Dear Diary,

How come no one realizes that even if I die early, I don’t want to spend my last months sick? Is that really such a bizarre thought? What kind of life is it, undergoing radiation and chemo, and feeling like crap for months, when you know there’s no cure? If I had a fighting chance, sure, why not, but I don’t. I just want people to realize that too, so they stop holding out hope when there is none. I hate to be so blunt but it is what it is. I want to be happy as long as I can. Is that too much to ask?

Mackenzie

Mackenzie

“Thank you for going with me,” I say, holding Connor’s hand as we enter the doctor’s office.

Since the trial is over, they wanted to meet with me to go over my options. Really this appointment is to tell me how much longer until I’m going to die.

“How are you, my dear?” Doctor Shaw says.

“I’m good. This is my boyfriend, Connor.” I introduce them and they shake hands.

“Please have a seat.” He sits down behind a dark brown desk covered in family photos. “I know you heard about the study. We’re heartbroken as well. I looked at your last scans, and so far things seemed to be working well for you.”

“But?” I blurt, not in the mood for sugarcoating.

“Yes, there’s always a but. I’m so sorry, Mackenzie. I really think you should try radiation and chemo. That will—”

“Make me super sick, and I’ll still die.”

“Yes, but it could give you more time,” he argues.

“How much more?” Connor asks.

“A few months to a few years, if we’re lucky.”

Connor straightens, almost excited.

I point out, “But the way it’s wrapped around my brain, those few months could be awful for me, making me someone else completely, right?”

My doctor nods. “That is true. It’s unknown how those pieces we couldn’t get during surgery will react with your brain.”

“Then it’s not worth the risk to me,” I say, jaw trembling.

“But, baby, if we get a few more months….” Connor reaches for my hand, trying to convince me.

“I’m not going through chemo and radiation, leaving me so sick I can’t enjoy these last few months of my life. I won’t do it.” I hate seeing the sadness he’s trying to hide, but it would be even worse if he had to sit next to my hospital bed day and night watching me struggle.

“So what’s our timeline then, Doc?” Connor says.

He sits back in his chair, defeated. “It all depends on the growth. Thankfully, there’s been none since your surgery. It makes me sick to think the study might have been working, keeping the tumor from growing. The laser might have bought you a few months. But until we know if it was your body fighting it or the laser, I won’t be able to give you a better timeframe. For now though, I’ll stick with the original year to fifteen months.”

“Okay then, let’s make this one kick-ass year,” Connor says, looking at me and smiling through the heart I can visibly see crushed on his sleeve.

* * *

Connor

I dropped Mackenzie off at home before heading back to work. I felt bad leaving her, but I needed to re-group, even though it left a tinge of guilt in my gut. I don’t want her to see my emotions and how I’m handling it all.

Everything is happening so fast and knowing it will end brings an awful uncertainty to my stomach.

Sitting at my desk, my mind is everywhere but on my work. After an hour of staring at the same briefing, I finally pick up my phone, calling the one person who will understand my thoughts. The one person I had to listen to when his girlfriend left him.

“What’s up, bro?” Alan says, like we’re right back to our friendship and nothing ever happened.

“Life. How did I become you?” I hope he gets that this phone call is about Mackenzie again.

He laughs. “Paybacks are a bitch, maybe?”

“Very funny, asshole,” I spit back, knowing he’s just teasing me.

“Meet me for drinks after work. I’ll hold your hand,” he taunts me again.

“I was never this mean to you.”

“Um, yes, actually you were. I’ll see you then.”

He hangs up, and for the next few hours, I attempt to read three fucking pages.

* * *

When I enter the bar, Alan’s already there. I take the empty seat next to him and he tilts his head to the drink sitting there.

“Thanks.” I say, taking a big gulp.

“How is she doing?” he asks, getting right down to business.

I shake my head and I tell him about the study along with the pulled funding.

“Yeah, I heard about that study and wondered if she was in it. I’m sorry. What happens now?”

“She won’t do chemo or radiation. She doesn’t want the end of her life to be spent in a hospital.”

Alan isn’t as affected as other people might be. He deals with cancer every day, but I’ve never known how emotional his job could be until right now.

I remember the days he’d beat the hell out of the baseball when we went to the batting cages or do twice the reps at the gym because he had to blow off steam.

“I don’t understand how you deal with this, day in and day out, and with kids too,” I say, looking down at the beer in my hands.

“It’s hard. Shit, you’ve seen me firsthand at my worst, but there are a lot of people I help, and that makes it all worth it.”

We both stare off to space, drinking our beers.

“So what’s the next—”

“She wants kids,” I bluntly state.

“Okay…” he replies, confused by my outburst.

“Is it possible? I mean, in her condition?”

“Whoa, are you serious right now? You’re considering having a child with this woman?”

“She’s not just any woman. I’ve known her my whole life. There’s this connection, this, I don’t know—”

“I get it. Believe me, I do. Once it’s there, it’s there. Shit, you were by my side when I lost my shit with Amy, so yeah, tell me about it.”

“But?”

“Do you even want kids? Up until a few months ago, you didn’t even want a girlfriend.”

“I know, right? Am I insane for even considering this?”

“Yes,” he says, without thinking twice. “Did she really ask you to do this?”

“Not in so many words. She has this list of things she wants to do before she dies. Having kids isn’t on there, but she mentioned that’s the one thing she didn’t put on the list that she wishes were possible.”

“And you want to sweep in, be the hero, and get her pregnant? Come on, bro. That’s a little much.”

“Is it?”

He sighs. “You know I would do it in a heartbeat for Amy if she were in this situation, but”—he shakes his head—“it’s a lifetime commitment. Something you can’t go back on, especially when it’s guaranteed you’ll be doing it alone.”

“But is it possible? In her condition?” I plead, wanting his professional opinion more than anything.

“If she’s not on any medications, then yeah, it’s possible. Advisable, I’m not sure. I’d have to see her films and dig a little more.”

“What would be the reasons not to?”

“Connor, she’s going to die. Do you not comprehend what that means? Her body is fighting a foreign invader. The pregnancy could escalate things and fuck, man, she won’t be there to raise it with you,” he almost shouts, drawing attention from other patrons.

My head drops, defeated. “I just want to make her happy. Give her the best life she can possibly have while I still can.”

Alan pats my back. “Please think about this long and hard. That's a child you’re talking about. A child who will have no mother and a father who works full time. Who will make their dinners and take them to school and change their diapers when they shit? Just think about it, okay?”

I nod, but I know there is only one answer.