The 'C' Word

It’s been a year and four months since he came to live with me and he still doesn’t know who I am. He thinks I’m Lynn; she’s been dead for eight months. I bought him a new suit for the funeral.
I remember when it was just the dementia, now its dementia and the C word. Cancer. I hate to say it. It’s like coming to terms with the idea of watching my father die. His diagnosis couldn’t have come at a worse time. It arrived on the heels of an epic three-day battle between us (to say that he’s cranky would be an understatement). The news fell on me like the first shower of May, the bittersweet feeling of embracing something new while saying goodbye to something familiar. I knew that he was dying, I didn’t need the doctor’s confirmation, the C word was enough to propel my thoughts six months into the future. The house would be peaceful with him gone, lonely too.
I brought his breakfast in to his room this morning and found him lying in a puddle of his own blood, catheter in hand. I had been away from him for all of five minutes.
“Oh no! Oh GOD! Daddy, what did you do to yourself”?
“I got ta get this thing outta me. It ain’t no good”!
“It was there to help you daddy.”
“Nah I don’t want none of that.”
Exasperated, I threw my hands up in the air and left the room. I wanted to crawl into a corner and cry but it smelled of urine and he was in pain and would clot soon if I didn’t call for help.
I flew back into the room and was met by someone else, the sweet man from my childhood who picked daffodils for Ann and me and snuck lollypops to us right before bedtime when Mama wasn’t looking. His eyes were glossy, threatening tears.
“I’m sick, baby,” he said.
“I know, Daddy.”
“I’m dying.”
I had just enough time to clean him up and get a nurse on the phone before his sickness regained hold of his brain. The nurse arrived two hours later with coffee in hand. She had time to stop for coffee. I would allow it, I needed her to fix my father.

Hai!

This was quite heavy; emotionally, I mean. Is it based on fact, or pure fiction? Either way, it was good. It flowed nicely, even though it was so short. I would have liked more of a feel of the main character -- what's their name, how old are they, where's the rest of their family and all that.

“Oh no! Oh GOD! Daddy, what did you do to yourself”?

Your closing quote marks are the wrong way around; they need to come after the question mark and not before. You do this on the next line as well. Also, it's a little gimmicky to use all-caps for emphasis. The blasphemy's enough by itself, it shows the character's emotion and frustration very well, so you don't need to gild the lily by adding caps.

The nurse arrived two hours later with coffee in hand. She had time to stop for coffee. I would allow it, I needed her to fix my father.

I don't quite understand this part. Shouldn't she be mad at the nurse for taking so long and stopping for coffee when her dad needs help? Or does she see the coffee as something to help the nurse?


So, I did like this, but I felt you could have done more with it. Cancer's a big enough thing by itself, but the fact that the dad's got dementia makes it that much more hard-hitting. And the character's "relief" at the news was interesting as well; you could have expanded more on that and explored their relationship in more detail. This feels more like the setting up for something bigger, like a prologue.

PM me if you have any questions!

-twit

Thank you! This was originally written as a very short piece for a prose writing workshop that I'm taking at school, and there was a two page limit, so that's why it's so short. We were supposed to write something that included the four types of conflicts. It was rushed and done the night before it was due, but it got a great response when it workshopped and I wanted to see what people who don't know me had to say about my writing. I really appreciate your feedback. Thank you so much