Is there something about nervousness that enhances one's senses? Really, maybe it just makes me more observant. But I find myself listening for the sound of a pulse from four yards away, trying to inhale the scent of anything swimming through the air, and watching dust travel across the room, hoping that with this I can accomplish something.
It has been twenty eight hours since Eleazar brought Kasper back, which was at four in the morning yesterday. It's eight AM right now. And all I have been trying to do lately is trying to reel my mind away from the fear that Kasper may not wake up.
It was hard the first twenty four hours. And it still is. But in that twenty four hours, that image of Kasper lying there on the table, covered in blood and sweat, with his chance at survival indefinite, just sat in my every thought. It took me a while to realize that what I needed was a distraction.
I had been reading my journal for a while now. I read some of the entries I already read to refresh my memory. I read that last entry over and over for hours, and for a while, it took away the fear I felt for Kasper. But it was replaced by fear for Cruz. After rereading the entry thirty eight times, I finally shoved my anxiety away, sure that it would return, and turned the page.
Tuesday 6/14/10
I talked to Cruz yesterday. I wish I could have seen it coming, but how could I? How could anyone ever anticipate something like this? I wish I could turn time back to when I last saw him before the news. I wish I could live in that time for eternity. But I've heard too many times that fate can be cruel. I thought I knew proof of this before, but now I can see. I can really see how brutal fate is.
I have to be there for Cruz. I have to care for him, and whatever spirit remains in the time we have. This way, I cannot forget, but in those instances when I am alone I will try to forget the pain. I will try to forget the truth that Cruz has been diagnosed with cancer.
