Did Die Essay New Not Selected Some Us Document Based Essay
"I think maybe I should just move in with you guys," he said.
"Just to help out for a couple of months." That meant leaving his job, his city, his friends, his apartment, his life. *** We readied ourselves for the physical horrors of death. She told us, "Just don't let me stink." She shed weight, but we expected that.
I remember white tile and a hope: Nicole was thirty-four, and the doctor had been direct: "It's everywhere," he said. *** Dane decided to move in around Christmas 2013, on the night our dog died. Nicole had ovarian cancer, which had metastasized to her stomach, and she endured a series of physical insults that, taken individually, would have been shattering; a single trip to the chemo ward, watching what looked like antifreeze flow into her veins while the nurses offered me cheese crackers, would have changed my life forever.
"Like somebody dipped a paintbrush in cancer and flicked it around her abdomen." I staggered down a hallway and then collapsed. Taken together, though, the surgeries and chemicals all form a smear that can't be taken apart and examined.
I called her oncologist, who used a word I had never heard before: When there's an infection or some other foreign thing in the body, the flesh works to eject it, forming tunnels to the surface. "If I have to put her in a backpack and carry her to the chemo ward, I'll do it if it means getting an extra day with her." Julia is a kind woman, but honest.
Dane had come to visit after Thanksgiving and never ended up returning home.
He burned through his weeks of vacation time, visiting the hospital during the day and sleeping at our house each night.
I sent a photo of her to Dane, and a few minutes later he sent one back. Men trailed Nicole everywhere; in grocery stores men would follow her from produce to dairy and out into the parking lot.
When she smiled, men imagined she needed them, and she smiled a lot.