I didn’t have to wait long. I awoke to the smell of burning tobacco and the
sounds of Barbara’s lungs trying to jump-start them selves. “I just need a
couple more before I can get to the store”, she said.
I kissed her goodbye and left for work. Barbara had been retired for the
last two years. The drive to work was sad in deed. I lit up like I always
did in the morning and rolled down the window to let out the smoke.
I had been at my desk for three hours when the hospital called. The nurse
told me to keep calm but, Barbara had called 911 and an ambulance had
brought her to the emergency room. The nurse told me that she had gone in
to shock but that she was doing better and I could take her home.
A foreign doctor with a name I can’t pronounce but sounds like Banchoo
asked me if I was a relative. He stumbled a little when I told him that
Barbara was my wife. He recovered quickly and explained to me that
Barbara’s shock was the result of withdrawal from nicotine. He told me that
Barbara had admitted to a pack a day habit and asked me if she was telling
the truth. I shook my head and told him that the beautiful woman on the bed
was a five pack a day lady. “For how long?” he asked. “Forever”, I said.
I asked Dr. Banchoo if I could see her. He told me I could, but first he
wanted to show me her chest x-rays. I followed him behind the nurse’s
station. News of the younger husband had gotten around the floor and the
nurses, especially the older ones, looked at me curiously.
He asked me to look at the film as he placed his index finger on a
sprawling white mass on what he told me was her left lung. I had never seen
an x-ray of someone’s chest, so I didn’t know what to expect. I had to
depend on the doctor to tell me what it meant.
“It means that she has cancer and that she doesn’t have long to live”, he
said.
“Isn’t there any thing you can do?” I asked.
“Not at this point.” He said. “Maybe if we had seen her a year ago we could
have operated but at this point we’d just be doing more harm than good.”
I asked Dr. Banchoo if Barbara knew about the cancer. He told me that she
did and that she had asked him to talk to me about it. “She told me that
you’ve been experimenting with cigarettes. Is this true?” he asked. I shook
my head.
“Your wife is very sick,” said the doctor. “And smoking is responsible for
this. She doesn’t want to die in vain. She wants her death to mean
something. In other words, she doesn’t want this to happen to you.” He
paused for a moment and scratched his head. “I told her that she could
continue to smoke.”
“What?” I hoped my excitement wouldn’t penetrate my mask of concern. “She
has lung cancer and you told her to keep smoking?”
Dr. Banchoo rolled his eyes to the back of his head and then fixed them on
me. “Yes, I told her she could keep smoking. Quitting now would only put
her back in the hospital sooner than necessary. I’ve seen this kind of
addiction before. It’s in her best interest to be comfortable. It’s also in
her best interest for you to be understanding and supportive. And for God’s
sake, if you haven’t quit smoking yet, do it now. And if you don’t stop,
then don’t let her see you.”
Barbara was up and dressed, sitting in a chair when I walked in to the
room. She looked at me through tear-stained eyes and told me how sorry she
was. I went to her and took her in my arms. I squeezed tightly on her 63
year old body and imagined my still pink lungs rubbing against her nasty
black ones. I told her that I loved her and we walked through the hospital
toward the parking lot without speaking. I opened her car door and she
climbed in.
“I don’t have any cigarettes”, she said.
“There’s a convenience store down the road”, I said. “I passed it on the
way here.”
“Please hurry,” she said.