The Fight (Republished)

Chapter 6: Watching, Waiting

Work has been very understanding through all of this, allowing me as many days off as needed, some even last minute. Yesterday was a day I had off and it was a good thing too, because I ended up staying the whole night.

I arrived at the hospital just after nine after putting the kids to sleep with my mother-in-law. She was going to spend the night with the kids, so I had all the time in the world to spend with my husband. Riding in the elevator, I cringed as it dinged at every floor it passed. It was an annoying notification and made me feel like a clock was counting down to zero.

As I walked down the hall to his room, I tried not to concentrate on how empty and quiet that level seemed. No doors were open to any of the rooms and a skeleton crew of nurses were working - I knew this because it was common to only see one, or two at night. Death seemed to be lurking from outside the hospital windows, keeping pace with my every step as if trying to get me to engage in some sort of fight with it. I kept looking straight ahead, concentrating on each step that I took to ultimately reach my husband's room and then bedside.

When I got to his room, I slowly pushed open the door to find a near pitch black room. I took out my cellphone and used its light to avoid hitting anything on my way over to a chair. I flipped on the bathroom light and left the door open a crack so I could see where he lay. His laptop was still on his bed, but it had gone to sleep, or the battery had died. I picked it up carefully to not disturb him and then sat down in the chair near the middle of his bed.

The laptop booted up out of sleep mode and I found myself looking at his entry that he had recently typed. I thought he would have written more entries, but I guess the transition of being in a less than inspiring environment took its toll on his imagination. The pain medication he was on probably didn't help either, so I guess it was a feat for him to have written anything at all.

Finishing the last line of his entry, I read: "My wife is so beautiful... I love her so much and her smile lights a fire in me every time I see it..."

Tears began to roll down my cheeks as I stared at the words and then at his barely visible sleeping face. He looked so peaceful, but I knew when he woke up that he would feel tortured and trapped because of what was happening to him and where he was. I was here once before; not this exact room, but it all felt the same. He was right, sometimes being there for someone when they don't even know you're there, still matters and means something. He was drowning in here and missed me like crazy. Most of all, he missed seeing my smile.

As I shut off the laptop, I thought about surprising him with a photo of me. He had several on his phone, but I wasn't sure what was currently on his lock screen. I placed the laptop on his side table for when he wanted it later and then found his phone. I turned it on and then instantly began to cry more. The lock screen photo was one of me on our wedding day. I was smiling ear to ear... never happier than that moment. I turned off his phone and put it back.

I was never one for believing in a higher power - a God - but as I looked up into the darkness, I wished that someone would help me, help my husband. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and then navigated around the bed to his other side so I didn't interfere with his IV. I gently crawled into bed with him, lying on my side as he took up most of the bed. I kissed him gently on the cheek and then wrapped my hand around the back of his free one.

One of the nurses walked in to change his IV and morphine bag, smiled at me and then left. I forced a smile back, but that's all I could do. Nothing came naturally, or genuinely anymore. I wanted to be able to place my head on his chest so I could hear his heartbeat. I wanted him to hold me back and tell me that he loves me. I wanted my husband back so that we could carry on with our lives and children.

What I wanted did not matter... what he wanted did, but still, it wasn't up to him. Cancer was in control and the medication and treatments were on the front line now. We would both have to wait and watch as spectators, strapped in until the roller coaster came to a screeching halt.

My husband stirred for a moment and opened his eyes to me. I made sure that he could see my face and gave him my best smile considering how dark it still was. The corner of his mouth pulled as if he was trying to smile and then fell back to sleep before I could even think of what to say to him. I put my head back down on the pillow next to him and then fell asleep.

I don't remember anything after that, other than waking up, kissing his cheek and then writing on his white board to let him know I was there. I wrote, "Smiley was here", with a heart and then came home to relieve my mother-in-law of her duties.