We were at the bottom of the driveway of my mother’s house. The words spewing out of David’s mouth felt like knives to my heart.
“Why are you talking to me like this? What is wrong? “
He sneered, gesturing obscenely with one hand and holding up what he held in the other. It looked like a large cigarette or cigar, and I suddenly knew that whatever was in that ‘stogie’ was drugs, and it had to be the drugs talking. He turned away to return to the house. I couldn’t believe it. “You aren’t going to smoke that in front of Emily and Katie, are you?” I was horrified. He just shrugged his shoulders, and the shrug spoke volumes; I knew in my heart he didn’t care.
“Please. Don’t act like this. I love you. Stay with me,” I pleaded, but he took another puff from the cigarette before walking away.
My heart hurt, and I couldn’t breath. How could David have talked to me that way?
I looked down at the blanket-covered child I held, and I knew I must save it from whatever was going on in that house. I held the blanketed child tight against my chest as I stumbled down the grassy hill. And then I ran… as fast as I could,with tears blinding me.
And then I woke up, my heart pounding against my chest.
That was a strange dream, I thought. I’d never had a nightmare about David, and every other dream he’d been in had comforted me. This one was horrible. I shuddered.
As I descended the stairs, it hit me. Today was March 15th. A year ago on March 15th David ended up in the emergency room with a heart attack. A year ago, I was losing my husband, but neither one of us knew it. He survived that heart attack, only to have his heart stop sometime during the night on March 27th.
Today was also the day that my seven-year-old grandson would have the CT scan that would reveal whether the clinical trial drug he is on was having any effect on the cancer in his lungs.
That test revealed that two areas of the cancer have not grown. No new areas have appeared. However, one area has grown by 50%, and that means Jacob is no longer eligible for this clinical trial study.
How I wish I could wrap that little boy in a blanket and keep him safe from this awful thing called cancer.
And run…just run…