Hospital Scene

That doctor obviously didn’t know about our plan.

Someone get her back in here and tell her our plan.

Where did she go now? Could we stop her? Take back Bob’s chart. Just forget the whole thing.

Bob and I sat on that hospital bed surrounded by blood pressure cuffs and IV poles. There were sounds of people scurrying about just outside the door. At any minute one of those scurrying people could barge in unannounced and poke or prod Bob with something. Tell us something else we didn’t want to hear.

We sat there like that for a time, like kids who had been scolded and handed a punishment that is way too harsh for the infraction. Our legs dangled off the sides of the hospital bed. I absently kicked at the mud and dead grass stuck on my shoes from our excursion to the park earlier, Bob was back in his hospital slippers.

“So, we are hoping for lymphoma?” I eventually asked Bob.

I had come to the conclusion that lymphoma was the least offensive option for us.

“Well, we’re hoping it’s benign,” Bob said thoughtfully.

I inhaled quickly, trying to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest. It was currently somewhere in the region of my throat.

That was the beginning of our two different journeys.