The Bad News
Days were passing by, and Jeff was visibly ill. He would drag himself to work, come home, eat, and then fall asleep on the sofa until it was time for him to go to work again. There was nothing I could do for him to make him feel better. Even his voice was getting weak.
He came home from work on a Monday after work, walked in the house, and said he would take a shower. He asked me if I would take him to the emergency room. I didn't know whether to be happy or extremely sad. Sadness won the contest.
It was on June 19th. Jeff was taken back to a room in the ER immediately. I was relieved that he didn't have to wait for hours in the waiting room. When I first sat down, Dancing With The Stars was on the TV in the waiting room. I had never watched it before and couldn't figure out what it was about. The waiting room was packed with people; there were injured people, crying kids, parents yelling at kids running around, and one person throwing up everywhere. I sat and sat and sat.
The news was on when someone came to me and took me back where Jeff was. As soon as I walked into the room, he looked up at me from the bed with tears in his eyes and said, "Mom, they are pretty sure that I have cancer." I could see the fear in his eyes. I felt like screaming and crying, but I didn't. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to quietly say, "Jeff, it's okay. The treatment now is much better than it used to be. You will be alright. You won't be alone; I will help you." Oh, my deceptive mouth. How did I manage to say that? I will never know, but it seemed to calm him a little. I looked at the doctor, and he said they had done an MRI, and Jeff's colon seemed very suspicious. Oh shit, his colon! Damn, he was only 34 years old; how could that be right? I was fighting to maintain self-control now. Jeff had been given morphine and had gone to sleep. The doctor said they were admitting him and would start running tests in the morning. He would call me in the morning after his emergency colonoscopy and let me know what was going on.
I cried all the way home. At times I could not even see the road. I went into the house and fed the animals, and took Jeff's dog out. I went to my room and sat on the bed all night, figuring out how this could happen to such a young person. There was no way to rationalize what was happening. I stayed up all night long. In the morning, I called my boss, a witch of a woman, and told her what was going on. Then I called Jeff's boss. I started crying when I was talking to him. Then I called my mom. I thought she would react like me, but no, she was cold as a cucumber. So much for that.
I sat on the sofa, smoking and smoking and smoking and smoking more. The doctor called around noon. Jeff had colon cancer. He was going to have surgery the next day. They would not give me a prognosis until after the operation, but it didn't look good. I don't remember what I said; I don't remember hanging up the phone. I just sat there for I don't even know how long. I was somewhere else. I was in a fog. A dense fog. When I came back, I had to call my boss and Jeff's boss, Jeff's dad, and my mom. I didn't know if I could do it and there was nobody to help me. I didn't do a very good job. I cried and cried and cried. And then I got dressed, fed the animals again, and took the dog out. I had to go to the hospital to see Jeff. I was dreading it. I was determined not to let him see me act like a crazy person. I was not going to cry around him. This was the beginning of the worst nightmare of my life, and I wanted to wake up.
#cancersucks
#Thebadnews
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