Monday, July 7, 2008

'The Man' Tales - When Morning Came

When morning came, I scooted down to the cafeteria for my breakfast and took it back with me to Cid’s room. His breakfast arrived about the same time as I did, and we sat up on the bed together and ate – just like we use to do at my kitchen counter. We talked about the imminent arrival of Cid’s mother and how that would change everything. I kissed Cid’s stubbly cheek when he rolled his eyes and shook his head over how his mother was going to react to everything. It had been quiet and cozy with just the two of us while his uncle went to Lethbridge to pick up his mother. These were stolen moments – and we knew it.

Cid was halfway through his nebulizer treatment when the gurney arrived to take him down for an xray to see if the radiation had helped. I marvelled at Cid’s graceful and kind manner with everyone he dealt with – from nurse to porter to doctor. I kept telling myself to remember this – remember this. Don’t let it slip through those holes that had appeared with the mental breakdown - and to take these memories and learn from them. Afterwards we cuddled on Cid’s bed once more and waited for the doctor.

That wait was hard.

We held each other tightly, barely moving away from each other as time ticked by. When the doctor walked into the room, I thought I was going to throw up with the apprehension I felt, and my mind reeled as I wondered how Cid was feeling. His grip on my hands was tight – his knuckles showing white and my hands turning red under his grasp.

This doctor, who had performed a small miracle on Cid’s brain, now stood in front of us with a blank face and a chart in his hand that we couldn’t see or read. He looked at the two of us, and our obvious love for each other and passion for more life together touched something inside him. I could see it happening. And I could see the answer before he even spoke.

“I’m sorry Cid. I really am. But the radiation didn’t do anything at all. In fact the tumor is growing so quickly and the xrays from yesterday and today already show the obvious change.”

“Perhaps more radiation?” Cid asked so quietly we could hardly hear him.

The doctor bit his lip and shook his head without saying a word.

“Are you sure there isn’t one surgeon that could operate and perform some kind of miracle?” I couldn’t stop hoping and I had to ask. I had to.

This miracle worker, who had given me such hope and happiness, now shook his head and took Cid’s free hand. “I suggest that you call whoever you need to call. Today. The hospital has on call every religious person you might want to talk to.” He paused for a moment and looked at our faces for a moment before he continued. “I’m really sorry.”

When he had gone, Cid and I took a breath and looked at each other. I tried to smile through the tears that were streaming down my face, and Cid reached out and held me without saying a word.

25 comments:

Melanie said...

Hi Aims, well this is one day when Cid surely needs a miracle. I'm glad you were strong and there for him.

Daryl said...

I am glad you stayed strong for Cid, I suspect it was not easy ...

:-Daryl

Crystal Jigsaw said...

You can't even begin to imagine the thoughts that must have been going through Cid's head.

CJ xx

menopausaloldbag (MOB) said...

Bloody heartbreaking and so so sad. I am sitting here trying not to cry at the futility of it all and how both your hearts must have broke together.

Amazing writing as usual.

Leatherdykeuk said...

Poor Cid.

I expect he was more worried about you.

softinthehead said...

What terrible news for you both. Another real test for you aims, life seems to keep throwing them at you :)

Biddie said...

You are a rock. I could not have gone through this with the grace that you and cid showed...

Lane said...

No miracle then.

All I can say is that you must have given Cid so much comfort.

Poor Cid.

Amy said...

What a heartbreaking moment. I'm sorry you went through so much.

Breezy said...

Oh no

I Beatrice said...

Truly heartbreaking, even at this distance. I am seeking what comfort I can from the lines of Dylan Thomas, in the poem he wrote for his dying father...

"Do not go gentle into that good night.......

Rage, rage against the dying of the light”

Poor Cid went gentle I think, though with infinite grace. Perhaps the raging was left to you – and just a little to us, your readers?

I am raging here - but oh, so sad too!

Anonymous said...

Oh, Aims, my heart just sunk. I'm so sorry. Margie

travelling, but not in love said...

How you dealt with all this, I don't know.

So hard. Too hard. Unfair.

Lane said...

ps Aims - there's an award for you over at mine:-)

aims said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
aims said...

Melanie - How I wished for another miracle...

Daryl - Hard doesn't even describe it.

Crystal - No I really can't

Mob - Futility - a very good word.

Rachel - You know - I never thought about that. You are probably right - especially knowing Cid.

SITH - I often wonder why? What did I ever do to deserve some of this?


Biddie - it is amazing where you find strength.

Lane - No. No miracle.

Amy - Yes - my heart broke right then and there. I felt it. I heard it.

Breezy - I know.

Dearest B - Beautiful words. Beautiful.

Margie - I understand completely.

TBNIL - Very very unfair. Cruel.

Lane - been and picked it up. Thank you my friend.

John-Michael said...

I can only allow my Self to consider, who I have been blessed to come to know, as who you are becoming ... after the maze of attacks on your emotions and thoughts that you have survived. And that consideration is both an encouragement, and a blessing.

I do, indeed, love this Person, who is known to me as Aims.

Stinking Billy said...

aims, baby, whether you get published or not, you have without a doubt the distinction of being the most loved blogger. Doesn't the Best of Blogs Awards have a category for that? They should.

rosiero said...

How awful for you both. What must Cid have been thinking.

Mima said...

I just can't imagine how awful that must have been for you both to go through, I'm sure that you being there with him gave him a great deal of comfort. I know that when I have had bad news, that hand holding mine has really helped. Oh how I wish that this had a different ending for you both, if it was a work of fiction rather than real life then it surely would.

Maggie May said...

This is terrible. Heart wrenching. I seem to have a lot of catching up to do. Can't think why!

Valleys Mam said...

sometimes a comments sounds trite in my head, just warm thoughs and hope for some good things for you

Jay said...

Ah, that's just heart-rending.

As a newcomer to your blog, I've just gone back to find out who Cid is and read three or four of the posts about his cancer and treatment and hospital visits/stays. I can't read anymore right now - it's too awful. And I feel guilty about that because it's clearly so much more awful for you and Cid.

Sending you a ton of hugs and prayers. He does indeed need a miracle.

Irene said...

I, for one, am protesting loudly at this outcome and refuse to accept it. I am expecting a miracle, although I did not see one with my son and I know the inevitable will happen. Get ready to love eternally that what isn't there anymore, but what always is around you. Forever and ever.

bichonpawz said...

Oh, aims.....I am hurting for you both and praying for a miracle. You are a rock, my dear!