Monday, December 30, 2013

Leukemia, My Huband and Me: A Turbulent Triangle/ Excerpt

Leukemia, My Husband and Me: A Turbulent Triangle
A Memoir by JC Cerrigone

Im sorry, Mike said, reclining back. I dont think I can go to Kevins party now.
Kevins son Travis was graduating from high school. Kevin and his wife were throwing a party for him on Saturday.
Hell understand. We just need to stay home and get you fixed up, I told him.
No, Mike said sharply. I want you to go. With all that Kevin’s done for us…you need to go, at least for a while.
Okay, as long as youre comfortable with me leaving, I said.
Ill call if I need you. Youll be close to home. Mike flinched as I placed bags of frozen vegetables around his body. His skin held the heat of a fiery flame. I stuck a bag of frozen peas between his legs and a bag of lima beans under each arm.
Jesus, he hissed. Im so damn tired.
I sat down on the bed, taking Mike's hand. His eyes held mine. Shiny tears pooled in his lower lids.
I just dont know, Justine… His words trailed off. I gripped his hand, needing to hang on.
Dont you leave me here, I whispered. You gotta fight and stay strong, like you told me.
Im trying, but my bodys had it. That tormenting silence coated the room, a silence I didnt want to hear. Mike’s raspy voice came through. I love you. I know everything’s been so screwed up, but I do love you. You know that, right?
I nodded. My throat closed off with a tightness I couldn’t swallow away. Mikes gruff voice pushed through the thick air.
Dont you have a hair appointment?
I nodded again.
Go…Ill be fine, he assured me.
I leaned down and kissed him, his lips dry and cracked. As I left the room my mind spun. The disease had become a raging monster, gnashing at the steel bars of a cage that appeared to be weakening. A white flag of surrender was waving in my peripheral vision. I refused to look at it.
* * *
As I drove to the hair salon, the dark, full-bodied voice of Jim Morrison filled the car. This is the end, beautiful friend. This is the end, my only friend, the end. The end of our elaborate plans, the end of everything that stands, the end. No safety or surprise, the end. Ill never look into your eyes again.
The lyrics absorbed into my body as tears rolled down my face. My husband was going to die, and I knew it.
I surrendered, conceding to the flags presence while alone. As stated in one of my favorite films, The Shawshank Redemption“Hope can be a dangerous thing. Its all about taking a chance, a mental game of gambling, that one decides whether or not to believe and take stock in. I had played the hand for almost 16 months, but now it was time to lay my cards on the table, face down. Whatever was meant to happen would happen.

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