Malignant Tumor
Malignant Tumor
"I do not want to."
"Billie, you have to. There is no other option," Doctor Seward rubs his forehead in frustration. I slam my body back in the hard chair opposite him.
This scene is not a new one. I come here every Sunday afternoon. I have been coming here every Sunday afternoon since I was twelve. I am now 24. Sucks right? Right.
I have a tumor on my aorta. The doctors cannot identify it. All they can tell is that it is deadly. Dr. Seward has been trying to get me on the operation table for ten years.
At first it was my parents saying no. Conveniently (or inconveniently; depends on whose side your on), they drown the day of my 18th birthday. I'm the one that has been saying no for the past six years.
"Billie!" Oh, guess I had better pay attention to the lecture he has spouted every week for ten years. Sarcasm anyone? "Billie, just let me cut it out. It is a low risk procedure. I can mend any tears I make in your aorta and then we can figure out what this is."
"You can take it out when I am dead. I would like to die of natural causes and not on an operating table, thank you."
"Damnit Billie! Let me do more to help you!" Well this is new. He never yells at me. "For all intents and purposes, you are my daughter Billie. I have been taking care of you since you were twelve, damnit. And I will not watch you die without doing everything in my power to help you."
A confession. Now I understand why he cries when I leave every week.
"Dr. Seward. I do not want to go under the knife. Sorry if that irks you, but it is the wish of my parents." I take his hand in mine and squeeze it. His hazel eyes meet my charcoal ones. "Anthony, I will be fine."
"You are dying Billie-Anne. A month at the most."
"Oh." I have been 'dying' for the past eleven years. This is the first time there is a deadline attached to the statement.
"Can you do me at least one favor?"
"Depends."
"Meet my son. I want you to spend your last month with him."
I narrow my eyes at him. My parents asked that I never be allowed around guys. The three of us decided it would be to heart-wrenching for me to bring someone into my life and then leave them. Dr. Seward knows this. He was present during the conversation.
"You know what my parents and I decided."
"But I never agreed with them." He looks down with a sheepish smile," Actually, I planned on you getting married to my son a few years ago. I just never had the balls to ask."
"You what?" Anyone else feeling shocked? Is it just me?
"You heard me. I know he can love you. I have told him so much about you, he might already. He knows what your condition is, but he cannot find the will to care. Meet him, get to know him. Please?" I give him an appraising look.
Am I going to break the pact I made with my parents two weeks before they died? Am I going to put my self in an awkward situation? Am I going to cave to the puppy-dog eyes Dr. Seward is giving me?
You bet your sweet ass I am.
Hey, I like making life difficult.
"Fine."
"Good. He is in the waiting room. I will be right back."
Rat bastard. He was going to make me do this. Kind of a 'will you nil you' deal. Taming of the Shrew anyone?
"Billie-Anne, this is my son Johnny. Johnny, this is Billie-Anne."
Hottie.
"Hi, it is great to finally meet you. After all these years...." He trails off, slightly blushing.
I shake his out stretched hand, "Nice to make your acquaintance. I hear I am spending the rest of my life with you."
"Yea." He smiles softly at me and laces our fingers.
"Billie, you have to. There is no other option," Doctor Seward rubs his forehead in frustration. I slam my body back in the hard chair opposite him.
This scene is not a new one. I come here every Sunday afternoon. I have been coming here every Sunday afternoon since I was twelve. I am now 24. Sucks right? Right.
I have a tumor on my aorta. The doctors cannot identify it. All they can tell is that it is deadly. Dr. Seward has been trying to get me on the operation table for ten years.
At first it was my parents saying no. Conveniently (or inconveniently; depends on whose side your on), they drown the day of my 18th birthday. I'm the one that has been saying no for the past six years.
"Billie!" Oh, guess I had better pay attention to the lecture he has spouted every week for ten years. Sarcasm anyone? "Billie, just let me cut it out. It is a low risk procedure. I can mend any tears I make in your aorta and then we can figure out what this is."
"You can take it out when I am dead. I would like to die of natural causes and not on an operating table, thank you."
"Damnit Billie! Let me do more to help you!" Well this is new. He never yells at me. "For all intents and purposes, you are my daughter Billie. I have been taking care of you since you were twelve, damnit. And I will not watch you die without doing everything in my power to help you."
A confession. Now I understand why he cries when I leave every week.
"Dr. Seward. I do not want to go under the knife. Sorry if that irks you, but it is the wish of my parents." I take his hand in mine and squeeze it. His hazel eyes meet my charcoal ones. "Anthony, I will be fine."
"You are dying Billie-Anne. A month at the most."
"Oh." I have been 'dying' for the past eleven years. This is the first time there is a deadline attached to the statement.
"Can you do me at least one favor?"
"Depends."
"Meet my son. I want you to spend your last month with him."
I narrow my eyes at him. My parents asked that I never be allowed around guys. The three of us decided it would be to heart-wrenching for me to bring someone into my life and then leave them. Dr. Seward knows this. He was present during the conversation.
"You know what my parents and I decided."
"But I never agreed with them." He looks down with a sheepish smile," Actually, I planned on you getting married to my son a few years ago. I just never had the balls to ask."
"You what?" Anyone else feeling shocked? Is it just me?
"You heard me. I know he can love you. I have told him so much about you, he might already. He knows what your condition is, but he cannot find the will to care. Meet him, get to know him. Please?" I give him an appraising look.
Am I going to break the pact I made with my parents two weeks before they died? Am I going to put my self in an awkward situation? Am I going to cave to the puppy-dog eyes Dr. Seward is giving me?
You bet your sweet ass I am.
Hey, I like making life difficult.
"Fine."
"Good. He is in the waiting room. I will be right back."
Rat bastard. He was going to make me do this. Kind of a 'will you nil you' deal. Taming of the Shrew anyone?
"Billie-Anne, this is my son Johnny. Johnny, this is Billie-Anne."
Hottie.
"Hi, it is great to finally meet you. After all these years...." He trails off, slightly blushing.
I shake his out stretched hand, "Nice to make your acquaintance. I hear I am spending the rest of my life with you."
"Yea." He smiles softly at me and laces our fingers.