Months To Years Fall 2018 Months To Years Fall 2018 - Page 10

gathered belongings and grabbed children’s hands, faces “Your story gives me hope,” I said. “I love my husband smiling or wet with tears.  No one approached me.  I but I’m frightened of the man he has become. You have began to regret not bringing a friend.  Vivian would be helped me understand what I must do.” waiting for me afterward.  She and her husband opened their home to me. I looked forward to spending the night “I’m glad my story gives you comfort,” she said. “I hope you in that bright, cheerful space, refuge from this morbid won’t have to wait much longer.” waiting area. She was a crossroads person, a perfect stranger who The moon traded places with the sun, darkening the room.  appears at a pivotal moment and says exactly what is I was the only one remaining.  A young woman walked in needed to bring calm and make the right choice.  She and sat down next to me.  My anguish cracked open with disappeared as quickly as she came. “Can I help?” she asked. “My husband has been in surgery since seven this morning.” I said.  “They think it’s cancer.  I haven’t heard anything.  We are separated. I am so afraid of him, I don’t know how to manage this!” She let the silence settle around us.  “I have been in your shoes,” she We were not used to seeing each other often, having separated after a traumatic struggle first to save the marriage, then to part for the sake of our children. The diagnosis added a new layer of chaos to an emotionally-charged chapter in our lives. said quietly. “My husband was abusive to me and my son. I couldn’t take “ it and we left him.  Soon after he was diagnosed with “ Suddenly the door flew open “ her kind question. “ and the doctor stumbled into the It’s had acceptable room like a man who run a for hospice staff to have marathon.  His ashen face was twisted in anguish.  tears in our eyes sometimes. It shows that “Your husband- it is cancer, it’s we have compassion for everywhere. I tried, couldn’t get it our This patients all.  He is so young. is tragic.  and their families . . . I am sorry.”  But, to survive, we also He turned and staggered out have to find a way to the door before I could speak.  stay calm amid all the I looked around. No one. His suffering words slowly found their mark.  we see. Cancer. Tragic. Sorry.  I stood immobilized, shocked by his grim pronouncement, my lungs barely “ functioning. leukemia. He begged me to let him come back but I Call. I have to let people know.  Jay would be in intensive wouldn’t do it.  I couldn’t. We suffered too long.  Turns out, care at least overnight. Have to call.  I slipped into the Yes, the Malignant meant it was the best thing I could have done.  He recovered and same phone tan booth, pulled out a list of numbers, dialed with became a better father to our son.  It was a hard decision with numb fingers. “Yes, surgery is done. It’s cancer. Couldn’t moccasins tassels cancer. Cancer was bad. but I know I made the right one.” Not good.” His sisters, my family, his boss, my that John used get to it all. wear, From my experiences voice lifeless.  Nothing more could be done that night. the same Argyle black- with it, cancer was I looked at her incredulously. and-gray socks, and the see Jay briefly in intensive care. usually Nurses let me He was lethal. But the same dark brown voice on the phone “How did you find me? How could you have suffered a nearly floppy upright like a mummy on display, tubes entering nearly identical fate?” I asked. every are part of fringe. But there no his body, face bluish white, eyelids kept slightly going, expecting Machines beeping.  streaks of gray parted.  like John’s me to keep up with the “I am the social worker here,” she said. and no dimple in his particulars she rattled 10 chin. He is so very much off. It amounted to one like John, but the cold fact—my husband was