In Sickness and In Health

​Tuesday, July 23, 2019, 10:00 a.m. my cell phone is ringing.

I try to answer the call, but the swap button refuses to work.

I listen to the message on speaker:

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The message is actually Dr. Heather Donato. Who knew? She is capable of actually contacting a patient, unlike after my previous surgery and unlike sending plagiarized photocopies.

I immediately call her back. I am sent to voicemail and leave a message with Dr. Donato’s nurse.

Our apartment is a loft. Their are only seven doors in our place, one of which goes to the bedroom but the wall does not even reach the ceiling. There is no privacy, there are no secrets, and all phone calls are shared.

Neither Jamie nor I are at work for the day. We spend it cleaning and purging from merging our belongings while completing our move into this apartment. As we wait for the AT&T technician, who is hours late to install our home internet, Jamie is doing more reminiscing than cleaning.

“Babe, who else do you think I need to talk about it with?”

“Unno."

"I don't know either."

We wait for Dr. Donato or her nurse to call back. Nobody from McDonald + Murrmann returns my call.

At 6:15pm my cellphone rings. I am searching in the pantry when I answer, “Hello.”

An automated voice message begins speaking, declaring, “appointment on Thursday, July 25 at 1pm,” and a notice to arrive 30 minutes early to complete paperwork before the appointment.

There is no further information. There is no office name, no doctor’s name, no address, nothing. But in this moment I am only concerned about getting the appointment in my calendar and preoccupied with cooking dinner.

It is 9:15pm, Jamie is already in bed and half asleep. The room is lit by the television, Netflix.

I’m getting ready for bed, tinkering between the closet, bedroom, and master bath.

“Babe? That doctor’s appointment...it didn’t have their name on the automated voice message. I wonder who they are?"

He has a habit of responding in his sleep, "I'on know."

I sit on the edge of my side of our bed and unlock my phone. I pull up Safari that defaults to my Favorites. I go directly to Google and flip between Recents phone calls, typing in the mystery doctor appointment phone number, “9-0-1-2-2-6-4-2-8-0” then click search.

My eyes frantically search the results of the phone number:

Only one word stands out, “Oncologist.”

My eyes begin to blur. My mind is racing, like a car that is in neutral but the driver's foot is pressing the gas to the floorboard.

"Oncologist," I know that word - it means cancer doctor. You don’t just go to an oncologist unless you have cancer. They don’t send you to an oncologist for nothing!

I cannot control my own body. This noise escapes from deep inside me. It's guttural. Gasping for air, I sob. My face is wet. My nose is running uncontrollably to the point that I have slugs.

I feel Jamie’s warm hand on the small of my back, “Hey, what’s going on?”

Wiping my left palm up and across my nose I end up with a hand full of slime. I’m cupping my hand and just looking at it with blurry vision. It’s shiny in the light of television. I don’t know what to do but sit there dumbfounded.

I try to speak, but I can’t get it out. I choke on my thoughts. I am blowing snot bubbles and trying to stifle my sobbing. But it's uncontrollable and coming so hard I can't catch my breath.

Jamie and I just got married - it hasn’t even been two months yet. I have cancer? And Jamie is stuck with a sick person? All of our ideas, plans, desires are halting. I’m sick; I don’t feel sick. I’m dumping this on him. It’s being dumped on me. We just met, fell in love, and got married in a hurry. This is all still so new.

I understand the vows we live, “in sickness and in health." But, I’m not going to hold him back or force him to stay if he’s not in it, doesn’t want to be in it, or doesn’t want to/can’t/won’t be strong enough to go through this. It’s not fair to force Jamie into this situation. I'll let him go.

Jamie is up, leaning on his right hip and right forearm. His left arm is around my left shoulder and he is embracing and pulling me towards his chest. He is cradling me. He is warm. Jamie is always warm.

Suddenly, my mind kicks in drive, I realize I am holding a hand full of snot. I need a Kleenex. I need an entire box of Kleenexes, immediately. I try to pull away from Jamie as I slide my phone across the sheets towards him.

Through inaudible sobs I blurt, “If you want to leave me, you can.”

Jamie has adjusted himself to be sitting up without the aid of his arm. He is still holding me to his warm chest. He is so strong, his arm has me locked in place. With his right hand he picks up the phone, glances at the screen, and immediately discards it back on the sheets, like it is garbage, “Don’t be stupid, I married you for forever.”

Gently, he turns me towards him, pulling me into his chest, and cradles my body as he lays us down. He holds on so tight there is no escaping. He consoles and caresses as I cry and blubber into his chest. With consistent repetition he traces his fingertips over my shoulder and back.

He is comforting and reassuring. He is calming. My breathing slows.

My head is resting on Jamie’s chest. His heartbeat is steady. His voice is mellow. The scent of soap on his skin is soothing. He is safe.

This is how I fall sleep.

Jamie internalizes issues. He does not sleep at all tonight.