337 days

by Denise Kim Wy

  337 days

  Denise Kim Wy

  Published: 2010

  Tag(s): love death cancer hope romance college fate miracle

  This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 171 Second Street, Suite 300, San Francisco, California, 94105, USA.

  Chapter 1

  337 Days

  About the author

  Denise Kim Wy is a freelance Industrial designer and graphic artist. You can visit her website at:http://www.denisewy.com

  337 Days

  Preface

  I don't believe in miracles. Life is full of shit.

  My name is Robson Mansen, my friends call me Rob. My dream was to become a successful writer. I have everything you want in life. I've got the looks, money, good friends, and a happy family. But you know what. Life is trash, full of evil and illogical twist of fate. Who are we anyway to enjoy life? We're nothing but a tiny spec in this vast universe. But things change, things happen. I thought I was somehow given a second life to live my life with someone I truly love. I hoped for it, prayed for it and held onto it.

  Things were going perfect but then again, things happen and maybe I hoped to much…

  Chapter 1: New leaf

  I never thought that life can be so miserable. Well maybe that's just necessary to keep the universal balance in motion. You know, there is a time for joy and a time for tears. I thought I had everything, that I am strong enough to conquer anything that blocks my path to success. Have I done something wrong? What did I do? What did I didn't do? These were my thoughts when I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder and realized that I was day dreaming again.

  "The car is ready sir." I heard Arthur say.

  I turned around and saw him trying to avoid my eyes.

  "Were you crying Arthur?"

  "No sir."

  "Oh come on!" I put my right arm on his shoulder and let him guide me through where the car was waiting.

  "Well, tell me something Arthur. Have I ever done something to you?"

  Arthur quickly answered, "Nothing sir."

  "What I meant was, have I ever ill treated you before?"

  "Never sir."

  "You were crying. Your voice can't deny it."

  We reached the car and Arthur was about to open the back passenger door when I told him that I'll sit in front with him.

  We were driving down the 7th lane when my head started to hurt. Arthur noticed my discomfort and was about to stop the car.

  "Just go on Arthur."

  "But sir… "

  “Its okay" I tried my best to talk straight.

  "Arthur, remember your promise."

  Arthur said nothing. I went on, “Just don't tell them okay? Don't worry about me."

  "But sir, my conscience tells me otherwise."

  "Don't worry; I won't visit you when I'm gone." I managed to laugh.

  Arthur didn't even reply nor look at me. I went on. "You know Arthur is a good name. Even better than my name. Robson."

  Silence.

  "Maybe if I had a son I’ll name him after you."

  "I don't deserve that honor sir."

  "Then don't think of it as an honor!"

  Arthur faintly smile. I took the bottle of pills from the glove compartment and dry swallowed two. I closed my eyes and let the car's gentle hum lullaby me to sleep.

  ***

  The scene was still crystal clear in my mind. I was face to face with Dr.Hudson. Behind him was a wall plagued with diplomas and certificates. His face was gloomy as usual but it was quite different that time. My hands were cold inside my pocket. I braced myself and asked him the question I've been dying to have an answer.

  "Am I Sick?"

  He took out a paper from his desk drawer and looked at it without answering me. His bald head was wet with perspiration. His gray eyes won't leave the paper he was holding.

  I asked again. Louder this time.

  "Am I sick?"

  Dr. Hudson regarded me warily. He took off his glasses and said, "You have Astrocytoma. And I'm sorry to say that it's already in stage four."

  I swear I know what that meant but my mind won't process it just yet. "I don't speak geek doc."

  He looked at me without humor. I tried another approach. "Please say it in layman's term."

  He handed me the paper and sank into his chair. “You’ve got a brain tumor and it's malignant."

  I looked at the paper I was holding without really looking at it. What I saw was myself receiving a New York's bestselling label for my first novel. I can see myself writing more stories. I can see myself with my family, my friends.

  Dr. Hudson purposely cleared his throat and I was instantly propelled back in reality.

  "There were the symptoms like headache, vomiting, lethargy, drowsiness, and the seizure. I was quite surprised you didn't have it checked immediately."

  My mind was still not functioning properly. But one question was resounding in me. I managed to ask it.

  "How long doc?"

  "Excuse me?"

  My throat felt dry. "How long am I going to live?"

  "With an operation and chemotherapy you'll have twelve to twenty months… "

  "That short?" My hands started to tremble.

  He said nothing. My mind was computing, twelve to twenty months. Three hundred sixty five to six hundred twenty seven days. Was this a joke? What should I do now? Call my friends and spread the word that I'm dying? Beg the doctor to prolong my life? This only happen in TV shows. I'm just a twenty five year old guy dreaming of becoming a writer. Was that too much to ask for?

  I stood up. So this was how it feels like when your life has already a marked decline. It was unfair. Why me? Why now? I was about to open the door when the whole room started spinning and darkness overcome my consciousness.

  I opened my eyes. The sea was calm. The weather was good. Arthur left the engine running. I got out of the car and saw him walking toward me holding a can of ice coffee.

  Arthur, our oldest and trusted butler. He looked older than his age. His gray temples, high forehead, dark eyes, and excessively pale skin suggest that he came from an aristocratic family. But he claims that his dislike of the outdoors was what made him lock himself indoors thus attaining his vampire like complexion.

  "What's the matter sir?" Arthur asked as he handed me the can of ice coffee.

  "I was just wondering how you managed to survive living with us all these years. Don't get me wrong but you could have had a family of your own"

  "I consider myself as part of the Mansen family sir."

  "Yeah. You've done us a great service." I opened the can and drank its content.

  "Is the yacht ready?" I asked him as I handed him back the can.

  "Yes and your luggage were already loaded in there."

  I looked at the yacht, then to the sea. That's when I realized that this might be the last time I’ll be standing here to admire the great view I am seeing right now. I suddenly remembered my childhood. Building sand castles right where I'm standing right now while mom and dad walked by the shore hand in hand enjoying each other's company.

  I sighed. Too much memories.

  Arthur cleared his throat beside me, "You know sir, this is really not necessary."

  I cocked an eyebrow, trying to hide the emotional pain I’m struggling with. This place holds the best memories I ever had. "You mean my departure?"

  "Your father and your mother will surely find a way… "

  "It has no cure Arthur. And I don't believe in miracles."

  "I do sir." He turned to face me, his dark eyes staring boring down into mine. “I’ve seen it happen a lot of times.”r />
  I slowly hook my head. Miracles only happen in good people. "Well that is your opinion."

  "What are your plans?"

  "Travel? Write a book? Study? I don't know. I just don't want to confine myself in the hospital or at the manor. I'm so sick of therapies that don't even improve my condition. If I am going to die then why should I spend the remaining days of my life in torture? I deserve to live and enjoy life in a devil-may-care attitude."

  "How about your parents sir?"

  "I am entrusting them to you."

  "I am not young enough to be their son." Arthur said with a smile.

  "I did not tell you to be their son. Unless you wanted to. By the way, when are they coming back?"

  "Eighteenth of September sir."

  "I see."

  I glanced at my watch, it was quarter to twelve.

  "Guess its goodbye?" I am really awkward with goodbyes.

  "I wish not to call it that way sir."

  "Sorry about that."

  Arthur led me to where the yacht was. Before I climbed in, I blinked up the tears forcing its way out of my eyes and hugged him. I whispered the only two words that I can think of.

  "Thank you."

  Arthur’s eyes welled up with tears. "No, it is I who must thank you sir."

  I wanted this farewell to be as short as possible. I released him and tried my very best to conquer my emotions as I tried to untie the rope that secured the yacht on to the dock. I started the engine and the yacht began to move forward.

  I looked back to the shore and waved goodbye to Arthur. He raised his thin arm and waved back.

  As the yacht moved farther away, I can't help but let the tears flow from my eyes. He won't be able to see it anyway.

  The yacht moved farther and farther until I can see him no more. This was it. I'm starting a new life. I will enjoy my remaining days here on earth. Screw chemo and radiation therapy! I will live my life in a carefree manner.

  I took my leather bound notebook from my bag. It's a gift I received from my friend Esor three years ago. I missed him so much. He's the brother I never had. I opened the notebook and took out a pen from my pocket, and I wrote;

  starting anew. July 17 2009. 256th day.

  How many days do I have left?

  Chapter 2: Alone

  I reached the city of Anselm four hours upon my departure from the Mansen Island. You read that right. We own an island.

  We have houses in different places but I prefer not to live in any of them as I want to live by myself. No one knows about my condition except Arthur himself. I let him promise never to tell mom and dad about my sickness. I can already imagine mom's reaction. Dad would try his best to hide his emotions. Guess I took up from him.

  I told Arthur to just cover up for me. Just like the old times.

  The old times… When Arthur covers me whenever I came home late. How fast the time flies. It seems like only days had passed instead of years.

  I reached 43rd triple wood later that afternoon. This was my new home.

  The place was not big as the manor. I'll be living alone with neither servants nor any butlers, no need to get fancy.

  The house has two floors, two baths and a bedroom. The place was fully furnished. I was long ready for this.

  I decided to take a bath first.

  The warm shower instantly relaxed me. I surveyed my body. I lost a lot of weight from during those eight months of therapy. My hair was already thinning but started to regrow a little bit when I stopped chemo and radiation therapy. If I only knew earlier that I would be stopping therapy then I shouldn't have started it.

  After showering I went to the nearest supermarket to buy rations for my empty cabinet and fridge.

  ***

  After a satisfying pasta for dinner, I sat on my study table and examined the bottles of medicine I have.

  There were five of them. I can't believe I’ll be taking up lot of pills in a very young age.

  I hate this life. Just when I was about to enjoy my life then it starts crumbling right in front of me. Who should I blame? My ancestors and their genes?

  I opened my laptop to check my mailbox. I got plenty of new ones. Mostly from mom. I quickly closed the device. I don't want to read any mails from my family or friends. No, not now. I just want to be alone with my thoughts.

  I know mom would be mad after receiving no replies from me. Dad would try to call me then. It made me smile to think of them. They are the best parents ever. They don't deserve a son like me.

  I stared at the window across the study table. I arranged it in that way so that I’ll be able to look outside and get some inspiration from whatever I see.

  What should I do now? I can't live here doing nothing. I took out my notebook; maybe I could write something or start a novel.

  ***

  Writer's block. I can't even write a single word! I felt like a student trying to answer a test where I didn't study.

  Student… I miss being one. Well I can be a student again! Having another degree won't hurt me anyway.

  I got MBA two years ago. I didn't really like it. I wanted to take up Literature. But my dad wanted me to handle the family business when I reach thirty. Heaven knows that seems impossible now. But going back to school? Why not?

  I quit my study table and was about to stand up when a sudden vertigo hit me. I slumped back on the chair and rest my head on top of the table.

  This sucks. Of all kinds of cancer why brain tumor? Well, colon cancer hurts like hell. I saw my uncle suffer from the disease. But the headaches I experience can also be labeled as hellish. Guess it's just the same. My pills were just within reach but I decided not to take them. I don’t want to depend on myself with painkillers.

  My head started to hurt terribly. I fell from my chair and crumbled on the parquet floor. I can't describe the pain. There was no accurate word for it. Maybe some would define it like it was as if a drill was being drilled onto your skull. I don't know. But this pain was excruciating. It makes you forget anything around your surroundings. It makes you wish that someone blast your head with a revolver… Even a shotgun will do, anything to just to stop this pain!

  I wanted to shout, to moan, to groan, to cry out in pain. But I don't want anyone to see me in this state. That was the reason why I chose to live by myself, to spend my remaining days in solidarity. Call me emo, a masochist, or whatever. I don't care. I rather bear this pain alone than see my family suffer as they see me writhe in pain.

  I have heard stories about cancer patients who use their family as their source of strength. But how can you gain strength from them when you see pity in their eyes? Pity was the last thing I need.

  Chapter 3: Buddy

  I woke up and was surprised that I was lying on the floor when I remembered the events that happened last night. I slowly tried to stand up and leaned on the table for support. I’m used with waking up on the floor. It happened to me all the time.

  I decided to take a quick shower and have French toast and orange juice for breakfast.

  I gathered the papers and other documents I will need and hailed a cab. Guess I forgot to buy a car. I told the cab driver to go to the nearest university available in the area.

  I noticed that I’ve been making some impulse decisions lately but, who cares? This was how I'll live my life now. My days are numbered. There was no room left for procrastination.

  Half an hour had passed and I arrived at Mansfield University. I got out of the cab and entered the campus gates. Memories suddenly flooded my thoughts. This was the first time I've been here in this place but there was a sense of familiarity that greeted me. I felt like a student again. I remembered my classmates, the terror professors, and the awesome college life.

  Well, this was not the time for recollections. I asked a passing student for directions to their admissions office and she cheerfully led the way.

  The campus was big. The buildings were constructed with red bricks. Plant life was also abundant. I fell in lo
ve with the place. I was so engrossed with my observations that I did not notice that I was already in front of the office. I thanked the student who led me here and she left.

  The office was quite empty. There was only one personnel inside, a woman in her mid thirties, quite obese. She was sporting a bob and wore thick make up. She was busy typing something on her computer when I approached her.