripping water formed a quickly growing puddle at his feet. Brushing his wet, ginger coloured hair from his round, friendly face, Tre’s eyes shifted back and forth from myself to the chair upon which I was currently seated.

“Tre, what are you looking at?” I asked, somewhat confused.

Tre tapped his chin while his cobalt eyes turned upwards in mock contemplation. “Well,” he began, “I think that chair is big enough for both of us.”

“You know there are plenty of empty seats, right?”

He shook his head, regarding me as though I was the crazy one. “What’s the fun in that?” Before I could respond, Tre had already made room for himself on my chaise longue.

“See? Isn’t this so much better?” he asked and smiled, his cool skin pressing against my own. Rolling my eyes playfully, I shoved him gently but knew I would be sharing my seat for a while.

Tre had been a true friend. Almost every day he could be found at the house spending time with me. He had proved to be my rock.

I was not always pleasant company. There were times when I did not have the strength to put on the facade of being happy all the time. There were times when I did not have the strength to even get out of bed. I was sure that these were the days in which I was the most unbearable. These were the days when Tre seemed to sense my dire need for his company and attempts to brighten my mood.

The doorbell rang at the unholy hour of eight o'clock. Echoing throughout the house, the chimes were proceeded by a barrage of loud, pounding knocks on our front door. Groaning, Billie Joe unsheathed himself from the comforting warmth of the bed and stood unsteadily.

"Whoever that is better have a damn good reason for coming so early" He grumbled bitterly, already in the hallway and moving slowly towards his destination. When the front door was opened, I could barely hear the muffled voices so I wrapped myself tightly in the duvet and closed my eyes, hoping to get back to sleep. Obviously, this outcome was not in the cards because minutes later, Tre burst into the bedroom with a gleam in his eyes and the energy of ten men.

"Gooooood morning, Amelia!" Tre belted out, barely able to contain himself.

Covering my head with the blanket, I groaned, hoping he would take the hint. Walking to my side of the bed, the thirty-five year old drummer pulled the blanket from my body and threw it to the floor. Glaring at him, he smiled innocently as though he'd done nothing wrong. Billie Joe chuckled.

"Why are you laughing?" I asked, "He woke you up too!"

"Yes," he began, "but I can go back to bed. He didn't come to see me." With that, Billie Joe picked up the blanket, still chuckling, and headed to Joey's bedroom to sleep.

"I'll remember that!" I yelled jokingly as he disappeared from the room.

I turned back to Tre. "Why are you here so early?" Tre was a frequent visitor, usually visiting me and not Billie Joe. Today, however, had been his earliest visit yet.

He shrugged, pushing me over so he could sit on the bed. "Couldn't sleep" he replied simply, pulling at the thread on the hem of histotalposer t-shirt.

No longer fussing with his shirt, he focused his attention on me. "How are you feeling?" he suddenly asked, concern dripping from his every word.

"I'm feeling pretty drained today actually. I've seen better days."

As soon as the words had left my mouth I wished I could have taken them back. A look of guilt spread across Tre's face at having woken me.

"Tre, it's ok that you came, I love your visits. I would rather have a bit less sleep but have a great day with you."

"You sure?" he asked, hesitant.

"Absolutely." Smiling, Tre put an arm around my shoulders in a friendly manner.

Tre always found the most random and yet most interesting things to do. The majority of the time we spent together was used to chat, however, when I felt better than usual, Tre took advantage of these times. Our activities could include, but not be limited to, watching and identifying cloud shapes, going on mini scavenger hunts, karaoke, even painting. The times when I was not physically, emotionally or mentally capable of leaving my bedroom, I would lie in bed knowing that Tre was lying beside me, keeping me company.

Catching me out of the corner of his eye, Tre noticed that I was grinning to myself.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

I shrugged. "I was just thinking about how good you've been to me."

"That's what friends are for, Amy" he replied, nudging me with his shoulder.

"Thank you." I replied, gazing into the calming sea of his eyes. I wanted him to realize how much I appreciated everything he had done for me.

"Any time" he replied, staring back at me. His expression made it crystal clear that he was aware of the emotional place from which my gratitude was expressed.

Settling back into the ample chair, I closed my eyes, taking in the warmth of the sunlight and the beauty of the day. Despite everything that had happened recently, I considered myself a fortunate person. I was blessed with unbelievable friends, and above all, a fiancé who loved me unconditionally, a man I would someday marry.

"Amelia? Could you join me in the kitchen for a moment?"

Rising from the chair, Tre embraced the opportunity to spread himself across my seat, now claiming it as his own.

"Finally!" he laughed as I headed into the house.

Sliding the screen door open, I slipped into the kitchen and found myself face to face with Billie Joe. Previously leaning against the center island, he moved slowly towards me. Reaching forward, he claimed my hands in his own; squeezing them gently in the warmth of his palms, Billie Joe peered into my eyes, smiling.

"I was thinking ..." he trailed off.

"Ok?" I looked into his sparkling emerald eyes, attempting to decipher the emotions that were being reflected therein.

"How about we get married sooner? Like … say... in a few weeks?"

I was excited but concerned at the same time. "Is this because we'll be receiving the results of my first round of chemo around that time? Do you think I'm going to die?" I knew that this was not the reaction he expected. To be honest, I did not expect such a morbid reaction myself; the words had come out of their own accord.

Billie Joe did not seem phased by my reaction which meant that he most likely contemplated the reality of the situation himself before suggesting this to me.

"The other day, we were lying in bed. You were asleep and I was holding you in my arms. I asked myself, 'what am I waiting for?' I love you, why shouldn't we be married. Besides, our honeymoon can coincide with the good news I'm anticipating from Dr. Stein."

Billie Joe eyed me carefully, attempting to gauge my reaction. It was a good idea. Besides, even if the idea had been produced out of a fear of my upcoming results, did it really matter? This man loved me and I loved him. He was right, why shouldn't we marry sooner?

"Billie Joe, let's get married!"