Love Sick
Six
"Why are we here?" I ask Julia as I sit in the wheelchair in the darkened corner of the cafeteria.
"You'll see. Have patience." She rubs my shoulders soothingly.
After ten minutes of making small talk with Justin and Julia, three familiar faces walked through the sliding doors. My sister and brothers ran to me, quickly weaving through the sea of tables and wheelchairs. I stood to embrace them as tears flowed down my sister's face. I sat down and they huddled near the chair. I quickly introduced them to Justin and Pattie as we settled into chairs outside on the deck.
"This is my eldest sister, Jacqueline, and my two brothers, Judah and Jonathan."
"I'm beginning to see a theme here?" Pattie says with a smile.
"Yes, ma'am. All our initials are JMM." Jonathan answers before Jacqueline continues. "Our mother's name was Jasmine and our father's name is Mark, so it's like- like, we all have a special part of them."
"If I may, what are your middle names?" Justin wonders curiously.
"Jacqueline Marcella."
"Jonathan Matthew."
"Judah Maleko."
"Maleko." Justin repeats. "It doesn't sound English."
"It isn't." My dad answers from behind the group. "It's Hawaiian for "Mark". My wife and I lived in Hawaii and he was born there."
"We're lucky that Hawaii was a state by then." Judah laughs.
"Janet, has the doctor said when you'll be released to go home? I really missed all of you and eating out sounds really nice." Jacqueline insists.
"He hasn't told us any details yet, Jackie." My dad says. "We still haven't found out what type of cancer it is."
Turns out, it is ovarian cancer. My sisters gasp, like I knew they would. My only concern is something not many people would believe is a problem at my age: the possibility of my having children.
I ask the doctor once my family leaves, wanting nothing more than a serious, straightforward answer. His reply gives me chills: It is still very possible to conceive with only one ovary, but if the cancer spreads to both, they'll have to remove them both. And the chances of getting pregnant without them is slim to none.
As I lay here in my bed, brokenhearted tonight, my mind races with doubtful thoughts of love: What man would willingly marry a woman whom he knows can never give him children?
"You'll see. Have patience." She rubs my shoulders soothingly.
After ten minutes of making small talk with Justin and Julia, three familiar faces walked through the sliding doors. My sister and brothers ran to me, quickly weaving through the sea of tables and wheelchairs. I stood to embrace them as tears flowed down my sister's face. I sat down and they huddled near the chair. I quickly introduced them to Justin and Pattie as we settled into chairs outside on the deck.
"This is my eldest sister, Jacqueline, and my two brothers, Judah and Jonathan."
"I'm beginning to see a theme here?" Pattie says with a smile.
"Yes, ma'am. All our initials are JMM." Jonathan answers before Jacqueline continues. "Our mother's name was Jasmine and our father's name is Mark, so it's like- like, we all have a special part of them."
"If I may, what are your middle names?" Justin wonders curiously.
"Jacqueline Marcella."
"Jonathan Matthew."
"Judah Maleko."
"Maleko." Justin repeats. "It doesn't sound English."
"It isn't." My dad answers from behind the group. "It's Hawaiian for "Mark". My wife and I lived in Hawaii and he was born there."
"We're lucky that Hawaii was a state by then." Judah laughs.
"Janet, has the doctor said when you'll be released to go home? I really missed all of you and eating out sounds really nice." Jacqueline insists.
"He hasn't told us any details yet, Jackie." My dad says. "We still haven't found out what type of cancer it is."
Turns out, it is ovarian cancer. My sisters gasp, like I knew they would. My only concern is something not many people would believe is a problem at my age: the possibility of my having children.
I ask the doctor once my family leaves, wanting nothing more than a serious, straightforward answer. His reply gives me chills: It is still very possible to conceive with only one ovary, but if the cancer spreads to both, they'll have to remove them both. And the chances of getting pregnant without them is slim to none.
As I lay here in my bed, brokenhearted tonight, my mind races with doubtful thoughts of love: What man would willingly marry a woman whom he knows can never give him children?