It could have been a scene from one of those sappy TV movies. The doctor sat behind his big desk and gave me the bad news. It was cancer. My condition wasn't too apparent yet, but he said that when it got worse it was likely that it would happen fast.
"You can expect slightly sharper pains than you've been having at first, but it will worsen rapidly. Your liver is still functioning, but that will change soon, almost any time." He didn't look happy to be giving me the bad news. Well, I wasn't too happy to be getting it.
"So there's no option?" I asked.
"Surgery is out. It has progressed too far for that. You already said you don't want to try chemo, and that's certainly your prerogative. That's what I'd try first. Of course, there's never any guarantee, and often the effects of the medicine are as bad as the disease. If it were me, then I'd probably make the same choice. I shouldn't tell you that, though. I'm supposed to recommend trying everything before giving up."
"I appreciate the honesty, Doc," I told him as I stood up. "I have some things I want to do before it becomes impossible." We shook hands and he spoke to my back as I left the office.
"Call me when the pain gets bad and I'll phone in a prescription for you." I stopped and turned.
"Why not just give it to me now? Then I won't have to bother you again. I also won't have to wait in pain."
His eyebrows rose. "Good point." He pulled the scrip pad around and scribbled. He tore the sheet off and handed it to me. "Here you go. I authorized one refill, but if you wait until you really need it, I doubt you'll need the refill." That wasn't real cheery news, but then none of it was.
It was odd. You'd think I would be devastated. I wasn't. I'd expected it to be cancer that killed me. My parents and my sister had all succumbed to it -- different strains, but all the "Big C." Well, here it was. To tell the truth, it was kind of a relief to know. That might sound strange, but it was true.
I stepped out onto the sidewalk. Pedestrians bustled about their daily lives, cars and buses moved along the street. I wondered how many of the people passing by me knew they had cancer. Certainly some of them must. Then I wondered how many of them had it and didn't know it. I hadn't had a clue until I went through a week of having strange pains in my gut.
I wasn't envious of all the healthy folks. I'd lived long enough. I had felt that way for several years before that day. I wasn't suicidal, of course. There really were things I wanted to do and places I wanted to go before I kicked off. If I got to do them, okay. If not, then that was okay, too. My feeling in general was that I was ready for the next step -- even if it was a step into endless darkness.
If that was the way things were -- no afterlife, no heaven, no hell -- then that was that. If the faithful were right, if I'd be judged and sent to my reward, then that was okay, too. I'd lived a fairly good life. I'd always tried to be honest and treat people fairly. I didn't go to church, but I had never felt that was a sure guarantee. I'd known my share of religious hypocrites in my life. In short, I was ready and curious to finally learn the truth.
I walked to the parking lot and unlocked my car. As I drove home I wondered how to tell my wife. I'm 60 years old. Most people would say that a man of 60 is too young to die, but I disagree. My wife and I had only been married for seven years. I was hoping for more time with her. I'd finally gotten it right, after three previous tries. But if I had a choice of going out whole and in good health otherwise, I'd opt for that, rather than getting old and infirm. My grandfather had a colostomy bag for a year before he died. He always seemed pretty embarrassed by it. I know I would be.
Julie, my wife, thought she would be the one to die first. She's had some pretty serious health problems in her life. When we met, she was operating on the erroneous advice from a quack that said she only had about eight years to live. Another doctor told her that was bullshit and she stopped trying to measure out her days. She'd already beaten the original prediction.
One thing I was glad about was that it wasn't lung cancer. I'd been a smoker since I was about sixteen. The doc told me that my lungs showed the effects, but they were so far free of any evidence of cancer.
I got on the freeway and drove out of the city toward our home. Julie still worked, but I had qualified for a disability shortly after we married. So I have been the housekeeper and cook for most of our time together. The situation suited us both. Now I guessed Julie would have to learn to eat her own cooking again.
Julie is a real peach of a wife. She is the first one I've had who didn't immediately try to change what she said she liked about me when we got together. We have always had a great time together, both in bed and out of it. Yes, even at sixty, I have an active sex life. No Viagra needed, just patience and a partner with a healthy appetite for experimentation.
As I drove I let my memories roll by. Julie and I learned about anal sex together. She was more than willing to try it. Once she did, she found that she loved it as much as I did. Oral sex was always a party for us both. I rarely reached orgasm in her mouth, but that wasn't for a lack of trying on her part. For her part, she popped off almost every time I put my mouth between her legs. For that matter, she popped off pretty much at the drop of a hat.
That is probably a big part of the answer to why we are still so active sexually. She is multi-orgasmic and reaches the peak easily. It gives me a thrill when I help her get there, so it makes me feel good, too. I also love to watch (and help, too) when she masturbates.
I angled into the exit and slowed at the bottom of the ramp. I made the turn onto the county road and drove past the turn to our house. I went on to the strip mall and pulled up in front of the drug store. I got the prescription filled and stuck the small bag in my pocket. Then I walked down three doors, past the pet store, the hair salon and the dollar store. The clerk in the liquor store smiled and said hello. She was maybe thirty and looked like she hadn't a care in the world.
I picked out two bottles of Tanqueray and handed her my bank card. She rang it up and I signed for it. Back in the car I retraced my route to the turnoff. The county road gave way to the private gravel road. There were five homes along the road and we jointly maintained the access road. Fortunately the winters were mild enough that we rarely had to plow it. The big problem was the rash of potholes caused by the annual rains. It dawned on me suddenly that it was another concern I wouldn't have much longer. There were a lot of them.
I wouldn't have to worry about mowing the lawn, changing the oil in the car, putting up Christmas lights or a tree -- well, maybe one more year, who knew? Yeah, I was ready. I wasn't deluding myself. I have two daughters from a previous marriage. One of them turned out just like her mother and hasn't spoken to me in over twelve years. The other one is still my friend. She is married and starting her own family. She lives a million miles away, so we don't see each other all that often. We talk on the phone at least once a week. We email and send birthday cards. I don't think she'll miss me all that much.
Julie is my one big concern. She is going to be pissed. That was why I got the top shelf gin. It's her favorite. I turned into our driveway and pulled the car up next to hers in front of the garage. She kissed me when I stepped through the door. Then she took the bag from me and looked inside. When she saw that there were two bottles of Tanqueray her face crumbled. I was afraid she'd drop the bag but she clutched it to her belly as she melted into my arms. She knew I'd gotten bad news.
When she was finally collected I fixed us both a strong drink. We sat on the couch. She looked up at me. "How long?" she asked me.
"He can't say for sure and he refused to speculate. He said I'd know by the severity of the pain." I reached into my coat pocket and showed her the pills. "These are for when it gets too bad to stand." She studied the label and set the bottle on the coffee table.
"Of course you won't take them unless you have to," she said. "I know you." I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her to me. I kissed her and we kept kissing without speaking for a while. She sat up and drank off half her drink. Then she looked at me. I recognized the look. I tipped my glass back and almost succeeded in draining it.
We stood up without a word and walked hand in hand into the bedroom. We still didn't talk while we stripped. She pushed me onto my back on the bed and followed me down. She engulfed my stiffening prick and started sucking on it hard. I raised my knees and closed my eyes. Her hands were kneading my thighs and hips. Her wet mouth was hot on my cock. She'd gotten busy so suddenly that I knew this was one of the rare times that I was going to flood her mouth. When she worked her finger into my ass I lost it. With a groan I felt my sphincter squeeze her finger as I throbbed my semen into her mouth.
.... There is more of this story ...