Least Selfish
I stand over the makeshift exam table, cradling his little head and talking to him softly so that he lays still on his side. I understand nothing of what the ultrasound shows, just black and white insides moving with his rapid heartbeat and shallow breathing. He looks at me, eyes-wide, unsure and terrified of the stranger holding his legs apart and murmuring in a language neither of us can understand—human for him; medical jargon for me.
“Tumor de 16cm.” That much I do understand and my heart speeds up, catching up with his rapid beating, lungs sink into my stomach matching his shallow breathing.
I know we couldn’t escape it, the damned cancer. It was bound to come back, one way or another, in one body or another. I just wish it was me instead.
I look over at him as I fix the bed we set for him in the middle of my mother’s living room, playing with his paws, his ears, talking to him with as much energy and softness as I can muster. I understand nothing of what he’s thinking as he lays on his side, trying his best to make room for what he carries inside, so that it does not crush his organs. His heart beats steadily, the double drumming of its murmur matching the pace of my own, now found in the pit of my stomach.
He looks at me, wide eyed, and wags his tail softly as I call his name and sing gently the melody I sang ages ago to a brother he never got to meet. I know it deep down, despite not having the results of the many exams he went through in the span of a day. I know it will be back, the damned cancer. I just wish it was in me instead.
I cradle him in my arms, looking over him as I make the final choice. If you could stop someone’s suffering at the cost of their life, would you do it? I ask myself that question as I play with his ears, feel the drumming of his heart against my legs, the soft wagging of his tail brushing up against my arm. What is the least selfish choice? I feel my insides churning, my stomach threatening to hurl heart and lungs.
When the choice is made and the time comes, he lays on his side, slightly whimpering because of the pressure of the thing growing inside. I lay next to him, holding onto his frail body, singing the song I sang many yesterdays ago, tears falling down as the liquid runs its course. The double drumming slowly fading against my arms, his breathing steadying until it stops.
I stand over the makeshift death bed, cradling his little body and talking to him softly. Wide eyes closed for the last time, laying still in a calm sleep. I understand nothing of what happens once the life is gone from the body, but I hope there’s something of him that can still hear me and feel the love firing from within me, energy searching for a sign.
❤️🩹💐