They say there are 5 stages of grief.
"Mr. Thomas, did you hear me?"
But they never tell you that denial hits you like a truck.
"Mr. Thomas, we need to discuss your options. Are you listening?"
Options? I have...options?
"Wait, what?" I asked, the dull lighting of the medical office attacked my vision like when I had first walked in.
Dr. Benavides looked at me with a grim expression, a deep frown setting on her face. The empathy weaving itself in her tan skin made the denial I felt weigh even heavier. It was a look that I knew she had become all but used to, the weariness only leaving my body feeling antsy.
"Mr. Thomas, I'm aware the news is hard to stomach," she said, leaning forward to rest her chin on her hands, "But, unfortunately, we have to discuss what your options going forward are."
I stared deeply into her dark eyes hidden behind her large round glasses, my eyes searching for anything to prove that it was all a dream, a farce, or even a horribly planned prank. Anything. Anything to shine a light into the dark place my mind threatened to fall into once I left this office and was surrounded by the realness of the world. This wasn't fair.
"What are my options?" I asked, the sound of my voice sounding foreign to me.
She looked at me. Her demeanor relaxed as she pulled a file from her desk, placing it in front of me.
"In this folder, states one of two options that we have regarding your condition. I'm sorry Mr. Thomas, but this is all we can offer you." She stated.
I reached forward, my hand shaking as I slowly grabbed the manila folder. I struggled to contain my fight or flight response, my hands pulling the folder open. What I saw inside made my feet feel like they had become encased in cement. Like I had been thrown into an ice cold river to sink to the bottom and sleep with the fishes. At least in that scenario I knew I would meet my end in a few minutes. Anything was better than waiting to die.
"What is this?" I asked.
"That," Her head tilted forward acknowledging the contents of the folder, "Is paperwork for admittance into hospice."
My body went numb.
The cement shoes I had envisioned becoming even more real.
"Hospice? Why do I need to be admitted into hospice?" I sputtered, looking from the paperwork to her back to the paperwork, "How long do I have?"
"Mr. Thomas."
I felt like I was drowning.
"No, you can't just give me paperwork like this and expect me to not ask these questions."
I needed air.
"Mr. Thomas."
Why were the walls closing in?
"That's not fair! What about this seems fair to you?!"
"Mr. Thomas, you need to calm down."
But I couldn't hear her.
"But I feel fine! I only came in for a headache. Just a simple headache." My face suddenly felt so wet.
"Breathe. Cal, you need to breathe."
My vision was starting to shake as it blurred.
"This is all a dream!" I cried. "That's right, just a dream. I'm asleep in the waiting room.... I'm just asleep in the waiting room."
"MR. THOMAS!"
A pair of hands clapped onto my shoulders. I blinked my eyes as Dr. Benavides's dark eyes looked deeply into mine, my body frozen in shock.
"Breathe. Please." She stated. Her hands squeezed my shoulders slightly.
I started to breathe. My chest ached as I started to take shallow breaths, my eyes still locked with hers. I had not realized, in my frantic state, that I had forgotten to breathe. Dr. Benavides started to mimic me, breathing deeply in long drawn out breaths.
"There you go. Breathe in," She instructed, making sure to inhale along with me, "Now exhale."
She took the folder from my hands, allowing me to wipe my face. Tears had soaked my face during my outburst, the embarrassment of the entire thing started to burn in my face.
"Mr. Thomas, are you alright?" Dr. Benavides asked, taking her seat once more.
I looked at her for a long minute before nodding. I could not find the words to speak, the episode still fresh on my mind.
"I understand that this is a lot to take in," She said. "But unfortunately due to the type of brain cancer you have, and the stage that it is in, we likely need to make arrangements for you."
I still sat, too scared to speak, as the weight of my fear grabbed at my vocal cords.
"Look. You do not have to choose hospice, but that is an option. The other option is that you can go about your life until ultimately the cancer runs its course."
My body cringed inward at the sound of her words, "What happens if I decide to leave?"
My voice sounded like nothing more than a whisper, but it could be heard in the silence of the room. I didn't even recognize the sound of it, it sounded like someone else. Someone I hadn't heard in a long time.
"Well if you decide on that option, we will prescribe you medication to handle any pain if you feel any." She explained.
"Pain?" I asked.
"You may experience pain as your condition progresses. The medication is to make it bearable and to try to help you be as comfortable as possible." She added.
Comfort. That word seemed to burn its way into my skin, the irony setting me on edge. What type of comfort was there in death? Was I supposed to feel relieved that one day I was going to go to sleep and that was it? The longer I sat staring at Dr. Benavides, the heavier my body felt. The thought of drowning again seemed to creep along the precipice of my mind. But I didn't think I would be able to have another episode without the nurses being called in to restrain me.
"How long do I have?" I asked again, my throat feeling tight.
Dr. Benavides's face grew tired, "After looking at your test results and the scans, we predict that you only have just right at a month left."
The back of my eyes burned at the sound of her words. One month. One fucking month. My life had come down to 30 days—if I was even meant to be that lucky. I looked down to see my white knuckled fists resting against my jeans, all of my will power focused on not losing my shit once again. I slowly closed my eyes, remembering that I still needed to breathe. It hurt to press the feeling in my throat down, like I was being strangled by my own denial and anger. I pushed every scream, every obscenity I wanted to scream at anyone that would hear it, down. To push all the tears I knew I would shed. To push the anguish of knowing that there was nothing I could do to stop it. In the end there was only one thing I felt once everything was gone, besides the returning numbness.
I felt helpless.
"Do I have to make my decision right now?" I asked, my voice feeling even tighter than before.
"No, you don't," She replied. "But we also don't want you to make your decision at the last minute."
"Can I have some time?"
"Take all the time you need, Mr. Thomas." She placed the folder back in her desk and out of my sight, "How about I call you in about a week? So that you have enough time to decide."
I felt my face soften as I looked at the warmth she expressed in her eyes, "Thank you."
"Before I let you go, do you have any next of kin that I can contact just in case I can't get a hold of you?" She asked, looking at her calendar next to her desk.
I unclenched my fists, "No, I don't"
"No? I could have sworn I had a couple names listed as emergency contacts in your file," She looked puzzled.
I shrugged my shoulders, "It's only just me now."
"Oh." she replied.
Her eyes searched mine to see what I meant by what I said, her expression rightfully confused. A few emotions passed over her face before she realized the meaning of my words the more she thought about it.
"Oh."
"I think I should be able to answer you, when you call" I stated, finally finding the willpower to stand up.
"Are you sure there is no one that can answer in your stead, if you are not able to? I could have sworn that you had a partner listed as an emergency contact, what was his name?" She asked.
I looked at her with a sad smile, "His name was Jason."
"Oh that's right," She smiled, "He always used to accompany you on your check ups, right? I hadn't seen him in a long time, since your last appointment several months ago."
My flight response returned in full force, my legs itching to run away. The cement that had encased my feet, moments ago, broke away at the thought of Jason. "Yes, he was there."
As the words left my mouth her eyes softened with an even deeper empathy. The look burned into me as she stared at me. I knew—right at that painstaking moment— that I never wanted to see that look again, once I left her office. I really wanted that phone call.
"Oh," She said. "How long?"
I started to edge towards the door. "5 months tomorrow."
"I'm sorry to hear that. What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"
My body went rigid with her question. Apparently, my foreseeable death was not the only thing I would have to cope with today.
"Car accident. It was late one night, there was rain, and the other driver had had a little too much to drink."
"I'm so sorry," She said. "Are you going to be alright on the way home? I know everything must have been overwhelming today."
Overwhelming was an understatement.
"No it's okay, I live above my flower shop. So if I need anything to help me process all... of.. this. I'm sure I could find something," I replied, hoping that answer would suffice. I needed to get out of that hospital. Now.
"Okay, well if you need anything I am just a phone call away. If I don't contact you within the week," She stated, opening the door to her office.
I gave her one last small smile. "Of course."
With that I slipped out of her office and into the chaos of the hospital. I walked through the congested hallways, everything looking like a mesh of colors as I focused on nothing but the bright red letters in the distance. The exit sign. I had bypassed the elevator, taking the door to the stairwell swiftly, my feet gliding over the downward steps. Everything had become a blur. I had not even remembered leaving the hospital until a warm breeze passed over my face, the cluttered parking lot coming into my view.
The events of everything that just happened caught up to me before I could think about looking for my car. My tears came first, as well as the overwhelming sense of wanting to throw up. I covered my mouth, killing the screams that wanted to erupt from my body and towards the heavens. It was still not fair. Not fair, at all.
The sound of the ringtone from my cell phone made me jump out of my skin. I reached into my pocket to see who in the world could be calling me at a time like this. The name flashing across the screen hit me like a bucket of ice water, it was someone I knew I was never going to avoid. My best friend Nathan was the one person in this world who needed me more than I needed myself. Fear was all I could feel at the thought of talking to him, my hand immediately coming up to my cheeks to wipe off the mess that was my face.
I took a slow breath, placing the phone to my ear with a smile plastered on my face, "Hey Nate."
"Cally Cal! Where are you, babe?" He whined. "You were supposed to be here 15 minutes ago. That mystery man you and Danny set me up with should be here in the next half hour. I need you here!"
Nathan's signature whine, in a strange way, grounded me. I had forgotten about my promise to him, but not without good reason. Yet it did not distract me from my current situation. Even if I desperately wanted it to.
"I'm sorry," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose, "My doctor's appointment ran late, and I hadn't had a chance to look at my phone, Nate."
"Why do you sound funny? Are you alright?" He asked.
I could picture him putting his hand on his hip in a sassy manner, his head tilted like always when he wanted to know something. I smiled. My mind instantly pushed away the thoughts of my impending doom and sterile hospital beds, a small sense of normalcy coming back to me.
"I'm fine," I said. "I'm heading your way right now."
"Thank the gods! Now hurry it up, I don't have much time and I really want to wow him," He whined.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," I replied, hanging up with a chuckle.
I immediately looked for my car, pushing everything in my mind to the side. There was no time to dwell when Nathan had reminded me about the promise I had made him. He deserved love more than anyone I knew, and—despite the soul crushing circumstances—nothing was going to stop me from getting him his prince charming.
Death be damned.