Only in Dreams(71)

“I don’t understand,” I interject, realizing Henry is going to remain silent.

“We knew this was a possibility when we decided to move ahead with the treatment,” Dr. Abbott continues. I look over at Henry who is nodding his head yes. It feels like I’m in the Twilight Zone, everyone around me knowing what is going on except me.

“I’m sorry, what exactly was a possibility?” I question in a stern tone.

Dr. Abbott looks at me with a sympathetic stare, and shifting in his chair so he can more comfortably look me directly in my eyes, says, “The tumor hasn’t reacted to the treatment; in fact, it has increased slightly in mass. There’s nothing else we can do.”

“Wait,” I blurt out. “What do you mean? How can that be?”

“We were all aware this was a likely outcome with this aggressive of a cancer at this late stage. Honestly, we were very fortunate we didn’t have any incidents of infection during the treatment,” Dr. Abbott informs me as if the terminal prognosis of my husband is something I should simply accept and make the best of.

“I’m not understanding. Are you saying we should just be happy an infection didn’t kill him?”

“No, I just meant—”

“Please stop!” I say with a raised voice. “Is there any way we can we try the surgery?”

“I’m sorry, it would kill him.”

“Is there a chance? I mean, hell, according to you the cancer is going to kill him for sure. If he has a chance with the surgery we should do it. Right?”

“Paige,” Henry’s voice is calm, and I feel his hand come to rest on my leg. “It’s going to be okay.”

My head snaps back as I stare at him in disbelief. “This is not okay. I’m not going to be all right with my husband dying.”

“There’s nothing they can do,” he says, which makes me suddenly feel sick to my stomach.

“Now, we do have several grief counseling services available to you,” the doctor begins. I stand and, without a word, I turn and walk out of the office, deciding I’m not going to sit here and discuss all the amazing things they have available to help me cope and deal with the death of my husband.



I’M NOT SURE how long I stand in the hallway, random nurses asking me if I’m okay or if they can get me something. I want to scream at the top of my lungs, ‘No, leave me the fuck alone unless you can create miracles.’

When Henry comes out we don’t speak. I’m not sure he knows what to say to me. He’s the one who has just been delivered the news that he’s going to die; yet he has to worry about me coming unglued. It’s not until we make it all the way back to the apartment that I decide I’m calm enough to apologize for walking out.

The apartment is bright and airy, all of the curtains have been opened and everything cleaned to perfection for our return. I approach the window, just in time to watch a few snowflakes fall through the air.

“It’s starting to snow,” I say, dreading the talk I know we’re about to have.

“Are we going to talk about what happened?” Henry asks, no interest in the weather.

I turn to face him; he’s standing at the back of the couch, watching me. “I’m sorry,” I say in an almost whisper.

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want to know you’re going to be okay.” His words make my eyes fill with tears.

“How can I say I’m going to be okay after hearing you’re going to die?” I look at him, knowing before I ask the question there is no possible answer.

“I know it’s not what we wanted to hear, but—”

“I don’t want to lose you.” My voice cracks as I interrupt. He immediately closes the gap between us, wrapping his arms around me. I crumple into him.

“I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” He sighs, his chin pressing against the top of my head.

I laugh, trying to wipe away the snotty mixture that’s now running out my nose. “You’re the one who is sick, and you’re apologizing. I don’t get you sometimes.”

“I know this isn’t how you imagined wedded bliss.”

“I feel like our lives are just starting. It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not,” he confirms. “But it’s what we’ve got.” I follow as Henry leads me over to the couch. He sits down and then guides me into his embrace, pressing my head against his chest.

“What are we going to do?” I ask, hoping he has a solution to a problem of which, in my heart, I know there is none.

He sits quiet for a moment and then clearly announces, “We’re going to stay just like this, as long as we can.”