In story #7 of the Jack and Diane series, they face an unwanted diagnosis.
Another test of their relationship.
Enjoy the story. Previous six stories are here.
Rare and Aggressive
Bob Gillen
Jack Marin pulled his Ford F-150 into Diane Somers’s driveway, behind her Toyota Prius. He turned off the engine, sat in silence. How do I talk about this?
The clock on his dash read 6:30 p.m. An hour since he got his diagnosis. Since he lost something. Something as yet undefined.
Diane came to the door, her face grim. She stood, waiting, giving him space.
Jack slid out of his truck, walked toward her.
“It’s bad?” she said.
He nodded. “Yeah. Bad.”
“Come in.” She held the door for him.
Jack walked to her kitchen table, sat in his usual place, back to the living room. Diane came up next to him, stood there, her arm gently around his shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”
“Do you have coffee?”
Diane poured a cup from the French press. “Just made some.”
He sipped the coffee. “Better than the ‘Bucks, any day,” he said.
Diane sat opposite him.
“I had to wait for a bit. The patient ahead of me was late. Then his assistant ushered me to the doctor’s office. I was never there before. Usually an exam room. I knew…”
She reached across the table and touched his hand.
“He said the biopsy revealed carcinoma on my prostate. The spot he was concerned about after the MRI. He said it’s a rare and aggressive carcinoma.”
Jack sipped his coffee.
“Shit,” Diane said. “What now?”
Jack shrugged. “He wants to remove the whole prostate as soon as possible.”
“Will that get the carcinoma?”
“If I’m lucky.”
Diane frowned.
“If it doesn’t spread…”
“So…we hope for the best.”
“I guess.”
“Any after effects?”
“I’ll be incontinent…at least six to twelve months, maybe longer. I have to wear a paper diaper.”
“Oh.”
“And I will have ED.”
Diane’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yup.”
Jack raised his coffee mug to his lips.
Diane said, “I ordered pizza. Should be here soon. Are you hungry?”
Jack shook his head. “Don’t think so. Maybe.”
He shrugged. “I knew right away it was bad.”
“We’ll get through it,” she said.
“Your boyfriend, the one with big boy pants and a non-working dick.”
“My boyfriend…stop there. The rest is not important.”
Jack looked up from his coffee mug. “I won’t have much to offer.”
“You’ll be here. That’s what counts.”
The doorbell rang. “Pizza’s here.” She got up to answer the bell.
“Will you feel bad if I eat?” she asked. “I skipped lunch today.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
Diane pulled a slice out of the box and grabbed a napkin.
“I feel so bitter,” Jack said.
Diane peered at him over her slice.
“Bitter. My first reaction. Not fear or even anger. Bitter.”
Jack grabbed a napkin and a slice. “Maybe I am hungry.”
“Why bitter?”
“Did I ever tell you this? I pray every night for health. Years ago I listened to the audio tapes of a couple of Pema Chödrön books. You know her? The Buddhist nun?”
“I’ve heard of her. Don’t know her work.”
“She teaches you how to pray, in an expanding kind of way. Pray for yourself first. Then open your prayer to those close to you. If you are comfortable, move your prayer out further to those you may not know. And if you are able to, if you feel the generosity, even pray for your enemies, for those who do you and the world harm.”
Diane nodded.
“It helped me when I lost my wife…Anyway, especially the last few months I have prayed for health. For freedom from illness and malignancy. I have prayed to the spirits of love, to the healing power of the universe. I believe in that. And here I am…a rare and aggressive carcinoma. Not just a malignant cell. Rare.”
Jack set his slice down on the napkin. He lowered his head in his hands. Shook his head. “I’m not ready. I have too much to do yet. It’s not my time.”
Diane said, “Okay then, it’s not your time. Believe that. Hold on to that thought as you go forward.”
Jack looked up, nodded. “Can I stay here tonight? Nothing intimate. Just be with you. I need you.”
Diane’s eyes filled with tears. She got up and came to Jack’s side. “Stay here, of course.”
In the morning Jack woke to the smell of coffee. He rolled out of bed right away, got dressed, headed for the kitchen.
“Good morning.” A cheery greeting from Diane.
“Morning.”
Jack hugged Diane. Hard. Close. “Thank you.”
Diane smiled. “We got this. Don’t know how yet, but we got this.”
Jack sat and sipped his coffee. “Any leftover pizza?”
“In the fridge,” she said.
He got up, put two slices on a paper plate in the microwave.
“I don’t know yet when surgery will be. The doc said within six weeks.”
“Okay.” Diane stirred oatmeal on a small pot, added raisins.
“How long have we known each other?” he asked. “Three months or so?”
“Three months, two weeks, four days.”
“Okay.”
The microwave beeped.
“And we have both been playing this very cautiously. Friendship, with a touch of affection. An occasional PDA.”
Diane nodded. “It’s what we both needed to do.”
“Right. So…six weeks or so and I will never be able to be intimate with you…no matter how slow we want to go.”
“And…”
“I don’t know if I want to be intimate now…before the surgery.”
Diane poured the hot oatmeal into a bowl. “We don’t need to decide that today.”
“No. I mean, if we were intimate now, it would be wonderful, but then we would never be able to do that again.”
“What exactly are we talking about here? You will not be able to have an erection? No orgasm?”
“I think so. The doc was not too specific.”
“But my parts would still work.”
He smiled. “A one way street.”
“One orgasm, two intimate partners.”
Jack waved his hand. “Enough on this. How about we hit the beach later today?”
“I could do that, if you go home to shower and change first. You may be sick, but you’re not throwing in the towel.”
He smiled. “Any more pizza in the fridge?”
Later, on the beach at Point Dume, they walked back and forth along the water’s edge.
“I like you, Jack Marin.”
“Back atcha, Diane Somers.”
She reached out to hold his hand. “I feel like I might be moving towards loving you. Not sure yet.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
They stood still and listened to the surf crash on the sand.
***
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