Prologue 1: Hot Dogs

"Angelo, Barbara has a stage two Malignant Mesothelioma of the Peritoneum, which is a disease in which cancer cells are found in the sac lining the peritoneum, or as you would call it, 'the abdomen'. The cancer has spread beyond the lining of the abdomen to the lymph nodes. Barbara will shortly be undergoing a procedure to drain the fluid from her abdomen this will reduce the discomfort. Medication will be introduced into her abdomen to prevent any further collection of fluid. When she has recovered... say, by next week... we will begin a clinical trial of surgery, radiation therapy and chemotherapy, we hope..." the doctor droned on but I had stopped listening at that point.

Barbara, my beautiful Barbara, was taken from me. But only after my Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Final Acceptance, and then right back into the soul ripping depression again.

Denial is not the first stage, shock is. I sat there shocked, unable even to think of even denying that this could even be happening to my beloved Barbara. Then the 'Unrealness' of what I'd just heard hit me like the whole world had just come crashing down on me. I thanked the Doctor, got up, left his consulting office, tenderly gathered up the 'Love Of My Live' into my arms form the waiting room chair she was sitting in, then I just held her, intending to never let her go.

Anger... I can tell you a lot about anger. I raged against everything, 'till my soul was so tired that I stopped feeling anything. As I waited in the private seclusion of the regional cancer care facility's family waiting room, I raged, I screamed my anger at the universe, God, Country, the doctors, the ever-patient nurses (we never give them enough notice, appreciation, or even acknowledge their individual heroism)... I especially screamed at Barbara for betraying me. That I did not utter a sound as I sat there means nothing. By the time I was done, I felt nothing; my soul had died, leaving me hollow.

The extent of my bargaining was to offer myself to whatever Power would save Barbara... they took everything but me; and then they took Barbara.

I remember reading this: "Depression occurs as a reaction to the changed way of life created by the loss. The bereaved person feels intensely sad, hopeless, drained and helpless. The pet is missed and thought about constantly. There are two types of depression associated with mourning. The first one is a reaction to practical implications relating to the loss. Sadness and regret predominate. We worry about the cost of treatment and burial. We worry that, in our grief, we have spent less time with others that depend on us. This phase may be eased by simple clarification and reassurance. We may need a bit of helpful cooperation and a few kind words. The second type of depression is more subtle and, in a sense, perhaps more private. It is our quiet preparation to separate and to bid our pet farewell. It is best to remember that a simple hug is a powerful thing and sometimes that is all that is needed to ease the moment."

That at some level I was still in denial, had not escaped my notice. That I was fighting to escape the mind numbing depression by reading about the loss of a PET was pathetic. But it helped. The realization that I was preparing to be separated from Barbara, forever, caused something to snap within me. She was not gone yet, and we were going to spend the rest of her life, together! The last months of her life were grand. We danced, we laughed, we lived her life to the fullest, and we Loved.

I finally accepted that My Beloved Barbara was going to die. There was nothing I could do to change that. I accepted that I loved her the day I met her, more the day we got married, the most the day she died. Even then, when I greeted my fellow mourners, I accept that I would always love her, and accepted that the love I felt for her would be enough for me to go on with my life. I would never truly be alone; I had my love for her.

My life continued with very little of my own personal involvement. The court settlement, their acceptance of blame for the asbestos that caused the cancer, came through one month to the day, after her death. The sum awarded was enough to pay off the funeral, the American medical treatment, the double mortgage on our house, the loans, the other loans, the lines of credit, with enough left over to leave me very comfortable for the rest of my life. What I did not use to set up the six figures-a-quarter trust income fund, I invested in those of our friends who were with us through the horror, and delights. Our friends took care of me, made sure I was never alone, helped me through the grief, took care of the day to day details of life; and then gave me a good swift kick, that finally woke me up again. True friends... I will treasure the memories of them, always.

There was a series of women; some were nice, but they were not Barbara. Some were gold digging bitches. One even got very good at playing Barbara for whole moments at a time. For a while I 'dated' professional companions, but in the end, they were even less like Barbara than the bitches.

Then there was Catherine, 'Honey' to her friends, but I called her Kate. I was a bastard, and her parting words to me, 'When you get you head out of your Ass, give me a call', were a lot less than I deserved. I found myself falling in love with her, so I became 'The Bastard'. It was a role that suited me. I was scared I was going to lose the one thing that gave my life meaning, and it was Kate's fault. My 'brilliant plan' was to become 'The Bastard' and drive her off, then I would not be in love with her, and my Love for Barbara would be safe.

'The Bastard' became such a good role for me, that I separated myself from my friends, from everyone. I moved to the cabin, I brought enough food and other necessities so that I would not have to see anyone for at least six months. That first day, I cleaned, put the supplies away, ate, and then slept. The next day I got up, bathed, dressed, ate, went for a walk, read a book, ate, undressed, slept. Those were my days; I lost weight, grew fit, expanded my mind and slept.

One day, I suddenly realized that I still loved Kate, and I still loved Barbara. I finally got my head out of my Ass, turned on my cell phone, gave Kate a call... and found out about the Plague. She had been quarantined in her apartment, and she was dying.

It took me hours to get Kate. By the time I did, she was dead, and they were already in the process of disposing of her body in a mobile crematorium.

I went home, and in a shell of blackness, I listened to sound bites of a world dying.

"The death rate keeps climbing... no end in sight, the Plague is now responsible for over two billion deaths... the authorities were promising a cure any day now... death toll now at three billion... avoid people, boil your water, do not go out, isolate yourself and your family... stay calm, do not panic... looters will be shot... death toll now at four billion... we can not even dispose of the dead we have now..."

THE WORLD WAS DYING!

The world was dead, and the news stopped. When I woke up, there was silence from the TV. The slightly out of focus camera showed the dead body of the last TV Personality slumped over a news desk.

I went out onto the streets, and roamed for hours. I saw no one; nothing lived, but a few dogs. I went home, turned off the TV, and slept.

When I woke up, the bed was soaked, I stank, I was thirsty, I was starving, I was weak, I could barely move. I crawled out of bed, made it to he master suite's bathroom, and drank my fill right from the tap. I crawled for hours to reach the kitchen, I found four boxes of Kraft Dinner left behind in the cupboard, I broke one open and ate it raw. As I crunched my way through it, I put on a pot of water to boil and cooked the other three. I barely made it to the sink before I threw up the first box. I drank some more water, using a glass this time; and found some cans of Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup, and two cans of Heinz Beans. They were there because I could not bear to throw out Barbara's 'comfort food'... 'Stop laughing, they remind me of my childhood, ' she would say when I teased her about it.

I slowly recovered, I ate a little soup; showered, shaved about a weeks worth of growth off my face, drank some more water, and went to the guest room to sleep. When I woke next, I felt a little better. I showered again, and then got dressed. I ate the KD, then the beans, the last of the soup, and drank my fill of water. Then I rested. When I woke again, it was daylight. I felt pretty good, no aches no pains, no hunger, no thirst. I even noticed that I was back into 'The Bastard' role, again.

Prologue 2 »