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.”



Comments
Post a Comment