Time again to back track this is the year I got big C.
One day I got sick, my doctor said you got the flu take a pill you’ll pull through. As time passed, you know it does my flu it never passed. But a long Time it passed as it does I was still not feeling oh so good so back I went; yes back to the man again. It was then he said it had to be a vitamin deficiency.
Now this I’ll add by this time I had lost a bit of weight:
Now the man he took Notice of what was lost; so another blood test was sent away. Finally I went to doctor three, now a year and a half had passed. I was shipped up and down the valley so to where and when I went. Then one day at last I found, what I did not want to find.
I found out about big C and the many whys that were to come into my life.
Why I had lost these twenty pounds.
Why did I have the C.?
Why was all this now happening to me?
Why is a lot to take in.
Now this fine man of science said he would call me soon. But the medical man he did not call and tell me where and when, so I went on about my way. I did not ask or ponder why. Just silently went about my life.
Now I did go home; I told my love me wife. I said to my sweet dear wife: Honey I have this and it is thus, now of course it could be may be perhaps there’s hope, but the man he’s sure it’s C, sorry honey my sweet wife but yes, I need a few more test to be sure what kind of C I got, but the man he sure will call or send me out a letter.
Insert here that no one called, nor did a letter ever come.
From that point on my life had some real changes: Why? Well.
Some people cannot handle the big C. My dear my sweet was one of them.Not fault nor could I,but I stayed loyal.
And only asked her; why?
The reply at first, was the mournful cry: It’s not you, it’s me.
Those five words that all men dread, for when they hear them uttered all the time as the love they had falls out of lust and into bed with the new friend; the knives stab into the heart it seems the soul the spirit is ripped out; so when she utters those few words, each man they know the end is here. From that point on like those before and since I knew, yes as most men do; I knew the relationship was dead. The worst part is as you all know; so are you in every way; you’re a gone, gone, goner. For any part of you must be eliminated from her life, so she can move on, adjust to her new way.
Now add to this the dreaded C.
And as a fool I asked her, why?
I asked her why, oh she would cry; it’s not you it’s me. But I would ask it many times; to be given the same reply, I would yell, what I can do, I’ll change for you, but tell me what I did wrong, this repetition of what is wrong, what did I do; steeled her reply, firmly like the sergeant does with new recruit’s; barking orders cold and straight his the reply as hers took on the form of indifference: so there was nothing for me to say; (it’s not you) danger words. No it was, it had to be, it was me; I had the big C.
She was scared of me, scared she’d get it the dreadful C.
That is what she said in tears one day…
So in a short time a few short days I found myself outside my home, alone, no place to go, and another person that odd little stranger was in my home and my children were now his.
My love my wife she smiled at me; then she said to me; these last few words: we can be friends, now sad and depressed I said that it all depends on what you choose. On what you do. Sounds ok with me.
I still wonder why?