The Fight (Republished)

Chapter 4: Turn

Promises, promises. I sigh as I write this, then struggle to find the next words to type onto the page. I never thought I'd be the one in the hospital bed with cancer after seeing others there before me. My wife had battled through her long bout with cancer, but now it was my turn.

Writing this on my laptop from the hospital, I lie here, knowing that this turn of events was never expected. My wife and our four children were at home together and I was here, all alone.

Hooked up to a machine and disconnected from the world I knew and loved. The only noise I had in my room was the beeping equipment I was hooked up to and the noise I would make when I cleared my throat. Outside my room I could hear nurses walking by- more so during the day than at night - and occasionally people visiting others who were in the same situation as me, or worse. I knew things could have been worse, but I was finally in my wife's shoes from a long time ago. I was lying there in bed, knowing exactly how it felt to be helplessly locked away in a cement building in hopes of leaving with a full recovery.

When they told me I had cancer, it didn't come as a huge shock. I had been experiencing pain in my abdomen more than usual and I was bleeding on a regular basis. When I was first told that I had IBS at around age eighteen, I thought it was just a matter of taking a pill with food. As the years progressed, I still suffered, sometimes in silence as most people wouldn't understand the seriousness of the pain I would occasionally be in.

It took me many years of a job that I didn't enjoy to finally turn my life around. Add in a horrible breakup from a girl I dearly loved and you have the perfect mix to create that rock bottom feeling. I started to build again, starting with working out on a regular basis and then changing my diet drastically in hopes that my body would feel better. Sometimes I would eat things out of curiosity of my tolerance for them after not eating them for quite some time. This would occasionally go badly for me and sometimes eating healthy didn't even cut it if I splurged on dessert, or overate.

My new lifestyle was better than my old, but it still wasn't perfect if I slacked off just a tiny bit. I tried to be as strict as possible with myself, but it was difficult always being on the go with my kids. My wife and I both needed to eat healthy because neither of us had perfectly functioning bodies. We knew what pain felt like due to having similar issues with our bodies, but I was only just finding out how severe it truly became. She had experienced this level of pain for much longer than me and now I was getting to ride that rollercoaster.

Getting a full dose of pain medication that made me forget how my body was being attacked, I would lie comfortably in the hospital bed until I became restless, or needed to use the washroom. The nurses wouldn't bother me too often for top ups on my IV drip, or pain medication, so I would sneak in as many push-ups and other free weight exercises that I could to calm my body. It didn't always work, but I had nothing to lose by trying.

I just realized that I didn't tell you why I'm not on the road to recovery like my wife was with the new cancer treatments. Apparently my cancer is much more aggressive than hers and I need a much longer and intensive treatment to see the same results. There's no guarantee that it will end up working for me though...

I pause while thinking about what I just typed for you to read... I'm even hesitating right now to type more. I keep tapping on the spacebar after every sentence in hopes that it is some sort of eject button from my current predicament. I don't want to be here anymore and yet it's only been a week and a half. My wife has her hands full with the kids and some family members are stepping in to babysit so that she can get back to work to pay for our bills with me in here.

I sigh again... I look down at my bed sheets and feel the tears begin to build up. Medicine will hopefully do a good job battling the cancer in my body... I hang my head and then try to breathe. My nose is stuffed up; something to do with the air in the hospital I figure... Staring at the floor of my tomb - sorry - my room... I begin to feel drained more than usual. I sleep when I can, but because I'm not doing anything, my body mainly wants to sleep now. This is not recovery, this is bullshit. I want out and I want out now.

My wife said she was going to see me today, but I haven't heard from her yet. I hate cellphones, they're never one-hundred percent reliable... I can't help but sigh and yawn all day long. I'm running on fumes as I wait for visitors, or the green light to go home. I'd like to see my kids too, but I don't think my wife wants to bring them in just yet. I look just about as pale as she did when I went to visit her before we got married.

Looking up at the ceiling as if I could see my creator, I wonder if this is another test for me, or if it's a test for my wife and I will be dead soon. Best-selling author dies at age forty-three from bowel cancer - yeah, that sounds like a good headline for a newspaper article telling of my last day.

I look at the clock on the laptop and see that it's only 1:28 pm. My wife is so beautiful... I love her so much and her smile lights a fire in me every time I see it...