“So you telling me that although I’m already halfway taking care of you and Xavier, since you decided to go to school, you wanting me to do more?”
“Fabian, you act like I chose to get sick. I’m sorry that this is happening to me, but I don’t have a choice. If I don’t do it, it will only be a matter of time before the infection gets in my blood stream and kill me.”
He huffed as he paced back and forth in front of me, while I sat on the couch staring at him. Fabian was the love of my life. We had a two-year-old son and were talking about moving in together and getting married. He knew of my health issues when we first became a couple. He chose to accept those issues, because it didn’t seem like those issues were affecting me negatively. Now that they were, he was acting like he wouldn’t be able to handle it.
“So, when they amputate your leg, you obviously won’t be able to work for a while. I have to assume that you’ll have to withdraw from school since you just started this semester.”
“Yeah. I have to withdraw. The antibiotics aren’t working because of multiple myeloma. It’s like it’s fighting against the medicine. That faulty knee replacement messed up everything. Had it not been for that, things would remain just the way they are. Fabian, I’m going to do everything I can to lighten the burden on you. I’ve already applied for Medicaid, disability, and other forms of government assistance. You can move in like we discussed, and that will cut the bills. Baby, I need you. This is going to be hard for me too.”
He huffed and slid his hands down his face. I couldn’t believe he was making a big deal out of finances when this was a matter of life or death for me. I was diagnosed with cancer when I was twenty-eight, two years ago. While multiple myeloma was typically found in adults over sixty, it was possible for someone as young as eighteen to be diagnosed with it. It was incurable but could definitely go into remission with proper treatment.
My doctors had said that I could choose not to do anything about it since it didn’t seem to be progressing. However, what they didn’t tell me was that it could definitely hinder my healing if I ever became ill, due to my white blood cell count. Although my knee replacement happened before my diagnosis, the knee they put in, somehow, had gotten infected. I was pretty sure there was some type of “recall,” so to speak. If I didn’t have cancer, this would have been an easy fix. I would take antibiotics to get rid of the infection, and they would remove the jacked-up kneecap they put in.
“I need time to think, Az. This is a lot.”
“Are you serious? What is there to think about, Fabian? The woman you love could die without this surgery, leaving you and her two-year-old son behind. That should be an easy decision.Your response should have been, ‘Don’t worry, baby. We’ll manage. I got us’ or something like that. If you’re having to think about what to do, that tells me everything I need to know.”
He stopped pacing and stared at me with a frown on his face. “And what exactly does that tell you?”
“That maybe you aren’t the man for me. If saving my life isn’t a no-thought-necessary decision, then maybe you don’t love me the way you profess. This decision is easy for me, although I know the road to healing, physically and mentally, will be a difficult one. It’s either cut off my leg or prepare for my funeral. I refuse to leave my baby motherless. He needs me. I can still have a very full life without a leg, and I can have that without you as well. While that’s painful to admit, I refuse to crumble because you can’t be the man I need you to be.”
He nodded repeatedly, then grabbed his keys from the coffee table and left without so much as a look back. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. It took me four days to have the courage to even tell him of the doctor’s report. I needed to be able to accept it for myself before I could relay it. When the doctor told me, I completely broke down. The reason I wasn’t on treatment for multiple myeloma wasn’t only because it wasn’t progressing. Even if it was progressing, I wouldn’t be able to afford the copays. Being sick was expensive as fuck.
I was doing the best I could, working in an office doing medical billing for a home health company. They offered health insurance, but the insurance didn’t pay 100 percent. On my salary, I could only pay bills and take care of my son. I’d gotten a Pell grant to go back to school but had to alter my work schedule. While I wanted to take online classes, I knew I wasn’t quite disciplined enough for that. I had too many distractions at home.
I wanted to get a finance degree so I could get a better job to take care of myself and my son. Fabian had just proved thatmy decision to go back to school was imperative. I couldn’t trust him to take care of us. Having to get my leg amputated was something I didn’t want to go through, but I was hoping the State of Georgia would be kind to me. Fabian was paying child support, but that shit was barely enough to pay the light bill, let alone daycare.
My family wasn’t in a financial position to help me either. Sometimes, I was the one helping them when I had extra. This was so fucked up. The lady at the food stamp office told me not to apply until I was no longer working. I would get the max benefits then. If I applied now, I would have to tell them I had a job.
When I informed my job of my dilemma, my supervisor actually cried with me. While I wouldn’t classify us as friends, we had a great working relationship. Even my coworkers were pleasant. This job had been a blessing. There was some stress involved with meeting deadlines, but what job didn’t have stress? My pay wasn’t the best, but it was decent enough to take care of the two of us.
I didn’t know what lay ahead for Xavier and me, but I knew I had better start making preparations now. I could very well die on the operating table. Surgery was risky, but it wasn’t nearly as risky as doing nothing. Grabbing my phone, I called the doctor’s office, and the second his nurse answered the phone, I said, “Let’s do it.”
The tears fell down my cheeks as she assured me I was making the right decision. I knew that I was. The doctor had informed me that if I did nothing, within a couple of years, I could die from sepsis shock. What was so hard for Fabian to decide? He knew I was pretty much a loner. After Xavier was born, I’d alienated myself from the ratchet ass people I considered friends. They proved they weren’t my friends whenthey pushed me to the side anyway. Since I was no longer partying and clubbing, I was of no use to them.
When I ended the call and had scheduled the surgery, I called my mama. She answered on the first ring, going right into conversation without a greeting. “What decision did you make, baby?”
“I’m going to do it, Mama. Surgery is scheduled for the beginning of next month.”
“Okay. You know I’m here. Whatever you need me to do. How did Fabian take the news?”
“He left, Mama. He said he needed time to think about what I was asking of him. I told him that if he needed to actually think about it, he wasn’t the man for me.”
“Good for you. I knew that already, but I was waiting for you to see it for yourself. You deserve so much better, baby.”
“Well, I’m not thinking about love. I have a son to take care of, not to mention my damn self. I’m done with love. That shit hurts.”
“You’re still a young woman, Azari. You’re hurt and angry. I promise, if the right man comes along, you’ll rethink all that.”
I rolled my eyes. Men weren’t shit. I knew not to generalize, but it was hard not to when that was all you’d known. Heartbreak after heartbreak was what I’d become accustomed to. I was only thirty years old, but I’d had three failed relationships. The previous two ended because of their fuckboy ways. This relationship, . . . I just didn’t know. He may have been doing the same shit they were doing, just better at hiding it.
None of that shit mattered anymore though. Love was off limits. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Love didn’t pay bills. Hell, the fucked-up versions of love I’d just encountered didn’t even give a fuck whether you lived or died. I had to concentrate on the shit that was important and the love that I knew was unconditional.
After ending the call with my mama and letting her know that Xavier and I would be by to visit tomorrow, I relaxed on the couch, thinking about all the provisions I would need to make without financial help from anyone. Just as I felt like I was getting overwhelmed, I heard, “Mommy! I woke!”
I smiled slightly and nodded my head, pushing all that other shit out of my mind. My reason for everything I did needed me. That was all the motivation I needed to make this shit work.
ONE YEAR LATER . . .
