Coffee

Part Twenty-Three: Three Dots

"I always wanted my first tattoo to be a panda. I don't know why, I just always like the thought of it. Thought it would be cool. But my first girlfriend convinced me to get a heart...it's not as cool as a panda...but three dots? That's not cool at all." Max prattles on as he lays shirtless on the table underneath the green radiation sensor. I gather the dye and needle- among other things I need and pull my gloves on.

"Yes, but these three dots help the machine line up within a millimeter of your tumor- so that's kinda of cool." I say and come over. I look down at him and think back to the whole weekend we spent curled up in each other's arms. How safe I felt and how natural it was.

"Why couldn't it be like a bad ass tiger or something?"

"I get your nervous...but it'll be okay." Placing a hand on his arm, I look into the big scared eyes of his. There's a slight tremor throughout his body as well. "When are you going to tell the staff?"

"I was sort of hoping they wouldn't notice."

"Max." He needs to stop this. It's not going to get any easier on him. "A week into your chemo you're going to start vomiting constantly. You'll be fed through a tube in your stomach. You won't be able to swallow and you'll have hair and weight loss. So what I'm saying is..."

"They're gonna notice. Yeah. I get it...." He closes his eyes and sighs. I know it's frustrating for him. For anyone- to be perceived as anything else than themselves. Men are often the ones who struggle the most. A proud species they are. To be seen as weak makes them feel emasculated. "I'll tell them...some how."

Leaning down, I kiss his lips and then grab the dye and the needle to push it into his skin.

"Now, hold still. Don't move." I pour the dark blue dye on his chest, it gathers around his chest hair and I can tell he's nervous. "Imagine it's a panda."

Pushing the needle into his skin over the dye, I work the needle around to make sure I get enough in there. Then I do the same with the last two before setting the supplies down on the cart and tacking a napkin to soak up the extra dye. Tossing the napkin in the bin along with the gloves, I turn to find him still laying there staring at the machine above him.

No doubt he's contemplating his mortality in all this. Going back to him, I push my fingers through his hair and gaze into his oceans.

"Want to talk?" I ask and he takes a long blink and sits up. Standing in between his legs, I look at the three dots on his chest. Wrapping his arms underneath mine, he rests his head into the crook of my neck and just nuzzles me slightly. Rubbing my nails gently up and down his back, I feel his breath on my neck and wish I could take his fears away. Hell, I wish I could take his cancer away without having to destroy him in the process. "What's wrong, Darling?"

Darling....again with this. Why does it just naturally roll off my tongue?

I feel him smile slightly upon hearing it and he leaves two little kisses on my neck.

"I'm just not ready." He quietly says.

"Max, we can't push it back any more. We need to..."

"I mean I'm not ready to leave...everyone." Oh...oh no.

"Max, you're not going anywhere..." I try to sound confident- but cancer has always proven to be hard to predict the outcomes. There are times patients have a 75% survival rate and they still end up dying. Others sometimes only have 2 months to live and they go on to live twelve more years. Cancer is not precise. It's ever changing and always painful to bare both as patient and loved one- even as the doctor.

"I'm not ready to run out of time..."

"Darling, stop...stop, we can't do this. It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay." I try so hard to sound calm, but inside I'm just as worried and just as sickened by all the possible outcomes.