I Remember (Remembrance Series)

by Cynthia P. O'Neill

  “Why? I’m going to be just fine.”

  “I know you will, but I would rather spend my Valentine’s surrounded by the people I love. I’ve never felt comfortable talking with Thomas and, while Alley had offered a double date solution, the idea just did not sit well with me.”

  “There must be a reason you are getting such a strong objection. Always best to go with your intuition.” Dad’s words rang true and I saw my mother nod in agreement.

  “So, are you here for the day or the weekend?”

  I stood up, crossed the room and took Dad’s other hand. “I’m here for as long as you need me. Right now we are focusing on just the weekend.”

  I hated leaving the hospital, but I needed to get away and decided to take a little drive and clear my head. I was grateful we hadn’t heard any news, but still felt darkness looming on the horizon. I just couldn’t shake the images of my dream.

  My mind was off in a million different directions thinking about those strange visions my dad was having and how uneasy they made me feel.

  Suddenly the light changed to red and I slammed on the brakes, causing my purse to fly off the seat and spill its contents on the floor. I need to pay more attention.

  I headed back to the hospital and, after finding a parking spot close to the entrance, I collected the contents of my purse. To my surprise, a small piece of paper with Gregory’s phone number was on top. You will need to call him soon.

  My heart skipped a beat at the thought of speaking with him again. We really didn’t know anything and I was not in a talkative mood, so I stuffed it back into my purse. As soon as I walked in, I heard Dr. Scanlon and Dr. Hayward talking about his test results.

  “Both Dr. Hayward and I reviewed the photos, the results from the biopsy and compared the two scans. The shading from the original medical scan, taken after the melanoma was removed, was not a machine error. In fact, it was an early sign of a couple of growths. The latest scan shows the tumors have enlarged and metastasized and there is now one in your lung and one in your liver. And the one in your throat is larger than we first realized.”

  Dr. Scanlon’s words hit me like a ton of bricks. The air left my lungs and I struggled to remember how to breathe.

  I shot a glance at my dad’s face, which looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. Mom looked puzzled, like she was trying to form a question, but had no voice.

  I recovered quickly and tried to focus on the health issues at hand.

  “What stage does the biopsy indicate? How large are the growths and are they operable? Is this what is causing his weakness and inability to swallow? What treatments do you suggest?” I knew I could come up with at least a hundred questions, but tried to refrain from asking too many.

  Dr. Scanlon answered, “The growth is pharyngeal cancer, or more commonly known as cancer of the throat. That growth is in stage 4. The other’s, based on the imaging, we’re estimating at stage 3.

  “Due to their size and your dad’s weakened condition, we are unable to operate. The best options we can recommend are to try chemotherapy and radiation therapy in hopes of stopping the progression and possibly reducing the tumors size, so we can operate at a later time.”

  All of my nightmares had now become my reality.

  We all sat there in silence, looking at one another trying to find the right words to say, but we were all in shock.

  Dr. Hayward came over and laid his hand on Dad’s shoulder looking between him and my mother with caring eyes. “William, Marilyn, I am not going to beat around the bush, here. This is very serious, as Dr. Scanlon has pointed out. There are some treatment options that you need to consider and decide what you feel most comfortable with.”

  After sitting there, dumbfounded, for a few minutes, I finally asked, “Will chemo and radiation therapy work or could it hasten things, given his weakened condition? What exactly is the prognosis?”

  Dr. Hayward took a deep breath before answering. “Truthfully, we don’t know. He could respond well to treatment or it could weaken him even further. To proceed with treatment, we may be looking at a few extra months, maybe even years. To do nothing, we are estimating maybe six months to a year, at best.”

  “But, if the cancer responds to the therapies, why only a few years? Wouldn’t you be able to operate and remove it?”

  “I wish I could say there would be more time. However, these growths, especially at the stages they are in, typically do not respond well to treatment and are often inoperable.” Dr. Hayward’s face looked very grim.

  Dad spoke up, very determined, “Doctor, I want to do whatever I can to get better. My wife and daughter need me and I want to be around for them.”

  “Dad, we need you, too. But we want what is best for you.”

  “William, you have a lot to think about,” said Dr. Hayward. Remember that treatment has no guarantee of working and could have the reverse effect of shortening your life, given the current conditions. We can try and do what we can or, if you choose to do nothing, we can try to make you as comfortable, as possible.

  “This is not the news you were looking for and we have most likely given you more than you wanted to think about, today. What we’ll do is give you the weekend to think things over and then see how you would like to proceed and go from there.

  “I will check in with you in a day or so. If you need me in the mean time for anything, please let the nurses know and they will contact me.”

  Dr. Scanlon reached out his hand to shake each of ours. Dr. Hayward followed suit and they both turned and left.

  I only saw horror on Mom’s face. Dad looked panic stricken and I felt like my heart had been ripped out. None of us had been prepared for what we heard.

  It felt like hours, not minutes, went by before anyone spoke.

  “I knew something was wrong with me, though I didn’t realize how far it had gotten. Maybe I should have gone to the doctor, earlier. My chances of beating this thing might have been better. Why didn’t I listen to both of you?” His voice was wavering and I could tell that the news was finally sinking in.

  “William, don’t blame yourself. I should’ve been more insistent that you see someone. We will get through this somehow, and face whatever comes. The most important thing is that you are comfortable and out of pain.” Mom’s tone was soothing and comforting.

  “Mom’s right. We will get through this. We love you and want only what is best for you. So please, don’t put us first; think about yourself and your needs. We will support and stand behind whatever decisions you make.” My voice may have sounded reassuring; but my insides were turning to quicksand, and I was struggling to get out of this nightmare.

  No one spoke anymore of the news we had received. We only stared at each other and held hands, hoping for a miracle to save us from this terrifying ordeal.

  Neither my mother, nor I, felt like eating dinner that night, despite my dad’s pleas to get some food into our systems. I only wanted to spend as much time as I could with him. It appeared that my mom had the same thought.

  We finally left the hospital late and headed straight home. Once inside the house, we turned to each other and broke down.

  All I could do was look up at her. “What do we do?”

  “All we can do, Jordan, is hope for a miracle.” Mom’s eyes started to form tears at the corners.

  “He’s going to give up, isn’t he?” I hated myself for asking the question, but knew Dad all too well.

  “Yes. He said when it was his time, he was ready. The odds are not in his favor. I don’t want that, but I can’t bear to see him in pain.” Her words made sense.

  I hugged mom a bit closer, realizing just how much our lives were about to change.

  I fell into a restless slumber where my nightmare revolved around my father. The sinister voice spoke out in admonition “You didn’t heed my warning. You sought him out and now your life will be forever changed.” My only comfort came from Gregory’s voice. “I’m here for y
ou, Jordan. We will get through this together.”

  After an exhaustive night, the morning brought with it an overwhelming sense of dread. We needed to go to the hospital to visit, but I cringed at what Dad’s outlook would be; wondering if he would be angry, in denial or depressed.

  There were several issues that needed to be addressed and, since the hospital was a touchy zone for conversation, I figured the best time to talk with my mom was over breakfast.

  I played with my cereal, bobbing it in the milk. “Mom? Would you mind if I made a quick run home tomorrow, to pick up some work clothes and a few things I might need?”

  “What are you thinking, Jordan?”

  “If it is okay with you, I would like to commute from here to work every day.

  Before she could object, I laid a hand on her arm, squeezing it gently. “I need this. I want all the time I can get.”

  My mother placed her other hand on top of mine, “I would like that. I’m sure he will, too; but you know he is going to be opposed to you driving so much every day.”

  “I know. He has my best interest at heart. But, if I don’t do this, I’m not sure I can make it through.” Tears came streaming from my eyes. I tried to fight them back but the reality of everything had set in and there was no way around the grief.

  Mom let me get my cry out and reminded me to put on a “happy” face at the hospital.

  “We can each drive to the hospital, tomorrow. I will probably leave around lunch time. I’m going to be here for as long as I need to be. If I need to take some time off, I will work something out with Caroline,” I spoke, very reassuringly.

  “It will be nice having you home, again.”

  “How are we supposed to act around Dad?”

  “Pretend that nothing has changed. Show your support, let him know you love him, but don’t talk about what we learned, yesterday, or discuss the options. Let him be the one to bring things up.”

  “But, how can we act as though nothing is wrong?”

  “You know that is your father’s way of dealing with things. If we press it, he will fight harder for us and will be unwilling to let go, which can only prolong his suffering. I don’t want that for him, do you?”

  Mom had a point. “No. I love him too much.”

  When we arrived at the hospital, we found Dad as Mom predicted, acting as though the previous day’s events had not transpired.

  “How are you feeling today, Honey?” Mom asked, as we entered his room.

  “I feel better than I have in days. Maybe I can talk the doctors into letting me out of here. I would love to get back to my own bed.” Dad was definitely upbeat and positive.

  Mom gave me a look that told me to play along with what she was about to say. “We will try to see what we can do.”

  I knew Mom meant every word she said. If my dad desired to go home, she would find a way to get him there.

  Dad asked, “Are you headed back home tomorrow, Jordan?”

  “Well, yes and no. I will come by to see you in the morning and then go back to get a few things; but I will be back tomorrow evening.”

  “Why are you coming back?” Dad looked a bit puzzled.

  “I talked it over with Mom and decided to commute back and forth to work for a while, at least until you get better. She said she could use the company and besides, I want to spend some time with you.”

  Mom quickly spoke up, “Honey, I feel all alone at home with you here. It would be nice having Jordan to keep me company.”

  “I don’t like the idea of you driving back and forth on the Interstate. But, it is nice that you are there for your mother and me.” He couldn’t really argue with my mother’s request for company.

  The next morning we stopped by the gift shop on the way to dad’s room, to pick up a Valentine’s bouquet and a couple of Mylar balloons.

  Before we even stepped foot into the room, Dad yelled, “Happy Valentine’s Day to my two favorite girls!” He was sitting up in bed looking cheerful.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Dad! ”

  Mom leaned in for a kiss and a hug.

  “I’m sorry I am in here on Valentine’s. I feel bad that I don’t have cards for either of you.”

  Mom was quick to answer. “Don’t worry about it, Honey. The best present you could give us is to feel better.”

  “Still no plans for Valentine’s, Jordan?”

  “Dad, we’ve been over this. I cancelled my plans for today so I could be with the two people who mean the most to me. Besides, I am talking with someone new and he seems more my type.”

  Dad’s eyebrow arched. “Why don’t you give this new guy a call then and go out with him, today?”

  “Dad!” I was shocked by his candor. “We’ve only talked on the phone once. Actually, he was quite nice to talk to but I want to get to know him better, before we go out.”

  “Maybe you should give him a call to wish him a Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  “So, what have you been up to this morning?” Mom changed the subject, thankfully.

  Before I knew it, it was time for me to get on the road.

  Traffic was fairly light, considering it was a Sunday and Valentine’s Day. I arrived at the apartment in record time.

  I began to make quick work of everything that needed to be handled.

  I called Alley and reassured her I would continue to pay my share of the rent and utilities and be back to stay as soon as I could. I told her not to be alarmed if she saw a few of my things go missing during the time I was gone, as I would drop by on occasion for the mail and a few more clothes.

  I called my boss, Caroline, and most of our relatives—aunts, uncles and cousins. I also got in touch with a few of our closest friends from our hometown of Clewiston, FL. The conversations were full of tears, well wishes and promises of keeping them updated.

  I was very thankful that Caroline was understanding of the situation and offered to work with me on whatever schedule I needed.

  It did not take long to pack the items I needed for the week.

  Before heading back, I decided to take a break, turn on the computer, and see if Gregory had written. I could not believe that I had three emails waiting for me.

  The first email, written Friday, read:

  “Hello Jordan. I know you don’t have a computer at your parent’s house, but didn’t know how to get a hold of you any other way. I just wanted to let you know that I enjoyed our talk on the phone and I did dream of you! My thoughts are with you and your family, today. I pray the tests went well and that all is fine with your father. Please know that I am thinking of you. Take care and I miss talking with you! – Gregory”

  The next email was written on Saturday and read:

  “I want to call you so badly, to know that you are okay, but I don’t have your number. I have gotten accustomed to our late night chats and keep searching for you online. I hope everything is fine and you are having a good weekend with your parents. Know that I am a good listener and need to hear your voice! Take Care! - Gregory”

  The last email was written early this morning and read:

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jordan! I hope you are having a good day and receiving tons of Valentine wishes. I wish we could have met earlier so that we might be able to meet today, and I could ask you to be my Valentine. But, I like that you want to take things slow and get to know one another better. I don’t have any plans today, other than going out to a computer and electronics show at the Convention Center. I figured I would check out the latest technological advances. Write me an email, though I would prefer a call, to let me know how you’re doing. Have a wonderful Valentine’s Day! – Gregory

  P.S. Just so you know whom you are talking with, I have decided to enclose a recent picture. Hope you don’t mind. No need to reciprocate, only when you feel comfortable.”

  I couldn’t believe how sweet he was, almost too good to be true. I’d heard that my dad had been the same way when he first met my mom; so maybe there was hope for me fi
nding that special someone.

  I pulled up Gregory’s picture and did a double take. It was Daniel! The guy from my Victorian dream! Granted, the face was always a bit fuzzy in the dreams, but all the other details were identical. It was definitely him! How could this be? He was strikingly handsome, looking more like a model than an average guy.

  I hit the reply button and wrote:

  “Hi Gregory and Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too! I miss talking with you. I would have called, but the past couple of days have been a nightmare. My father’s tests came back as cancer and it’s inoperable. I’m picking up some items at my apartment and will be commuting back and forth from their house to work every day for a while. I don’t like the idea, but I want to spend as much time with my father as possible. I will try to check my mail periodically, both snail and email. So, it may be a while before I can write back. Feel free to continue to write if you would like; or if not, I will understand. Thanks for the picture. It was not necessary; but you’re right, it is nice to know who I am talking with. To be fair, I have attached my picture to this email. Take care and I will try to call you, soon. I shouldn’t do this, but I am going to take the risk…here is my cell, 321-4576. Hope to talk with you, soon. - Jordan”

  After putting everything I needed into the car, I took a piece of paper and quickly scribbled out a note to Alley, thanking her for everything, wishing her a wonderful Valentine’s Day and promising to keep in touch.

  I called my parents to let them know I was headed back, and would stop off at the house to drop off my stuff and turn on some lights before heading to the hospital.

  Traffic was heavier on the way back and I found myself suddenly feeling empty and alone. I knew who I wanted to talk to. The voice inside my head kept telling me to call him. Just when I was about to give in and pick up the phone, it rang.

  The number looked familiar. “Hello?”

  “Jordan, I’m so sorry to hear about your dad.” Gregory’s voice was pained and full of emotion. His words pulled at my heart. “Is there anything I can do for you?”