When I Die [Wattys 2016]

Chapter 45: The Death Bed

I wasn't wrong, but god I wanted to be. After graduation, my mom had found Myra and I outside of the annex. I was still on the ground when she found me, sitting a foot away from last night's pasta. She quickly went from pride to concern. Before I knew it, I was back at the hospital. Dr. Ballard came in on his night off to see me.
"Leo, the cancer... it's just everywhere," he'd said. His face was solemn, like he was letting me down by telling me the truth. My mom and dad stood next to me, weariness on their faces.
I was in agony. Pure agony. I was laid back on the cot, legs pulled up, trying to make myself as small as possible. I wanted to collapse into myself, like a star, imploding. I'd burn up quickly, there'd be no more pain. Up until this point, I hadn't hit a point where I wanted to die to escape the pain. When my grandfather passed, people always said, "well, at least he's in no more pain," and I never understood that until I was in this position.
"The cancer has spread, it's taking up the space between your stomach and your lungs," Dr. Ballard went on to say.
"Well what does that mean, exactly?" My mom had said.
"Well it means he will experience a great deal of pain if he eats too much, or breathes too deeply. I will need to speak to hospice to make sure they know what to do."
I was shaking, uncontrollable tremors from head to foot. My stomach was on fire, and my lungs felt like they might burn up. I was covered in a sheen of sweat.
"Leo, are you listening?" I heard one of them say, and in response, I groaned,
"Trash," my mom yanked the trash bin up and beside my head, letting me take care of business. It was pure hell. I hoped I was nice enough to go to heaven because I couldn't imagine something worse than this.
"We're going to send him home with a list full of narcotics," Dr. Ballard said.
My mom snapped back,
"Send him home? Look at him!" My mom shouted and my dad tried to calm her.
"Jackie, we've all known this was coming for a while now... it's time to take him home... the hospice staff will meet you there to get him comfortable," the Doctor gave a sympathetic look.
I saw my mom shake her head, holding her face. Tears spilled between her fingers.
"It's not time... not yet..."
My dad pulled her into him. I think they thought I was asleep.
"Jackie, we're going to get through this... right now we need to do what's best for Leo... and we need to keep it together, for him." I swallowed thickly. The pain was eating me alive.
My mom nodded, still obviously unsure of herself, she stepped around to my head and rubbed it, her cool hand felt nice on my forehead.
"Okay. It's time to really go home."

The hospice nurses met us at home. I'd been doped up on every narcotic known to man. I felt a mix of relief, exhaustion, and nausea, all battling for the forefront of my attention. Exhaustion won, easily. I threw up twice and headed to my bedroom. My mom and dad stayed with the hospice nurses downstairs.

When I woke up the next day, I realized it was mid-day already. I was in quite a bit of pain, but it's funny how your threshold grows when you've experienced the deepest pain imaginable. I was now experiencing about a 4 on my new and improved pain scale. Before, this 4 would have probably been a 7.
I sat up, taking account of the world around me. I really thought I'd have died in my sleep, which is an awful thought, but at least it's an honest one.
I sat forward, nauseated and dizzily made my way through my bedroom and into the hallway. I worked my way downstairs, slowly and as carefully as possible. I didn't know how I'd get back up then. I stepped foot into the living room where my parents sat. Surrounding a giant, ugly, painful reminder of how unwell I was. A hospital bed sat beside the couch, caddy-cornered between the recliner.
"Leo, hey baby," my mom said softly. I could tell this was hurting her, too.
I rubbed my eye and held a hand over my belly which ached.
"Did you sleep well?" My dad asked.
"I guess," I croaked out.
I blinked at the bed intruding our living room. This is the place you come to live, not to die. It's in the name, I thought.
"Why is this here?" I asked, stepping forward.
"It's for you to sleep in, Leo. I just think you'll be more comfortable from here on out..." I shook my head. I knew I'd wanted her to acknowledge my fate before, but now I wanted her to stop. I wanted to go back to pretending. I knew we couldn't.
"We've put it off as long as possible, son... this will be easier on all of us, especially you," my dad said.
I closed my eyes tight, taking inventory of the increasing pain in my chest and gut. It was about a 6 now.
"I just... I'm worried, if I get in it, I won't get out. That's my deathbed," I muttered, wetting my dry and chapped lips. My mom hadn't thought of it that way, I could tell. It phased her for a moment, and there was a beat of silence before she said,
"You will be comfortable, Leo."
My head ached and I nodded. I think normally I would cry a bit, or maybe get angry, and that may have been what they expected, but I had none left to give.
"Okay, then," I coughed.
I walked over towards the bed, adorned with fresh linens and many pillows. I pulled the covers back and climbed in. It smelled clean, like the day I'd come home from the hospital and laid in my bed upstairs. I breathed in the smell of the cotton and sunk into the bed. My mom and dad looked on nervously, but I had no tricks up my sleeve. No arguments or surprises. I was spent. I had no energy. I had no strength. I wanted to go down swinging, but I wasn't sure if I would.
The doctors had, at first, given me the ambitious prognosis of 6 months to a year, but they were now saying it was more like three to six months. I think I expected that. I remember thinking I would be surprised if I made it to the six-month mark. It felt so unobtainable. Three months would be easier. I could hang in there for that.
In three months, it would be September.
Myra and Reid would leave for college. Sam would start the tenth grade. Hattie would start first grade. Everyone would be changing. It would be a year from when I was first diagnosed. It would come full circle.
I didn't know if I was ready for this resignation, but I didn't know what else to do. My
Leg shook up and down in anticipation. I was anxious and aching. My stomach hurt, and my head spun.
My mom hooked up the IVs like the hospice nurses showed her, and she was a natural. She got a vein the first time which was a real feat when going up against my battered veins. Quickly, the liquid life moved into me and spread throughout me, calming my nerves and taking my 6 to a 2. I laid back and let the sleep overwhelm me. I'd only stayed awake for two hours today.
I decided I would try again tomorrow. I had nothing left to give.