Chapter 9
Karrington
My little one and I were at a standstill. At one point, I felt like there was nothing my wife could do to make me angry, but today, Eyela had proven me wrong. A part of me felt horrible for even feeling like that, but that was the truth.
After we first got married, we had a conversation where we discussed her health history.
I knew that she’d dealt with cancer five times, and the fifth time was the worse.
I knew they said she only had six months to live, but clearly, she was still here over a decade later.
I knew her immune system was weak, and her cells were so low they didn’t want to risk surgery and that God had worked a miracle in her life—her body.
I knew she didn’t want to go through chemo again.
Even with me knowing all those things mentally, it was harder to process as we sat in the doctor’s office waiting on the results of her testing.
When she told me she’d never go through chemo again, that shit ate at my heart.
I understood to the best of my ability where she was coming from when she told me that.
From that point on, I prayed every day that the cancer never came back.
And here we were, . . . waiting to see if the cancer had come back.
First, she was more tired than usual. Then, she started coughing and having chest pains. After that, the night sweats started, and it became more and more difficult for her to sleep and rest. Out of nowhere, she started to lose weight. At that point, she knew. And at that point, I was in denial.
Even after a year and a half of marriage, Eyela stared at me with the same shy innocence, the same purity she always had. Her long, thick hair was pulled into a low ponytail, exposing her slimmer face. Tears came to my eyes as I stared at my wife. She’d just said the words I hoped she wouldn’t.
“If the cancer is back, I’m not doing chemo.” I’d stared at her for so long she said, “Did you hear me, Karrington?”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “I heard you. I just don’t understand.”
She looked at the palms of her hands, as if she hoped she’d find her words there.
“I told you how hard on my body chemo was, baby. It was worse than the cancer.”
“I understand, little one, but—”
“That’s just it,” she said, voice slightly raised as she smiled with watery eyes. “You don’t understand. You could never understand unless you’ve been in this position. That shit was horrible, and I’m never going to put myself through that again.”
Seeing as she never cursed, I knew she was serious.
“What about our son? Hmm?” Her head hung, and the thought of my question making her feel guilty made me feel like shit, but I had to ask.
“You aren’t willing to fight for him? For us?
Gio needs you, Eyela. I need you. Are you seriously telling me if it has come back that you won’t fight to stay here with us? ”
Sniffling, she wiped her tears and shook her head. “There’s no reality where I will willingly choose to leave you and our son, Karrington, but I also don’t want to do chemo again.”
“Okay, so we’ll consider other options. There are other options, right? I just . . . I can’t accept you completely giving up, little one. Even if you don’t do chemo, you have to do something.”
“I understand your fear, but it’s my decision, baby.”
“Wow.” Chuckling, I sat back in my seat. “Okay.”
“I’m not trying to make it seem like what you want or how you feel doesn’t matter but—”
“Let’s not, okay?”
Her shoulders slouched as she nodded. Closing my eyes, I tilted my head and rested the back of it against the wall.
I felt powerless. Hopeless. Angry. Selfish.
Guilty. Cruel. I should have supported her decision, but that felt too much like giving up on her—on us.
How would I explain this to our son in the future if she lost this fight? I couldn’t even think about that.
At the sound of the door opening, my eyes popped open.
At the sight of Doctor Williams’s somber expression, I knew what the results were before the words even left her mouth.
The news was choppy as it went in one ear and out of the other.
Lymphoma. Stage one. In her chest. Chemo port.
I jumped up from the seat so hard and fast it tipped over.
Storming out of the room, I could barely contain my anger as I briskly stalked down the hall and out of the clinic.
The second I was outside, I roared and repeatedly punched the brick wall. Not even the sight of my blood on it made me stop. I didn’t stop until tears blurred my eyes. Sobbing, I slid down the wall.
“Fuck!” I yelled. “How could You? I trusted You with her life and You do this? You know she doesn’t want to fight. I know she’s amazing, but You can’t have her. Not yet! We got a son to raise. A life to live.” My yells turned into a whimper when I repeated, “You can’t have her yet.”
I didn’t think anything could top losing my father, .
. . the man who taught me everything I knew.
The man we named our son after. But this?
Just the thought of losing my wife . . .
the shit made me literally sick to my stomach.
Standing, I jogged over to the black garbage can and emptied the contents of my stomach until nothing else came out.
I stood upright and wiped my mouth before going to the car.
After rinsing my mouth out with water, I tossed two mints inside and drove to the Walgreens that was on the corner to get a toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouthwash.
By the time I was done brushing my teeth and had driven back to the clinic, I figured Eyela would be done with her appointment.
As soon as I saw her standing at the check-out counter, more guilt consumed me.
I hated leaving her, but I had to get that shit out of me.
The only way I’d be able to hold space for her emotions was to empty myself of mine.
Wrapping my arm around her, I kissed the top of her head. She tensed slightly before relaxing against me. Once she was done handling her business, I led her outside to the car. I waited until we were inside to say, “I’m sorry for leaving. I needed a moment, but I should have been there with you.”
“It’s okay,” she mumbled, looking out of the window. “I know this is hard for you.”
“Yeah, but it’s harder for you.” Taking her hand into mine, I caressed it with my thumb, coaxing her gently to look at me.
When she looked at me, she noticed my bruised hand.
Her eyes widened and mouth dropped, but I spoke before she could question me about it.
“I respect that it’s your decision, and I will stand by you, no matter what you decide. ”
“You promise?” she asked sweetly.
“I promise.”
“Even if I don’t want chemo, radiation, or surgery?”
“I promise,” I repeated. “We will fight this together, however you decide. And if you don’t want to fight at all . . .” I couldn’t say the words. My throat clogged. I swallowed and hoped that would clear it, but it didn’t work. “We’ll just make the most out of the time we have.”
Her tears fell quickly as she released a shaky breath.
“It is my life and my choice, but I’m sharing my life with you.
You’re my partner, and I have to consider you just as you consider me.
” She released a long breath, and I held on to the silence with bated breath.
“I agreed to six months of chemo, Karrington, but that’s it.
If that doesn’t shrink the cancer, I won’t put myself through any more than that. ”
It felt like literal weights were lifted from my shoulders when she said that.
My tears fell immediately as I pulled her into my arms. Eyes squeezed tightly, I thanked God and apologized for the way I’d spoken to Him as I held her tightly.
He knew how I felt even without me having to say the shit, but I could have packaged it a little better.
Gripping her cheeks, I kissed her lips and thanked her for fighting for her life.
For our life.
For our son.