Time in Eternity

Time passes by. Ever so slowly. And ever so quickly.

Just sitting there, looking into his eyes. The sclera was white when he came in. But now it is slightly red-tinged.

And his dad. His dad looks like how a dad should be. Graying hair, wise eyes. Slim, soft spoken, walking without a stick - a rare sight to see indeed in places like these, places like this where the elderly is usually ravaged with so many complications.

They are planning a holiday to Spain this weekend. A true family holiday. And daddy comes in here to get expert advice.

Daddy wears a sweater. A sweater that holds a lot of secrets. Scars of the past, present, future. Scars that can be seen and that cannot be seen. Clothes hides a body's secrets well. And so can accessories of all kinds. Like him, accessorising his dad. Complimenting each other. The picture of health and happiness.

But once all clothes have come off, once all pretence put down, the dark, ugly monster rears its head. It's obvious. Even to my untrained eyes, it is quite big. But I am inexperienced. Incompetent.
But we have the Expert.

And so daddy puts on his clothes and sits back down next to him. And now the Expert talks. Does not say much. No exact words are mentioned. But the subject is approached apprehensively. Dread fills the room. Trepidation hangs in the air, choking, bitter, unpleasant. Every sound is amplified, fear and hysteria threatens.. just beyond the horizon.

Now, a slight hint of red at the corners of his eyes.

But daddy is still calm. So soft spoken, still keeping his composure. He insists that what he wants is to go on the family holiday. But they need a 'Fit For Travel' note for the insurance company. Daddy refuses any tests. As tests in this place, any test of any kind will tell us things we want to know, information that is essential in our field of study, pieces of the jigsaw to be fitted together. But once the picture is complete, it might be a picture beyond your comprehension, a sliver of the promised future that you will never see, an image of the person you once were, a snapshot of Hades. And sometimes, it is better to throw the pieces away, to keep only the beautiful parts to yourself, where you can stilll harbour hope for the unknown and undefined.

When daddy drew a ragged breath, the redness grow darker. It spreads its firey fingers into his eyes, turning white to blood red.

Still the Expert does not mention it. It is taboo in my field. Daddy asks what he should do but the expert advises daddy to do what he Wants to do. And daddy still says he wants to go on this holiday. So go. Go and do what you want.

Go Go Go.

But be advised, you might not come back.

For the cancer lesion is enormous, the left half of daddy's liver has enlarged to the size of a fist, protruding out of his stomach, obvious to the naked eye. No imaging is needed, the diagnosis is unshakable. Unmovable. Undeniable.

Go and be happy and do what you want, go.

Make an appointment in a months time to see me.

'Will I be around,' asks daddy and my Consultant says 'Just make the appointment.'

But he knows and now we know too - that in 30 days, daddy will not live to see the rising sun, not wake up to the birds' morning call and never will make it to the appointment; not next month, not anymore.