Medicine
September 2nd
Remus didn't wake up hungover because he didn't sleep to begin with. Rather, he sat stiffly on his bed and glared at the large black suitcase that lay open on the floor, dominating the room. He has never used it before; his family didn’t travel. Remus could still see the stubborn dust that came from sitting in the back of the cupboard. He runs his hands through his hair. It shouldn't be this difficult, he doesn't understand why it is. The night sky is already beginning to give way to an orange tinge, so it is with a huff that Remus finally stands and moves towards his dresser.
He doesn't put much thought into it, just starts grabbing piles of folded clothes and throwing them into the bag. He shuffles into the bathroom, finding his soap and other toiletries, all while avoiding himself in the mirror. He remembers his mother telling him to bring some things to make the city feel like home, and although Remus couldn't imagine any object that could make a place like that feel like here, he still stuffs his favourite blanket in the remaining space and fills a backpack with books.
When he finishes, Remus hears his mother getting up. The low rumble of her own suitcase dragging along the hallway radiates throughout the house. He meets her at the front door and utters a gruff, “Morning, Mum,” causing her to look up and almost jump back at the sight of him.
“My goodness, you look awful,” she remarks, and Remus almost laughs. Partly because of the bluntness and partly because it’s true. However, Remus’ state is nothing new, yet his mother still acts as if this is the first time she’s seen him with dark circles under his eyes. She places a hand on his face, stroking his cheek. She has always worried about him, fussing over any scrapes or bruises that blister his skin, making sure everything is okay when he’s too angry or withdrawn. That was just who she was—caring and attentive.
“Did you sleep at all last night?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Well, I’ve got some sleeping pills. You can take them on the train.”
Remus nodded in reply, happy to have a way to make the trip go faster.
Lily and her mother are waiting for them outside in their white pickup. The suitcases are quickly thrown in the tray, and Remus joins Lily in the backseat. She gives a small smile, not much else. She looks just as tired as he is, and Remus hopes that it was just the party and not his doing. The hour drive to the station goes by quite quickly, with Remus listening to the mothers’ conversation and occasional laughs. At one point, he closes his eyes, resting his head on the window. Remus doesn't realise he’s drifted off until he is being shaken awake by Lily.
“We’re here,” she says softly.
Remus squints his eyes as they adjust to the bright morning light. Despite the early hour, the train station was very much alive—and very loud. People rush about, and conductors' voices boom loudly over the intercom. Electronic signs flash to display timetables and routes, and there is a distinct sour smell around the place that seems to follow him to the platform. When the train finally comes, he looks over to find his mother being hugged close by her friend, her small body almost completely hidden by Mrs. Evans’ grasp. Suddenly, Lily too wraps her arms around him, holding on tightly, and for once, Remus doesn't let go. He squeezes back, resting his chin on her head. She begins to shake lightly, and Remus doesn't want to pull away out of fear of seeing her tears.
“Hey,” he whispers, “I’m gonna be alright, okay? Promise.”
She shakes her head. “No, promise me that you’ll tell me if you’re not.”
“I promise, Lils.”
The train takes two and a half hours to reach the central metro station. Remus spends most of the trip in a troubled state of sleep. The tablets made his body tired and eyes droopy, if anyone happened to look over at him they’d have assumed he was flat out. But Remus was not unconscious. His mind was louder than usual and no amount of medication taken seemed to quiet it down. He thinks about the farm, if Pete and the other workers would be able to take care of everything. He thinks about his friends and his Mother, even the stupid rooster. He only thinks about the Hospital when he is truly on the cusp of sleep. He thinks of needles and surgeries and medicine. That always shocks him awake, leaving him in a never ending cycle of restlessness. By the end Remus gives up and starts staring out the window.
They aren't in the country anymore. Houses and buildings flash by, more scarcely at first, then tightly bound together revealing conformed streets littered with people. The train begins to slow as the first skyscrapers come into view, giving him time to look at the tall structures that seem to always loom over him whenever he’s in the city.
They wander about the station, with its grand high walls and ceiling. He hauls his bags up stairs and escalators, dodging businessmen, shoppers and other traveling families. They find a little cafe and his mother insists he eat a sandwich, which Remus only does because he’s too tired to argue with her. At noon they take the southern bus line. A pretty girl sits in front of them. She has smooth chestnut brown hair and Remus thinks the dress she’s wearing almost makes her look like a fairy.
The bus is tightly packed and seems to travel all over the city, letting hordes of people exit and enter through its doors. Remus’ heart skips a beat at the display of Hadlington Hospital and he gets up with his mother as the bus pulls into the stop. The pretty girl stands up with them. It's not until she turns around that Remus sees the large white bandage that covers her eye.
It takes Remus approximately half a second to realise that he hates Specialist Clinic E. As the doors slide open, the whole world seems to come crashing down at once. Surprisingly, the waiting lounge is full of people. Despite this, it’s all quiet and sad and so wrong. Remus is sure that everyone here isn't really meant to be here. The young girl with the pink beanie who sits by her parents should be out with her friends. The man in a wheelchair who hovers over a textbook should be at university, and the emaciated woman who sits with her husband and baby should be at the park playing in the nice weather. But they’re not. They're here. And so is Remus.
All of a sudden, he feels exhausted. His legs are floaty and his arms heavy. It feels a lot like working on the farm, but the familiarity only causes an ache to pain his chest. He doesn't really remember how they ended up at the front desk so fast, but the lady there is asking for his name and date of birth. She looks much too cheerful to be working in a young adult cancer center, with a toothy smile and full rosy cheeks, but there's something hiding behind her eyes, and Remus thinks he knows what it is.
They get their appointment number, E00162, on a little ticket and go to find a seat. Remus makes sure to pick the lounge furthest away from anyone.
E00162.
“Are you ok? You look pale, sweetheart—”
E00.
“—Do you need some water?”
162.
“Remus?”
E00162.
“Remus?”
“What!?”
She looks at him startled at first, then full of worry.
“Do you need a moment outside?” she whispers.
“What, no, I’m fine.”
He plays with the piece of paper with the number, folding it over and over again until it hurts his fingertips. They sit for a while in silence. The people waiting when he first entered leave, and new people come in and out of rooms. Eventually, his number pops up on the TV screen, and someone calls his name and tells him to follow.
The clinic is quite maze-like, and Remus feels dizzy by the time they turn the fourth corner. He doesn't expect anyone to be inside the room when he enters, but there is. There’s the oncologist from the emergency room, Dr. Poppy Pomfrey, who sits closest to the empty chairs. Remus recognises her kind face and neat blond hair streaked with gray. There are two other people: an older woman in an emerald green top and an even older man in a button-down.
“Hello, Remus,” Poppy smiles. “Hope, how are you?”
“Well, we’ve been better.” his Mother replies.
Poppy gives an understanding nod as they take a seat. The room is small. A desk sits in front of Poppy, and there's a small examination bed opposite in the corner that the other woman leans on. In between the two, in another chair probably brought in from another room, is the man.
“I would like to let everyone introduce themselves first, before I blabber on.”
The woman chuckles before saying “My name is Minerva. I’m the Clinical Nurse Consultant. If you two ever need anything and are unsure of who to ask, or if Poppy is unavailable, you can call me. I float around the center and regularly check in, so absolutely any questions, from medication to finicial support, find me and I’ll know who to get in touch with.”
The man beside her clears his throat.
“And I’m the Consultant, Albus Dumbledore. You won’t see much of me. I mainly work on the inpatient unit and see more intensive patients, but I work with the other doctors to determine your best plan of care.”
Remus gives a polite nod to each of them.
“So,” Poppy goes on, “as I told you over the phone, the biopsy results came back positive for Hodgkin's Lymphoma.”
Remus hates that word.
“Now I want you both to understand, this is quite a common and easily treatable disease, as far as cancers go. We won’t know what stage until the PET scan is completed. But the treatment for this, despite what stage, is chemotherapy. We just don’t know how long treatment will go for until we have results from the scan. Chemotherapy is delivered in cycles, each going for 28 days. The first two cycles you will be following OEPA: vincristine, doxorubicin, etoposide, and prednisolone…”
She goes on to name a long, grueling list of side effects from all the chemo drugs in his regimen. Remus only half pays attention, nodding along when he’s supposed to. His mother asks questions, and the other doctor and nurse chimes in at times. They tell him what's going to happen to him, as well as everything that could happen, but for some reason, Remus can’t believe any of it is actually going to. There’s a part of him that is convinced he's invincible, that the medicine won’t actually affect him at all and he won’t change.
“...Before your treatment starts, there are a few tests we have to do to make sure everything else is okay: bloods and an ECG for your heart. You will also have a PICC line inserted so you don’t need injections every treatment.”
Minerva hands his mother some booklets and pamphlets.
“Our patients and their families often find helpful support here,” she adds. “Oh, and this is your timetable for your cycles.”
She hands him a sheet of paper color-coded with days and different drugs.
“All right, that's it, I think,” Poppy says, turning to face him. “Remus, am I able to have a few words alone?”
“Sure.”
Minerva and Albus say goodbye to the others, and his mother gets up to leave, saying she’ll wait outside, leaving Remus and Poppy alone. The silence is sickening. Remus is able to count each beat of his heart.
“I’m going to ask you some personal questions, and it’s important that you answer honestly. I’ll go quickly though, I understand it can feel awkward.”
If Remus wasn't so sleep deprived or emotionally exhausted, maybe he would of cared about the situation—or at least attempted to paint himself in a better light with his responses.
“Do you drink alcohol?”
“Yeah, sometimes, with my mates.”
“Do you regularly smoke cigarettes or use vapes?”
“No, but I have smoked a handful of times.”
“Do you use any illicit substances?”
“No.”
“Are you sexually active?”
“No.”
“Do you have any romantic partners?”
“No.”
“Thank you, Remus. It’s important that while you undergo treatment, you don't drink or smoke, though I think you can understand why.”
“yeah, wasn't going to anyway.”
She leaves him in that silence again as the clicks of her computer fill the room. Remus’ eyes trail to the blindingly reflective floor.
“How are you feeling about all this?” She asks, softly. “I know it's a lot to take in.”
“I guess… it’s just weird,” he starts. “I mean, I don’t feel like I should be here.”
Because Remus doesn’t feel sick, he doesn’t look sick, he finds it difficult to understand why they have to do this to him. Why they seem to want to rip him apart from the insides and put him back together again.
“Many people don’t. Being here can be quite confronting.”
Remus chews on the inside of his lip. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine.
“I think I’ll be okay,” he lies.
“I’m sure you will be,” she smiles, a pained look behind her eyes.
Five minutes later, Remus sits again in the same waiting room chair. The lounge is mostly empty at the moment, which is nice. His mother is by the pharmacy window where a short stout man is explaining when and how to administer every single drug he has to take. Remus, who has had enough talk of treatments for the day, pulls out Atonement and begins to read. However, it's not long before his only peace that day is rudely interrupted by someone loudly flopping down on the seat beside him and announcing:
“You’re new.”
Annoyed at the disturbance, Remus snaps, “Yeah, obvious, is it?” He keeps his eyes on the paper, hoping whoever they are will go away.
“No,” the voice replies, not taking the hint. “I’m just good at remembering people, and I haven’t seen you before.”
“Well, then, you must be here a lot,” he says, feeling a little sorry for the boy but still not giving him the satisfaction of looking at him.
“Mmh, something like that.” The conversation goes quiet, and Remus happily thinks he’s bored the boy beside him into leaving him alone. “The ending’s shit, by the way.” He adds.
“I know. Robbie and Cecilia are dead.”
“Huh, you into tragedies then?”
At that, he looks up. Remus is met with blue eyes, pale skin, and long dark hair.
“Yeah, maybe I am.”
“Are you here for a while then?” He asks. Remus can see his eyes trail to the scar on his neck. He momentarily feels as though the boy’s gaze chokes him.
“Unfortunately.”
“You’ll get through treatment.”
“Hopefully,” Remus jokes, and the boy lets out a huff.
“Well, it's just medicine.”
“...Right.”