Posts Tagged: chemotherapy

$3 Million for 7 Weeks

Three weeks after my partner Randy died of metastatic cancer, I called the oncology resident who had been his on-call doctor. I remember exactly how long it took me to make that call because I was in a place of noticing how long things took, with mild interest, like: when will I feel hungry? When will the best part of every day stop being when I’m asleep?

It took me three weeks to work up to hearing Randy’s doctor’s voice on the phone and simultaneously make words in English.There was something I wanted to ask her or, more accurately, something I wanted to make her say.

“If you’d known how [...]


How to Remember Father's Day

When my dad started inpatient chemotherapy we’d sit hand-squeezing-hand. I cozied as well as I could into the narrow blue plastic recliner beside the bed. Thank God for small miracles—the methotrexate toxified his piss and left him an immunological tabula raza, so he got a tiny room to himself. We kept our grief in this shoebox. His heels dug into the beeping beige footboard, and my mother complained. He got a six-inch extension piece so he could rest with legs extended—my daddy long legs.

We didn’t think about time in periods other than a day. There was nothing else. They pumped the Simpsons-esque neon green sludge directly into his [...]