Hotel California

- “Brace yourself for what I have to tell you Larry. I’m sorry to tell you this, but the tests results leave no doubt. You have at the most six months to live. With aggressive chemotherapy, we may prolong your life span for an extended six months, but it’s too risky to operate, and the chemotherapy does not guarantee it will arrest the cancer.”

Larry felt a wave of cold dread wash over him. The moment seemed surreal, as if he was simply a spectator in an interactive macabre play. An involuntary sob wanted to escape from his constricted throat. A wail of undiluted rage wanted to manifest itself as well; this was simply not in his agenda. Of course, everyone knows one day we have to check out of here, but who bothers to think about it with such a full schedule? There is always tomorrow…

He shuffled out of the doctor’s office, pensive and visibly shaken to the core.

“What now?” he asked himself.

It seemed ironic now, that he once a buddy asked him, that if he was told he only had a few months to live, would he fight it to the end, or simply live it up for what it was worth. He said he would not fight it. Now, when the hypothesis was a hard cold reality, Larry’s courage seemed to falter. He wanted to live! Dammit!

When he stepped outside the building, he sat on the bus bench in front of it. He needed to gather his wits about him and think this through carefully. This was not fair! He imagined his carcass detaching itself from his skeletal frame in chunks, as his solid form morphed into a pool of putrefied fat. That was to become of him without ever have known true enduring love. He felt cheated that he had not lived his life properly.

An elderly lady sat next to him on the bus stop bench. She was pulling a two-wheel cart with some groceries in it. She smiled at Larry, but he did not return the smile. He was angry that this decrepit old woman with a turkey’s neck was still around taking up space on the bench, while he was half her age and with an imminent expiration date.

Larry wanted to cry, he was scared of the unknown, of the insidious and eventually painful daily deterioration of his body…this steady as the dripping of a leaky faucet. Yet, in truth, he lacked the willingness to fight it. What was life about anyway? His life thus far had been a monotonous routine. The joie de vivre had been long sucked out of the marrow of his bones and forgotten, probably since his high school years.

He reflected as one bus picked up the old woman, that he had not really truly lived his life well. He was a confirmed bachelor simply because he had been hurt once - very badly, and this had made him too picky of potential mates. Could he be blamed though? One date with a woman who looked like a seal, not kidding. With close set eyes, and a mustache which curiously made her resembled a seal - a cute one surely - but seriously! This encounter had left him wondering if he would ever find love.

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It had been so long since he’d been with a woman…way too long. This thought galvanized Larry into action. He walked to his car and drove to his favorite restaurant. He mused while driving there that he had spent one too many hours simply thinking about doing things, yet not taking the action needed to make those ideas realities.

How many hours had he spent of his life watching rented DVD’s, or simply surfing the remote control of the television? No time for that now he told himself. Time to take action and make the best of the time left!

With this conviction and new found valor, he sat at Melanie’s station and ordered a sumptuous meal. What the heck…not like he needed to watch his health now. As he cut into his medium rare steak and fries, Melanie asked him if he needed anything else.
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Larry put down his utensils and in a bold move, summarized his dilemma. He told her he had only six months to live, he had not been intimate with a woman in a year, and he wanted to ask her out. This was delivered in a rushed, monotonous tone.

..To be continued…