A Love to Live For Read online

  “But you don’t like him?”

  “Not in a romantic way…yet,” I answered. “But I do think he’s a nice guy and I like spending time with him.”

  Bridget fell silent.

  “Did I give the wrong answer?” I asked, worried.

  She grinned. “Silly, there’s no wrong and right answers here. I just wanted to know how you feel and I appreciate your honesty.”

  I smiled. “Well, can I ask you a question in turn?”

  “Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

  “Is Joseph really not undergoing any treatment for his condition?”

  Bridget’s expression turned serious. Then, she shook her head. “I tried to convince him, of course, but he decided not to and I’ve decided to respect his decision.”

  “So you’re just going to watch him die?”

  I saw a hint of anger in Bridget’s eyes, which were almost brimming with tears. “Do you think I wouldn’t save him if I could? That I wouldn’t shoulder all of his suffering if I could?”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything, Bridget.”

  “I tried, okay, but Joseph doesn’t want to, and I don’t want to make him suffer any more than he already is,” Bridget continued in a calmer manner. “Besides, ever since he made his decision, he seems to be better. It’s almost as if he’s not sick, in fact.”

  I placed my hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just…I just feel that it’s wrong for him to give up.”

  “Sometimes, there’s no other choice but to give up,” Bridget said. “Especially in a fight that you didn’t choose to begin with.”

  I nodded. “I understand.”

  “You should respect his decision, as well,” Bridget told me. “It’s his life, after all.”

  I nodded again, squeezing her arm and saying nothing, waiting for her to calm down completely. When she had, we talked a little more about more pleasant things, then, I left the shop.

  For a moment, I was tempted to just go back home and abandon my quest, but I was not only persistent. I was stubborn. And after speaking to Bridget, I was even more convinced that Joseph’s decision was wrong. How could he choose to refuse medical treatment and give up on living when his sister, who loved him so much, wanted him to live? How could he give up hope so easily?

  No, I still could not see how he was right and so I could not respect his decision like Bridget was doing and had asked me to do. Only right decisions deserved to be respected, after all. Wrong ones needed to be challenged and corrected.

  I was still intent on changing Joseph’s mind, but after that conversation with Bridget, I realized just how much harder it would be to convince him to do that. If Bridget, who was the sister he looked up to and who had cared for him most of his life, had tried, after all, and failed, then there was a slim chance I would succeed, and so I decided to get someone to accompany me, someone who could possibly persuade him better than I could.

  At first, I thought of getting my Dad but thinking that Joseph would probably only be scared of him and not consider his advice objective, I decided to talk to my doctor, Dr. Gardner, who had treated me since childhood.

  Sure enough, he knew about brain tumors and even said his younger brother specialized on them. Still, he was reluctant to come with me and it was only after some considerable pleading that he decided to grant my request.

  With my bike at the back of his truck, we drove to Joseph’s house. Then, we both stood on the front porch as I rang the doorbell.

  For a while, I was afraid that Joseph was still doing his lesson, but finally, after five minutes, he emerged and the moment he saw me, his face lit up.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked as he stepped out of the doorway. Then, he stopped as he saw Dr, Gardner behind me.

  “You know Dr. Gardner, don’t you?” I asked him.

  Joseph nodded.

  “I asked Dr. Gardner to come with me and talk to you about the treatments for, um, for your condition.”

  Joseph’s expression became serious and a little disappointed.

  I gave him a weak smile. “Well, we talked about it last night, but I felt like we needed to talk about it some more. I thought that if I brought Dr. Gardner with me, then he would be able to help you understand what your chances and options are better.”

  Joseph said nothing.

  “Well, I’m no specialist,” Dr. Gardner said. “But my younger brother, Harold is, and he’s quite good at it. If I refer you to him, I’m sure he’ll happily assist you and give you a discount on his professional fees even.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Gardner,” Joseph said. “I’ve already discussed all that with my doctor, though. His name is Dr. Penning. He’s from Baltimore.”

  “Don’t believe I’ve heard of him,” Dr. Gardner said. “But I’m sure he’s good, as well. However, in cases like this, a second opinion is usually important so if you want, you can always consult my brother.”

  Dr. Gardner took out a card from his wallet and gave it to Joseph.

  “I will think about it,” Joseph said.

  “Well, I better go,” Dr. Gardner said. He patted me on the shoulder and whispered, “I’m sorry I can’t help you persuade him but he seems to have his mind up already and I don’t really want to intrude. The doctor, after all, must always respect his patient’s decision.”

  “I understand,” I told him, suddenly feeling sorry that I had brought him. “Thank you very much, Dr. Gardner. I really do appreciate it.”

  I took my bike out of his truck and watched him drive off. Then, I parked my bike and returned to Joseph, who was sitting on the steps of the front porch, his expression clearly showing some displeasure.

  “What was that all about, Rebecca?” he asked me.

  “I just wanted to help you, Joseph,” I told him as I sat beside him.

  “So you told someone else about my condition.”

  “It’s only Dr. Gardner. He won’t tell.”

  “You still told someone else,” Joseph said, his eyes and his voice filled with hurt. “Besides, I already told you. I’m not undergoing any treatment and I don’t want to. Geez, I can’t believe you brought someone else into this.”

  “Why not? Why don’t you want to undergo medical treatment?”

  He paused before answering, and I could see that he was gathering his courage, too, the topic obviously making him feel uncomfortable and afraid. “Like I said, we can’t afford it.”

  “I’m sure there are a lot of people who can help,” I told him.

  “And there’s no guarantee it will work anyway.”

  “But there’s a chance it might.”

  “It might just make things worse.”

  “It could make things better.”

  He looked at me, impatience already showing in his eyes. “You don’t understand.”

  “Then help me to understand,” I told him. “Because I really don’t get why someone like you would just give up…”

  “I’m not giving up.” He stood up. “I’m just giving in. I didn’t want this, okay, but it’s what God gave me and I’m trying to live with it, to not resent Him for it. Why can’t you just back off and let me do that?”

  “Because you don’t have to live with it.” I, too, stood up so I could be beside him. “You don’t have to die, Joseph. You can…”

  “What do you know?”

  “I know that brain tumors can be cured,” I said. “In fact, a lot of people who have had them lived and got better after receiving treatment.”

  “And a lot of people have died, too. Do you know that?”

  “You still have a chance, Joseph. Take it.”

  “Why are you being so insistent?” He turned to me, the impatience in his eyes already turned into anger. “You don’t even really care about me.”

  “I do.”

  “If you’re so scared of falling in love with a guy who’ll just vanish one day, then why don’t we just stop seeing each other right now? That way, you won’t have anythin
g to worry about anymore.”

  “That’s not…”

  “Why are you being so selfish?”

  “I’m the one being selfish?” I felt my own anger rising. “You’re the one who’s ignoring the fact that there are so many people around you who love you and want you to live.”

  “And what about me? Aren’t they ignoring the fact that I don’t want to keep on fighting when I’m not sure I can win or that I just want to live my life in what peace I can get?” He turned his back to me. “It’s my life.”

  “And you can get to keep it if you just keep on fighting and hoping,” I told him. “Who knows? A miracle might happen and you might get cured and…”

  “You just don’t get it, do you?” He turned to face me again with his hurtful gaze. “Not everyone can keep believing that God is good just like you. Not everyone has the strength to keep on hoping.”

  “You’re just a coward. Don’t you see that what you’re doing is just like committing suicide?”

  “It’s not! Why can’t…?”

  He suddenly stopped, both his hands grabbing his head before he slowly collapsed on the porch, my arms barely able to catch him, though I was able to keep him from hitting the floor.

  “Joseph!”

  Chapter Five

  Joseph turned out to be alright, having just fainted in the middle of a bad migraine. Shortly after Bridget arrived home – I called her as soon as I had finished being on the phone with the doctor – he regained consciousness and seemed to be fine. He did not want to talk to me though, or even see me, and so I sadly took my leave.

  Once home, I locked myself up in my room, as I often did when I was upset. For a while, I just lay still on my bed, staring at the ceiling as I had done last night. Then, I got up and decided to work.

  After a few minutes, I realized that I couldn’t work, though. I couldn’t even draw some random image, my mind refusing to cooperate with me, and so I went back to bed and grabbed an old book and when even that didn’t work, I simply put my earplugs on and drowned myself in music.

  After a few songs, I felt my frustration receding and as it did, my mind grew clearer, clear enough for me to sort out my thoughts and emotions.

  Why did I feel so bad?

  Almost immediately, two reasons popped up inside my head – one, because my argument with Joseph, which had turned out to be more heated than I had anticipated, caused him to lose consciousness, and two, because Joseph was now obviously mad at me.

  Just a moment ago, I was also mad at Joseph – when someone gets mad at you, after all, your first instinct tends to be to get mad at them, too – but now, I knew I wasn’t. I was simply frustrated that he refused to listen to me, and that he had ended up fainting, which made me look even more like the villain.

  Wait, so I was frustrated with him because he fainted?

  I shook my head. Now, that sounded very immature. I was certain Joseph did not choose to faint, after all. It just so happened that he did.

  It made no sense, then, for me to be frustrated with him because of that. What made sense was for me to be frustrated because of all the things he had said before he fainted.

  Or did it?

  The first time I replayed that conversation, or perhaps more accurately, that confrontation, I was convinced I was still right, that I had said nothing hurtful or unnecessary or not worth listening to. The succeeding times I replayed it, though, my conviction wavered a bit each time and my doubt increased.

  Had I truly been in the right? Or was I just being self-righteous? Was it truly Joseph who was being selfish, or was it me?

  After a while, it was clear my monologue was going nowhere, my questions piling up and the answers nowhere to be found and so I decided just to go to sleep instead.

  When I woke up, it was already the middle of the afternoon and after eating a snack – I finally got hungry after skipping lunch because I wasn’t able to work up an appetite – I decided to work, and managed to get one illustration done before dinner.

  I still couldn’t get all of my frustration to evaporate, though, and so I remained silent during dinner, which, of course, caught Abigail’s attention.

  “What? Don’t tell me you and Joseph are fighting already?” she teased. “You’ve only been on one date, haven’t you?”

  I said nothing. In fact, I pretended I had heard nothing, my eyes not moving from the plate of fish nuggets and salad greens in front of me.

  Abigail smirked. “I told you you should have taken some tips from me,” she went on. “After all, it is only polite to receive when someone is giv--”

  “Abigail, that’s enough,” my Dad stepped in.

  That managed to silence Abigail, though I could feel her narrowed scornful gaze on me, getting mad at me because I had refused to respond to her taunts. I felt my Dad’s gaze on me, too, though his was more of concern as well as a tinge of curiosity about my silence. Still, I said nothing.

  After dinner, it seemed as if my Dad could not contain his curiosity any longer, either that or his concern had turned into worry, because as soon as my sisters had gone to their rooms, he helped me wash the dishes and started talking to me.

  “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

  I grinned. “Dad, you’re making me feel like I’m still a child.”

  “You’re still my child.”

  “Then again, I don’t remember you talking to me like this when I was a child. I wasn’t Daddy’s girl, after all.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I was more of Mommy’s little girl, remember?” I smiled as I remembered how my mother and I had once dressed up in dresses made from the same fabric, hers without any sleeves and buttons down the front and mine with short, puffy sleeves and buttons down the back, both with a pocket on the right side and a bow on the left. I had been so happy back then to wear something that was almost the same as what she was wearing, even though I didn’t particularly like wearing dresses at the time, making me feel as if I was just like her.

  I suddenly missed her, not just her enchanting smile, her contagious laughter and her delicious food, but simply her presence, and of course, her words of advice, which I needed sorely at the moment. She had been not just my mother, after all, but my best friend.

  “Well, you and your Mom sure were tight,” my Dad agreed, the tinge of sadness in his voice letting me know that he had also suddenly remembered Mom. “But all three of you have always been my girls and that’s especially true now that your Mom isn’t here with us anymore.”

  I nodded as I soaped a glass with the sponge in my hand, swallowing the lump that had suddenly formed in my throat at the memory of my mother. She was gone now, after all. She had been for the past nine years and all I could do was draw strength from my memories of her.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes?”

  “If Mom didn’t die in an accident,” I spoke slowly. “Let’s say she was dying of an illness, but then she didn’t want to undergo any treatment. How would you have felt?”

  “I would have felt sad, of course,” he answered after a small pause. “I wouldn’t want to lose her. I’d probably feel angry, too, and try to convince her to undergo treatment, but if she really didn’t want to, I would have respected her decision and supported her wholeheartedly, without any resentment.”

  “So you’re saying her decision would have been right?” I asked, not believing what I had just heard, especially from a preacher. Wasn’t he supposed to say that he would keep convincing my Mom to undergo treatment because it was a sin against God to throw one’s life away?

  “I’m not saying refusing medical treatment is right, especially if you can afford it and if there is a big chance it will work,” my Dad explained. “But if your Mom was already suffering, not just physically but also emotionally, and if the treatment would only prolong that suffering and not, in fact, cure her, then I would have gladly allowed her to live the rest of her days the way she wanted to.”

&nb
sp; “But what if there was still a chance she could be cured?”

  He paused thoughtfully. “All medical treatments have a chance of alleviating suffering and a chance of failing. Whether or not a person wants to take that chance is up to him or her.”

  “So you’re saying you would have just allowed Mom to die slowly and peacefully, even though there was a chance she could still live?”

  “If that is what she chose, yes,” my Dad answered. “Though if she had, she would have chosen it for the sake of those she loved and not for her own.”

  “But if you love someone, wouldn’t you want to be with that person for as long as you can?”

  “Rebecca, you do not understand. Put yourself in the shoes of a dying person for a moment. If you were dying, would you want the people you love to see you withering on a hospital bed or would you want them to see you happy tending plants in your garden or walking with your dogs? Would you want to burden them with your own suffering?”

  I said nothing, though I was beginning to understand his point.

  “You may think that refusing medical treatment is selfish, but it may be one of the most selfless acts of all,” my father added. “On the other hand, if you insist that someone you love undergo medical treatment, ignoring his or her own wishes, then it is you who is being selfish because the reason you want that person to live is so you won’t suffer, so you won’t be left alone.”

  “But isn’t giving up on life the same as throwing it away?” I asked, bringing up my final argument. “I thought throwing your life away was against God’s wishes.”

  “It is, but refusing medical treatment isn’t throwing your life away,” my Dad said. “When you throw your life away or commit suicide, to speak plainly, you wish for death. In refusing medical treatment, you do not wish for death. Rather, you are simply accepting your fate and placing yourself in God’s hands.”

  The words sounded similar to what Joseph had said, making me frown as I understood now what he had been trying to say, what I had been refusing to listen to.

  “It seems I have only troubled you more,” my Dad said.

  I shook my head. “If anyone has been causing me troubles, it’s just me. I should have paid more attention, opened my mind more.”