Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
At first, I think she’s gone to the store or something but when she’s still not home at five thirty, I begin to panic. I’ve called her all afternoon, but it’s gone to voicemail until it eventually stopped ringing at all. Five thirty creeps to six, and she’s still not home. The sun has set, and the house is dark. I’m so angry/worried I don’t bother to turn the lights on. I take a slow pull of my beer, as I see her headlights swing into the driveway. I look down at my watch and see that it’s six twenty-five. I was supposed to be home at six thirty. The thought that she was with another man enters my mind again and doesn’t go away. Where the fuck would she have gone and then come home just before I do?
“Where have you been?” I ask before she has a chance to say anything. “I have been calling you.” My anger is quick to rise, and I don’t know why. Before she even opens her mouth, I know she’s about to lie to me.
What the fuck is going on?
CHAPTER 5
AUGUST
“Just lay real still. This will be over in just a few minutes, " the radiographer says into her microphone as if I needed her to tell me that. Rolling my eyes, I say nothing and close my eyes.
I left the doctor's office an hour or so ago after having had treatment an hour before that. The chemo has begun now, affecting my ability to stand upright and control my body's movements. It’s a mess. Once this scan is done, I return to her office because I have questions.
“Are we almost done?” I call out. The more I have to do these scans, the more claustrophobic I feel.
“Actually we are all finished. I will be right with you.” Taking a deep breath, I say a quiet thank you because I think if I were in there any longer, I would freak the fuck out.
Once she helps me up and I am placed in a wheelchair back to the office, I am helped into a chair, and the doctor is waiting for me.
“How’s the dizziness and shaking?” Is she serious with this fucking question? How does she think it is?
“It sucks,” I answer, a bit short.
“I would like for you not to come to chemo alone anymore. It is no longer safe for you to be alone afterwards.” Well, too fucking bad.
“I’ll take a cab if I have to.” I have begun getting angrier, finally entering the stages of cancer grief, as some of the patients call it.
Clicking her tongue at me in disapproval, she opens my folder and folds her hands. I understand you have some specific questions for me.” I have avoided this as long as possible, but it has been on my mind lately.
“Will I be able to have children?” Might as well rip the band-aid off. Her face turns sympathetic, and it pisses me off. I don’t need her fucking sympathy. I need her to answer the damn question. Pity has gotten me nowhere.
“That depends, August.”
“On what?”
“On if it goes away without surgery. If we can get it to shrink and disappear with surgical intervention, then yes, there is a possibility, although chemo can cause other obstacles that might require medicine to conceive.” I figured.
“And if I have to have surgery?”
“In that case the ovary might have to be removed and with one left, it could be even harder and fertility drugs might not help. Essentially, your body would be operating at half of its reproductive self.” I am staring at this glass reward she has on her desk, listening to her tell me my chances of being a mom, of making Declan a dad and having the family we imagined are dwindling, and all I want to do is that this trophy off her desk and throw it across the room. “August, dear, did you hear me?” Yes. I heard it.
Depleted both physically and emotionally, I am so happy when I realize this is Declan’s later day, and I will be able to be alone with my thoughts. I walk in and sigh when all the lights are off, but when I look down and see his work boots, my heart sinks. I turn on the light and prepare myself.
“Where have you been?” he asks before saying hello or anything else. “I have been calling you.” Crap, I forgot I never took my phone off do not disturb.
“I was out,” I tell him. I don't know why I say it like I am annoyed he is asking me, but I am so angry nowadays, and it seems I am right now.
“So you couldn’t answer your phone?”
“I forgot to charge it last night. It probably died.”
“Bullshit, August. I plugged your phone in myself last night.” Crap. Instead of telling him that I put it on do not disturb because I needed peace and quiet, I stoked the fire.