Jiraiya

The Week After

 

A week after our trip, I was back home, lying in a hospital room. The specialist stood just a few inches away from my father and my mother. Gracen was behind them, pulling nervously on a few strands of loose hair.   Through partially closed eyes, I could see the sadness in her eyes as the doctor told my family about my condition.

Mother was devastated. Father had always been a sturdy-minded person; I knew it hurt him just as much, but he had taught himself to show only the tiniest of emotion. I lay on the table watching and listening. I wondered if they knew that I was awake as the doctor rambled on about the various kinds of treatment available, my prognosis, stiff upper lip, etc.  I felt the heat in my eyes, but no tears came forth.

The next couple of days were difficult; I had never felt so weak in my entire life. I needed someone or something that would tell me that it would pass; I needed to know that things would get better. The darkness that had started to form in my soul only grew deeper.

  "You really need to eat something to keep your system functioning properly, it is best for your health," I heard Gracen say. Her words seeped through my ears and into my brain, slowly and gently like water under a bridge at night. It was supposed to make me feel better, but it only made me feel worse.

"Why? My body is not working properly. I feel like drowning myself in the ocean right now.  My bones hurt so much. I feel dizzy every time I try to move. The doctors have given me a list of things I should avoid.  Every freakin’ thing I enjoy is on that list.  My life is being taken away from me." I could feel the heat of tears at the corners of my eyes, threatening to break free and turn my face into a waterfall.

"Don't think like that, Sweetheart. I am here for you and I love you so much," she said and leaned in to hug me as tears found their way down her face. Her hugs were supposed to make me feel better but, instead, they reminded me of my worst fear: How could she stay with me? Why would she want to? She was young, beautiful and active. She had her whole life ahead of her. A career to look after and dreams to accomplish. I could see it in her eyes. She was thinking the same thing. I could not bear being a burden to her.

She sat down beside me and talked. She spoke of work; she spoke of the many things that had happened in her day. I knew she was trying to keep me happy and abreast of events in her life but all it did was tell me that she was out there all alone, while I was stuck here on this miserable hospital bed.

"How do you feel, Jiraiya?" I heard the voice of Dr. Coleman as he walked into the room. I had cursed a thousand times in the last few days: not being one to stay off work for a long period of time. I had wanted to be out of the hospital and off to work, but the doctor had shaken his head. With that little gesture, my hope of being discharged was dashed on hard rocks, where it shattered into tiny pieces. So, in anger, I had cursed for days, any time I heard or saw the doctor.  Today I was in no mood for cursing.

"Now good Doctor tell me, how long will I have to be here?" I asked.

"We need to keep you for further observations. The treatments will be more effective if you don’t stress your bones and muscles. Imagine the stress of coming here every time you need to do your chemotherapy. Don't worry, in about three weeks, you should be able to go home. But you will need a nurse or a caregiver when you are discharged."

"Is he going to make a full recovery?" Gracen asked. Right there and then, without the help of an interpreter, I knew what she was thinking about. She was already thinking about her future with me; if I was going to ever get better, if our lives together would be the way they were before, if I would ever be the same and how it would affect our relationship.

"It is hard to say right now. We need to give the treatments time to do its job. His body is responding better than I had anticipated, but it is too early to know.  We need to get him through about 50% of the process before we can make that determination.   As far as pain management goes, the pain meds will certainly help,” the doctor said methodically.

I turned to look at Gracen and saw the gloom in her eyes.

"It's okay," I mumbled. "It’s okay," I repeated, more to convince myself than her.

She held my hand in hers and squeezed tightly. I knew she loved me and I loved her, too. But from the look of things I knew our love might not weather the storm.

*****

It had been two weeks; I was given clearance to go home with the caveat of returning for weekly checkups.  The trip home was somber; my father and mother in the front seat and Rosie and me in the back.  No one said a word. 

It hurt me that Gracen had been unable to be there for my release from the hospital.  She had texted that she wanted to; but a previous “work thing” had made it impossible.  I checked on social media and saw her at an event with a big shot photographer who was holding her too close for comfort. I tried to take my mind off it and concentrate on things that made me happy. But I just couldn't take my mind off it.

"I am glad you are coming back home, Mr. Sampson. The house has not been the same without you," Rose said, much to my delight.

"I’ve missed you too, Rose. I kept dreaming of this day in all that time at the hospital," I said to her. “But in my dreams, I was going to my own home and not to my parents’,” I responded with a sigh.

"Stop talking nonsense! We’re your family!  We would never allow you to be by yourself when you’re sick.  You should be with us so we can care for you.”

Rose continued.  "Do you still feel much pain?"

"Not as much as I felt these past two weeks.  Now I just feel exhausted all the time, but the pain meds are doing their job.  The doctor said it would get better over time." I smiled at her, even that was hard to do now.

"That's great, I am so happy to hear that. Maybe you can take me skiing with Miss Gracen like she promised when you are fully recovered," she teased, trying to make the mood a bit less grave.

“You, skiing?” I gave her a doubtful look.

“It’s never too late to teach old dogs new tricks,” she grinned widely. “After all, you need an incentive to get back on your feet and be your normal competitive self again,” she explained as a single tear fell from her right eye.

"Of course, Rose. Thank you so much for believing in my full recovery. Even my parents haven't said anything remotely close to that," I glanced at Mother in the front seat, but her head was turned toward the passing scenery; apparently lost in thought.  In reality, I knew she was scared to death—at wit’s end as to how to handle my situation.

"That's not fair, Mr. Sampson. Your mother has been worried sick about you," Rose said in Mother’s defense.

"You see now that's the problem, I don't need anyone to be worried sick about me. I need my family to be optimistic about my full recovery instead of speaking about my condition like I am going to die soon. You know the doctors only gave me two years, right?" I said to Rose with a glint of anger in my eyes. I was not really angry; I was just tired of being looked at with pity.

"Don't talk like that, Jiraiya. You know we care about you and we just cannot act like everything is alright when it isn’t." Her voice rose to a high pitch as Mother turned to look at me from the front seat. Rose reached over to give my hand a squeeze as I sat there and remained quiet.

"He just keeps spewing nonsense.” It was Father’s turn now; he spoke for the first time. He had been quiet since we got into the car; he had hardly said a word at the hospital and I was soon going to find out why. "You talk like we have lost hope in you, but you should ask yourself where is that whore you planned to marry?  Has she given up on you completely? She doesn't even think you two can make it beyond this. Where is she now?" My father raged.

"Don't talk like that, Frank.”  My mother tried to make him speak less viciously but I knew, deep within me, that he was right.

He wasn’t right about everything but he was right about this thing. Gracen should have been here with me; but she wasn’t.  I felt very bad about it, but I consoled myself with the thought that I understood. She had said it was work-related and maybe it was.  But the face of that man kept popping up in my mind.

I tried pushing the image out of my mind. The harder I tried, the harder it became. Well, I guess my time with Gracen is over. I’m no longer of value to her and I just need her to say it. I want her to look me in the eye and tell me that she doesn’t want me anymore. I know that she loves me; or at least the person I used to be.  I guess the illness is just too much. I wonder if I will die alone, with no one at my side.