Chapter 1: part 10.

Continued from part 9

The next morning as I walked to the hospital, I stared into the faces of everyone I passed. Life was going on, just as though there was a reason, a plan. It was so hard to understand. Are the people on this street really so resilient? I felt so disconnected from them and from life.

They were eating hot dogs, bought from the vendor with the stainless steel cart, some were eating ice cream cones from another vending cart; no one seemed to know that life would never be the same again. Were any of them hurting? They had to be. Could anyone know I was hurting? Perhaps I hid it as well as they did.I felt tears on my face.

Hal looked uncomfortable and groggy. I kissed him and stroked his hair. I asked him if he had seen the doctor that morning and he said he didn't think so.

Then he gave me an intent look and asked, "Did they get it all out?"

I froze. I didn't know what to do; the doctor said he would tell him and I didn't know whether I had the strength to do this. I didn't even think of putting him off.

I said, "Well, there are a few spots on your liver."
He looked at me for a while, then nodded and closed his eyes and seemed to be asleep. I was falling apart inside.

The doctor and his team of residents entered around an hour later. As soon as they approached the bed, Hal opened his eyes and immediately became alert as he watched the doctor pull the curtains around the bed. This doesn't block the sound, you understand, it just gives a false semblance of privacy.

Hal listened carefully as the doctor repeated everything I had told him an hour before, adding that the tumor had been as big as a fist. He winced at the news and slowly I realized that Hal had not remembered my talk with him earlier. So much for Demerol. So much for the ulcer that I was probably growing that minute. The doctor spoke optimistically, pouring out a stream of statistics and the words "forty percent survival rate" were repeated again and again. He said Hal would be able to go home in a week. Go home. I never thought he would leave the building. Should he leave the building? I had no ideas what to expect and neither did Hal.

After the doctors left, Hal slept a while; then he opened his eyes and we silently looked at one another. His eyes looked so remote and so sad. We held hands.

I said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. I felt battered and I knew our world had come unglued; was I going to lose him?

This was the way we behaved for a couple of days; we clung to one another, talked about small household matters and avoided this horror that had invaded our world.

Continued in part 11