His Eyes Followed The Sun

Chapter One: Cal

They say there are 5 stages of grief.

"Mr. Thomas, did you hear me?"

But they never tell you that denial hits you like a truck.

"Mr. Thomas, we need to discuss your options. Are you listening?"

Options? I have...options?

"Wait, what?" I asked, the dull lighting of the medical office attacked my vision like when I had first walked in.

Dr. Benavides looked at me with a grim expression, a deep frown setting on her face. The empathy weaving itself in her tan skin made the denial I felt weigh even heavier. It was a look that I knew she had become all but used to, the weariness only leaving my body feeling antsy.

"Mr. Thomas, I'm aware the news is hard to stomach," she said, leaning forward to rest her chin on her hands, "But, unfortunately, we have to discuss what your options going forward are."

I stared deeply into her dark eyes hidden behind her large round glasses, my eyes searching for anything to prove that it was all a dream, a farce, or even a horribly planned prank. Anything. Anything to shine a light into the dark place my mind threatened to fall into once I left this office and was surrounded by the realness of the world. This wasn't fair.

"What are my options?" I asked, the sound of my voice sounding foreign to me.

She looked at me. Her demeanor relaxed as she pulled a file from her desk, placing it in front of me.

"In this folder, states one of two options that we have regarding your condition. I'm sorry Mr. Thomas, but this is all we can offer you." She stated.

I reached forward, my hand shaking as I slowly grabbed the manila folder. I struggled to contain my fight or flight response, my hands pulling the folder open. What I saw inside made my feet feel like they had become encased in cement. Like I had been thrown into an ice cold river to sink to the bottom and sleep with the fishes. At least in that scenario I knew I would meet my end in a few minutes. Anything was better than waiting to die.

"What is this?" I asked.

"That," Her head tilted forward acknowledging the contents of the folder, "Is paperwork for admittance into hospice."

My body went numb.

The cement shoes I had envisioned becoming even more real.

"Hospice? Why do I need to be admitted into hospice?" I sputtered, looking from the paperwork to her back to the paperwork, "How long do I have?"

"Mr. Thomas."

I felt like I was drowning.

"No, you can't just give me paperwork like this and expect me to not ask these questions."

I needed air.

"Mr. Thomas."

Why were the walls closing in?

"That's not fair! What about this seems fair to you?!"

"Mr. Thomas, you need to calm down."

But I couldn't hear her.

"But I feel fine! I only came in for a headache. Just a simple headache." My face suddenly felt so wet.

"Breathe. Cal, you need to breathe."

My vision was starting to shake as it blurred.

"This is all a dream!" I cried. "That's right, just a dream. I'm asleep in the waiting room.... I'm just asleep in the waiting room."