February 2012: I sit in my chair watching a blank television screen while sipping on a Captain Morgan and Pepsi. The first three, I slammed. I just returned from the Vet after putting to sleep our seventeen year old Shetland Sheepdog. How do you gage if a year is going to be good or not? Every year since I was a child, I sang that stupid song on New Year's. You know the one. The one you sing then kiss everybody and wish them a happy and prosperous New Year. Bah humbug. In a few minutes, I will get up and refill my drink before I sit in front of a blank computer screen and start typing a story for all to read. The house is quiet. So quiet I bet you could hear a pin drop. If I had one, I would test the theory. Funny thing though, last year at this time, it was quiet in more of a hushed tone. Relatives and close friends were here. Corinne was upstairs sleeping. Kayla and Katrina were putting out food for all who was here. Ken and Dan were mingling in the crowd. Bridgette and I sat on the couch holding hands. We just buried our mother. How much can change in a year? Well let me tell you. Keep up with me now.
February 2011: Everyone here is munching on some kind of snack, or drinking some kind of drink. Well almost everyone. I'm not, nor is Corinne. In fact, Corinne hasn't been out of the bedroom since Kayla brought her home from her chemotherapy appointment four days ago. Tomorrow she will start to feel better, the next day she will get out of bed and do some work from home, the next day she will be fine, then the next day she will go to chemotherapy again, and knock her down for another week. While on vacation in Wisconsin three years ago, she collapsed. At the time I thought it was from heat exhaustion. When doctors told me they were flying her to University Hospital in Madison, I knew it wasn't from the heat. When I finally made it there, the doctors at UW-Hospital told me she had cancer. When I asked what kind they scratched their heads and said it was global. More tests had to be done. While there, Corinne admitted she never went to see a doctor. It will be discovered through many different types of tests Corinne started out with ovarian cancer which spread to her stomach and intestines. Now, cancer has overtaken her body. She has no hair from treatments, and you would swear she snacks on Black Cat firecrackers. They won't take her remaining teeth out, she would bleed to death. So it's better if she looks like a bald witch. On her good days, she will put on a wig to sit out on the deck. She doesn't smile anymore. We were at her chemo appointment four days ago when the assisted living staff called and said my mother died sometime during the night.
My mother fell and broke her hip in August. Or should I say broke her hip and fell. She had hip surgery, and her health steadily declined from there. In November, Bridgette and I decided the assisted living was the best option for her. She lasted six months post-surgery.
Bridgette has offered repeatedly to take care of me since Corinne can't. I have mostly used her for help and support. At my age, and going through all this, sex is really the furthest thing from your mind. It's no longer important. I don't know what I'd do without her today. We have become best friends.
Kayla is still the secretary at the parochial school; got a degree in school administration; and her two sons Trevor and Trenton are in the fourth and first grade at the school she works at. Trent is making a get well soon card to his great-grandma. Trev is outside doing something.
Dan has gone on two deployments to Afghanistan, and two to Iraq. He hasn't made major yet, and is seemingly stuck at captain. When he is home, he works as a security guard for a hospital. Within two months, he will be called up again.
Ken is currently a Lieutenant in the United States Navy, assigned to a ship in the Mayport basin as the Chief Engineer. He married his longtime girlfriend Stephanie four years ago, and they have a daughter who is two, and currently needing a nap.
Katrina got her Juris Doctorate in law, and was the assistant to the assistant district attorney for a year before she took her brains and degree for a corporate attorney position in Miami. Last year she made close to a quarter-million dollars. She lives with her life partner Meredith who she met in college. It took Corinne whapping me upside the head (literally) at Christmas five years ago after I said something stupid, for me to realize Katrina was a lesbian. I never would have guessed it otherwise. I just thought they were good friends living together in a studio apartment. Meredith specializes in civil law and is a strong supporter of same sex marriages. Both are pretty, but I could be biased toward Katrina. I think the term is lipstick lesbian. Neither of them looks nor dresses masculine.
In mid-March, I will take Corinne to her chemotherapy appointment. She had two good days this week, and up until fifteen minutes ago, it was going on number three...in a row too yet. She was chipper this morning and we enjoyed coffee together. Well, she drank water, but she made the coffee. She was even a little frisky, something I haven't seen in her in almost three years now. The closer we got to the clinic, the more subdued she became. By the time I pulled into the parking lot, her hands were folded in her lap, her head was hanging down, and a tear streaming down her cheek. I parked the car, turned it off and cupped my hand under her chin turning her head to look at me. I forced a smile at her.
"You ready?" I asked. Her seemingly hollow eye sockets stared me back, her sunken cheeks trembling. The eyes which always made me lost in them while they smiled and danced at me were gone. She forced a smile back and nodded her head. "I love you Cory." Her small smile wasn't forced this time. I got out of the car and walked around the back of it to her door. I opened it and gave her my hand to help her out. She sat with her head down, hands folded in her lap yet. "Cory?" I knelt down by her door and put my hand on her bony shoulder. "You ready?"
"No Brad." She said in a frail voice. "Please don't make me go in there."
"But..." I didn't want to argue with her, but I didn't know what to do. "...you have to."
"Please Brad." She turned her head. "I don't want to. I can't anymore."
"Cory...what are you saying?" I didn't understand.
"Please take me home Brad. Please." Her sobs went through her whole body. "I don't want to be sick for days anymore Brad. Please just take me home."
"I'll do anything for you Cory." I said to her. "If that's what you really want, then I'll do it."
