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December 24, 2007

twilight

Yesterday I drove up to see Sparky. I got to the place about eleven. I was his first visitor. He was still in his room, they told me to wait. The place he is is not a hospice and it's not a hospital, it's something in between. Sparky has inoperable tumors on his liver. He came out with his nurse and walker after about ten minutes.

Sparky isn't going to live to see the summer this year. Everyone knows it, including him, but nobody is admitting it. He is wearing a rosary now, a wooden one. About a half hour after I got there one-armed Rosco came in with Sparky's mom. She's 96 years old, down to one leg. Between them they have six limbs. They brought a cuban guy who had beaten colon cancer and is now fighting lymph cancer with some success.

Rosco brought christmas presents for Sparky, but he barely had the strength to rip the wrapping paper. He has lost 23 pounds in the last three weeks. He was breaking down in the middle of the cuban guy's discourse on how you have to eat while you're getting radiation, when his phone rang. It's strange, the sovereignity we give to a phone call, the way we let it destroy the moment, any moment. Sparky's voice is thin and far away now. The cancer is eating him up inside.

I wish I would be able to remember Sparky had all his color working for him, when he had a dance in his step and flashing eyes; but now I'll have to balance that with the memory of his 96 year old mother massaging his legs, holding his hands, rubbing his head; telling him she wants him to come home, wants to hear him again in the hall, coming and going, like before.

Rosco brought him a robe, some socks, some sweatpants. He said, "you know, stuff you can use while you're here, until you come home." Rosco did time for Sparky a while back, he's that kind of friend. Rosco has had over 400 speeding tickets.

The cuban guy had a different type of cancer than Sparky, and he has licked it for now -- that's why Rosco brought him, to prove that you can win that fight. He was full of helpful advice. When Sparky took the phone call, the cuban guy kept talking, telling me how to do it. Sparky closed his phone and showed him the bags he wears on his legs full of amber liquid. When the guy asked Sparky if he could do crunches, he showed him the tubes in his chest and in his belly. The doctors have a protocol, they play their games. Sparky kisses his beads when his eyes get wet.

The football games came on the big TV and I said I had to go, and that I would see him next weekend.

I heard the Ravens lost.

Posted by matthew at 06:35 PM | Comments (1)