Heres one of my brothers unreleased short stories. Hes been gone for one year yesterday. This is what his life was like when he first got sick. He was such a good writer. Cancer story The room was large and littered with senior citizens. They all sat in leather(ish) recliners, attached by tubing to a plastic bags suspended by metal poles beside them. Some read books or fiddled with tablets. Many of them merely sat with their heads back and mouths open, ready to eat whatever a rambunctious young cancer patient might happen throw in them. To my right, a woman in her forties looked at herself in small hand mirror. Her hair was black and looked as though it belonged to a twenty two year old woman who wanted to look kooky and artsy. She took it off and began to cry. I found a recliner and un-buttoned the top two buttons of my shirt. I didnt know if I was going to throw up or not. I laid back, closed my eyes and laid my wrist across my forehead. Hi, she said. I opened my eyes. It was a greying-blonde in her early forties. Before her she held a box filled with with slim sheets of cardboard and tags popping from between them. One said, $3 the other said, Misc. Hey, Hi, she went on, Im an artist and I make these cards and I wanted to know if you wanted one. What? I asked, playing up my already dire condition. I make these cards? No, I said. No, thank you., and put my wrist over my eyes. I waited a few minutes and a smart looking nurse in her mid-thirties walked up to where I sat. Hey Alex, she said. Hows it going? I had become popular with the nurses after frequent visits as the youngest person in the room. (Twenty eight.) Im feeling kinda horrible, I told her. Oh no… Nausea? Id say yeah, theres probably a little nausea going on here. She put her hand on my knee. Aww, well well get you some Kyrtrel, mmk? Awesome, thank you.. She opened up my shirt found the Power Port (™) access point in my chest and began washing it down with a soft wet sponge attached to the end of a small handle. She threw the sponge away and pulled the clear plastic tubing off of a needle extending out from the center of a cap that fit perfectly over the access point. Then she jammed it into my chest. I was used to it. There was a small plastic bag full of chemicals sitting on a very sterile looking bedside table. She picked it up and hung on top of a six and a half foot, pole on wheels. She connected that bag to my access point using a few feet of plastic tubing. The tubing was then ran through box attached to the pole, a machine used to pump the toxic chemicals directly into my heart. A syringe appeared in her hand and she attached it to the pipeline. Heres you Kytrel, she told me. I began to feel better almost immediately.
Posted on: Sat, 11 Oct 2014 04:05:23 +0000
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