Never Grow Up: Prologue
“Peter
is going to die.” The words burned from Edmund’s hoarse throat as his
face crumbled with grief. The adults were in the study, discussing the
news the doctor
told Peter’s father. Peter was eleven years old and had recently
suffered from dizzy spells and horrible fevers. His skin always appeared
bruised and his stomach was never settled. He often complained about
terrible pain in his arms and legs, and for a time
the warning went without regard, as it was expected of boys to
experience a fair bit of pain as their bodies stretched and grew in
length and girth. The men, Peter’s father Edmund and uncle Patrick,
exchange nods and tears among grumbled words.
“Impossible! How could such a thing come upon such an active boy?” Uncle Patrick
“Peter
has Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia. The doctor were very concerned and
had repeatedly informed me that there is no available cure.” “I fear
there is anything we
can do.”
“How long does he have?”
“With
treatments he may have a six months. However, the treatments would risk
comfort and mobility during the entirety of the time and would only at
best, prolong suffering.
Without treatments, Peter is expected to live maybe half that time, but
he’d feel more himself.”
“My Lord!” What do you plan to do?”
“I’m
uncertain.” Edmund shuffled nervously in his office attire, picking at
the buttons on his shirt beneath his tie. He had debated himself for the
last few hours over
what steps should be taken and how. The fear of all parents, realized
as the veil of possibility tore among the shrouded reality that a child,
Edmund’s child, was going to die, and the unsettling truth that there
was nothing anyone could do to stop it. The
fear actualized in a painful state of choices, to either let the boy
live as a boy would without the fear of time, or cling to time, allowing
both boy and body to exist in a faded haze, without resemblance of a
wild youth.
Whatever you decide, May and I will do all we can to help.”
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