That day – the day before the memorial day weekend Dr. Ellis said, “With treatment maybe two years.
Without two months at best.”
Her plan was to admit him that day. Paul was stunned; I was beyond stunned. “I need time to think,” he said.
Dr. Ellis down this road so many times before said, “Fair
enough. I’ll arrange for your admission
the day after Memorial day. If you
decide to keep the appointment, be here. If you decide not call and cancel.”
Simple enough! Simple?
That drive home from Wake Forest (the first of many as it
turned out) seemed an eternity. Two days ago we were reveling in the delights
of retirement; today we were facing its end.
Safely if not joyfully we returned to our thirty four acres.
Thirty four acres bought twenty-five
years ago with dreams of growing grapes, making wine and growing old with the best
of what life and nature had ro offer . Grapes which chose not to grow mattered
little. The beauty of our place made any
other place on the planet seem secondary.
Home again with a death sentence hanging over our heads we
cried. We laughed at the vagaries of nature. We pondered our choices. “I’m not
ready to die,” he said.
The day after the memorial weekend together we drove to Wake
Forest. The next day I drove home alone leaving him for the
beginning of an eight week intensive chemo treatment.
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