Missed Connections Pt 01

Life with cancer is hard. Life after cancer isn't much easier, for those fortunate to recover.

No one wants to help their partner survive a major illness, only to lose them metaphorically in the aftermath. So what happens when a consequence of survival involves a permanent change or outright loss of sexual function?

The motivation for this fictional story is to highlight the real quality of life and relationship challenges suffered by survivors of sexually sensitive cancers, and their healthy spouses. I don't want to be the author who condones infidelity as the obvious solution - typically, it's not; but draw attention to the fact that most often, there really aren't any good solutions, period. Some couples are determined to stay together and make it work, despite the difficult changes required. Others can't or won't change, and the relationship dissolves permanently.

So in our story, two survivor spouses meet by random chance while enduring very different responses from their primary partners with respect to their efforts to restore physical intimacy. Expect strong BTB and ENM complications throughout the series. This is a 3 part story, fully written and edited, to be posted in orderly succession.

The "Missed Connections" title and storyline is inspired by my unique appreciation and respect for all the real world survivor couples who find themselves frustrated with intimacy difficulties after treatment. Thanks for reading.

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Eero Saarinen was a 20th Century design genius.

He passed away at the seemingly young age of 51, arguably at the peak of his career. Eero didn't live to see the official opening day for one of his most inspired designs, the Washington Dulles International Airport. Maybe that was for the best, given how it ultimately turned out? The sweeping design of the main terminal, with no internal columns was made to resemble an airplane wing. It's still iconic 60 years later. Unfortunately, the inspired design became functionally obsolete quickly. Saarinen envisioned a 1950's vision of air travel, confined to the elite and exclusive of society. Originally, travelers would board unique "Mobile Lounges" to be social, enjoy a cocktail, and then be effortlessly whisked away to their waiting aircraft. He never envisioned the mass market, common person vision of air travel and the hordes of passengers it would provide - rendering his original design concept almost immediately obsolete.

By the 1980's, despite the airport being only 20 years old, a major reimagination would be required to make the airfield live up to Saarinen's original vision as a premier international gateway for the national capital. The response was classic Washington D.C. bureaucracy that would have the late Saarinen turning in his grave. A giant new midfield terminal was constructed, under the auspices of being "temporary" - underwriting the obvious design and materials shortcomings in stark contrast with the sweeping ambitions of the original main terminal. In D.C. speak, temporary is apparently a euphemism for "maybe just for the next 40 years", as the midfield terminal remains in operation today largely as it was when the doors first opened in 1985. Saarinen's original "mobile lounge" concept from 1960 is now repurposed as lumbering tarmac shuttles moving rollaboard luggage toting passengers inefficiently through to the "D" side gates, and if one is so fortunate to have a flight departing from the "C" side, they get to take an underground train from the main terminal. Once you eventually get there, plan on standing - there isn't space for enough seats to accommodate the large narrowbody and widebody aircraft that serve the market. But don't worry, you'll still have plenty of time to sit around - once on board the plane.

So all this might help explain my rotten mood when I eventually reach my departure gate, one Sunday in October for a business trip to Denver. A conference starting far too early on a Monday morning, necessitating the Sunday travel and abbreviation of my weekend. Despite the crowd surrounding the gate area, the ding of my mobile app alerted me to a flight delay. It was difficult to hear the gate agent over the noise in the terminal, but I ultimately caught the following message:

"Attention passengers on flight 1769 to Denver. Our inbound aircraft was grounded due to a mechanical problem. But, good news - we've found a replacement aircraft so the delay will be limited to about 90 minutes. The new plane is a different configuration, but will still be able to accommodate all of the ticketed and confirmed passengers. Please refresh your mobile app for your new seat assignment, or see the gate agent for an updated boarding pass."

I flash my mobile app to check my seat assignment - 16D. My usual aisle seat preference. I refreshed my app, knowing that not all planes even have a row 16 due to the variety of aircraft types and peculiarities of this airline's reservation system. Unsurprisingly, my seat assignment did change - to row 12, seat E. The "E" now representing the bain of any self respecting single business traveler - the dreaded middle seat. This trip was getting off to a rough start. I decided to hit the bathroom (another half hour wait) in hopes I could avoid getting up or at least not more than once during the near 4 hour flight. Once I returned, boarding was finally underway.

I made my way down the jetbridge, onto the aircraft. My eyes were focused on the overhead bin space and the seat rows. I barely had my luggage stowed before I turned into row 12 only to recognize a very nervous and anxious looking woman occupying the window seat next to me. I also couldn't avoid recognizing my seat mate to be about my age (mid 40's), attractive, and physically well put together. As much as I was finally lamenting a turn of better luck to take the edge off the dreaded middle seat, a "passenger of size" approached to squeeze themself into the aisle seat to the left of me.

Reflexively, I couldn't help but find myself leaning into the limited personal space of the attractive woman sitting to my right. She looked over and gave me a bit of a stink eye, and once we had established eye contact I non verbally shifted my eyes in the direction of the aisle seat. A wry smile crept across her face and she mouthed "sorry" with a little fold in her lips as the smile extended to her eyes. I cautiously extended my hand to shake hers.

"Hi - my name is Kyle"

"Sarah Hamilton. Nice to meet you, Kyle"

The pilot came on to interrupt my attempt at small talk with the following announcement.

"Afternoon from the flight deck, apologies for the delayed start but as you heard, we had an issue with the inbound aircraft scheduled to operate this flight. Fortunately we were able to find a replacement plane, and we are going to do our best to get you to Denver as quickly and as safely as possible. We know several of you are connecting today, so be advised the computer is currently showing an arrival time of 8:12 PM local. We'll update you on any changes to our arrival time, gate and weather as we get closer to Denver. For now, sit back and enjoy the flight."

Sarah had a couple old school, paper boarding passes gripped tightly in her hands. I couldn't help but follow along as she reoriented the top boarding pass IAD-DEN to the one underneath labeled DEN-SLC. As if we were somehow in sync with the pilot's message, our eyes locked on the same thing about the same time - her connecting flight boarding at 7:30PM.

"Tight connection Sarah?" I could tell she was anxious, and thought this to be a gateway to an easy and potentially helpful conversation.

"I think our delay is going to screw this up big time. The pilot just projected a landing at 8:12, and my flight to Salt Lake is set to take off at 8:05."

"It's close. I wouldn't give up hope entirely. We can sometimes make up time in the air. And, if there are other passengers on this flight heading to Salt Lake, there is the possibility they could even hold the flight for you."

Sarah didn't seem too reassured by my optimism over her connection. She continued to grip the flimsy paper boarding pass in her hands as if life depended on it. Enough that the veins seemed to protrude outward from the back of her hands, extending up into her nicely toned and tanned arms. I surreptitiously eyed the simple gold wedding band on her left hand, elegantly conservative and understated given her otherwise attractive appearance.

"You know, Sarah, if you are worried about a misconnection, I can check my mobile app to see if there are later flights. It may make sense to rebook in advance to make sure you get where you are heading tonight."

"You think there is another flight to Salt Lake?" Sarah locked eyes with me, expectantly.

I checked the mobile app and found another DEN-SLC flight with a 10:30 departure. You can never really tell for sure on capacity, but the airline still showed economy availability and there were 4 unassigned seats on the seat map.

"It looks like there is a 10:30 flight, but only maybe 4 seats available. It might make sense to go ahead and rebook, just to get yourself a confirmed seat and avoid the possibility of having to spend the night in Denver."

"I want to do that then. How do I make this change?"

"Flight attendants, please take your jump seats for departure." The pilot's announcement crackles across the intercom signaling an imminent takeoff.

"Do you have the airline mobile app on your phone?"

"Yes. I just have the paper boarding pass from the gate agent when they reassigned seats. Although, mine didn't actually change. All of this is so stressful, ugh."

"Let's connect to the in flight wi-fi after takeoff, and we can probably rebook through the mobile app then. I will help you."

10 minutes later we were in the air, the chime signaling we had both eclipsed 10,000 feet and the in flight wi-fi would be activated. I asked Sarah if she knew how to connect to the wi-fi. She didn't. Seemingly, a novice traveler, I thought. I asked her to hand me her phone. She gave me a questioning look, as if she didn't entirely trust handing her phone to someone she just met.

"Come on Sarah, you can't trust a middle aged man wearing a hot pink polo shirt?" My obvious confidence with all of this was now coming through.

Sarah blushed as she handed over the device. "I had been meaning to ask you about the shirt next."

"It's October. I am wearing the pink shirt for cancer awareness, specifically, breast cancer. My wife Amy is a two time survivor. In fact, you look pretty close to her age, hopefully you are up to date on your screenings. Amy says they saved her life twice. Not everyone in her position is as lucky."

Sarah for a second looked bemused, and opened her mouth but no sound came out. Eventually she strained to get out her response.

"I...ugh. I am fully up to date actually. But, for the record, I definitely agree with Amy."

I've long ago recognized the sensitivity of these topics. I wear the shirt not so much for awareness, but to please my wife - one of the few things in life I can still do that actually pleases her. Usually I have the presence of mind to avoid the topic in polite conversation, but for whatever reason I was feeling more confident with Sarah. Her halting response reminded me once again why some things are better kept to themselves.

I managed to connect Sarah's phone to the wi-fi, and navigated to the airline app. I decided to walk her through the process, showing her the "rebooking options" icon that appeared automatically after the lengthy delay, and confirming her reservation for the 10:30 SLC flight. She immediately relaxed upon seeing she had 2 additional hours in DEN to make her connection, with a new confirmed seat assignment.

"Thanks Kyle. I never would have known you could even do this from the air. You might have saved me from spending the night in the airline terminal, and being late to my training tomorrow."

"Happy to help. See, next time you meet a guy in a pink shirt..."

Our conversation drifted off, but thanks to the hefty passenger to my left I remained more or less encroached in Sarah's personal space. She seemed restless, raising and lowering the window shade, picking up the inflight magazine only to discard it three minutes later. After a while, she turned and made eye contact with me, a uniquely serious look on her face.

"You mentioned Amy is a breast cancer survivor. How is she doing?"

"About as well as could reasonably be expected under the circumstances. It's tough, her outcome isn't really what either of us hoped for, but it's so much better than what's experienced by the least fortunate victims. It's been a huge life adjustment for her, actually for both of us."

I am giving the polite answer, and not the one I want to share. Amy's been through treatment twice, and for a variety of reasons is at risk for another recurrence. Despite this, Amy is proud to be what her doctor refers to as his "Model Patient" - no, he's not referring to her attractiveness (and she still very much is, her breast reconstruction looks incredible) but her adherence to a difficult therapy. One that entirely suppresses her natural sex hormones in an effort to prevent them from fueling any resurgence in cancer growth.

To suggest this hasn't had an impact on our marriage, especially in combination with all her other treatments would be a total lie. We are struggling together as a couple, seemingly in silence, as there are no alternatives to this treatment and any discontinuation carries potential consequences of life or death. No one wants to be in a position to choose their marriage or their life. I guess all of this was somehow written on my face, because I didn't see the question coming that Sarah asked next.

"Right. I guess I can understand Kyle but maybe the question behind the question is what I'm after. How are YOU feeling about all of this?"

Now that isn't a question I am used to receiving in this situation. Especially coming from a woman, someone I acknowledge I find attractive and now...that same attractive woman asking provocative questions. It was almost as if she was coming at this with a kind of sixth sense ordinary people wouldn't have in this conversation. I mean, most ordinary people would refuse to even follow this conversation. I guess I let my guard down in response.

"It's an impossibly difficult position to be in. I mean, if the shoe was on the other foot I would hope Amy would do anything for me to support my recovery. And, I feel a clear sense of obligation to do the same for her. But admittedly, our relationship hasn't and probably won't ever be the same because of it."

I probably shouldn't have exposed my true feelings this way, to a near stranger on an airplane. But, it's hard to describe the defeated look in Sarah's eyes after receiving my answer. A combination of sadness, empathy and quiet understanding. I was waiting for her to say something, anything. Silently, she reached over and squeezed my leg just above the knee, then turned to close the window shade, and closed her eyes as if to try and fall asleep.

Suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed, I decided to close my eyes too. Minutes later, I was asleep. Dreaming. Thinking about my most recent intimate encounter earlier that morning with Amy. I had awoken before her, that's typical for the weekend. Knowing I was going to be out of town for almost the entire week, I decided to try and initiate sex one final time before leaving. Amy's surgically reconstructed breasts unnaturally prop up the sheets as she lay sleeping on her back. I started to massage those, somewhat out of old habits but also foolishly, as she can't feel anything there after surgery. Eventually, given no response I moved lower, across her toned stomach and hips, and eventually worked a finger into her vagina. She used to respond predictably in these situations, but not anymore. The loss of hormones has claimed more than just her drive, her body just doesn't respond to physical stimulation the way it used to. She finally cracked open one eye, let out a sigh and then rolled both of her eyes dismissively at me.

"I guess this morning can be for you." Foreshadowing her intentions to not participate. Amy reached down to remove her panties. I rolled over to find the lube, absent of which, I would have no chance at full penetration without severely hurting her. Whatever you call it, mercy sex, sex out of obligation...it isn't love. It's completely emotionless now.

I've learned to move quickly in this situation before her mood changes for the worse. After 5 minutes, I am building to my climax, unremarkable as it will be. Amy reaches to pull my ass tighter as I see her eyes close and face grimace in obvious discomfort.

"Come for me Kyle"

I shudder at the core memory unlocked. In happier times, Amy used to pull me in when she was close and seductively whisper "Cum in me Kyle". Usually, my release would trigger hers. Now it's not about cumming in her, it's coming for her. As in, hurry up and get it over with - I need this to be ending now.

I awaken abruptly from my dream, having missed my climax and startled by a pocket of air turbulence. Sarah is awake too, she's back to the distressed look on her face I remember from earlier. I am not usually a nervous flier, but the scene is a bit chaotic. The sun is still shining, but it's dark outside. The wing of the plane has dipped twice to the right side, pushing me even further into Sarah's space, and we are experiencing clear altitude changes up and down. As a frequent flier, I recognize the atmospheric convection and figure we'll fly through it pretty quickly. Sarah does not seem as assured.

"We'll be out of this in another minute or two. The pilots go out of their way to avoid these kinds of storms. Sometimes, the best thing is to just get through quickly. It isn't going to damage the plane, nor any of the passengers as long as they stay in their seats."

Sarah reached over and gripped my right hand with her left. I have to admit, her touch was electric. Feeling Sarah grip my hand with purpose, combined with the intensity in her eyes could have me cum in my shorts - especially after the erotic dream moments before. As predicted, another few minutes pass and the turbulence is over. Sarah silently released my hand and again began staring out the window. Moments later, the pilot announces our descent into Denver.

After landing, I decided to make a play. There was something mysterious about Sarah and I wanted some bonus time to try and figure it out.

"You've got a couple hours to pass before boarding your connection. Any interest in continuing our earlier conversation in the terminal over a glass of wine? My treat."

Sarah seemed a little surprised by my advance, then relented she didn't have anything better to do. We collected our carry ons, and wandered inside to find a place in the terminal close to the gate for her SLC flight. One glass of wine turned into two. Sarah was relaxed now, and more in her natural element. I decided to ask about her husband.

"Have you ever seen the movie, The Graduate? That could describe Geoff and I. We met in college, he was the professor and I was the student. He's still the professor there today, lol. Eventually, our relationship became permanent and we ended up getting married a couple years after I graduated. That was almost 20 years ago."

"So, I suppose there is a bit of an...age gap in your relationship?"

Sarah blushed. "Geoff is going to turn 60 later this year. I am 45. Our age difference was never an issue. Well, at least not until recently." Suddenly, the smile had passed from her face.

"Sarah, when you asked me on the plane how I was handling Amy's illness...there was something more to that. A look that said so much more than your silent response implied."