Giving Her Cancer

Just before my third major surgery, when half my liver was scheduled to be removed, my father got on his knees in front of my husband, Howard Gross.

"I'm begging you, Howard. Just let Yvonne pass away in peace. Just give up on seeking treatment. She has gone through far too much suffering already."

Howard looked down at Dad, who was pleading profusely, and dragged him off to the side with an indifferent look on his face.

"I know you love Yvonne, but you should know that she's my wife. I won't cut off her treatment and let her die just because you're begging me to."

Dad stumbled over and slumped onto the floor.

I, the gaunt and frail patient, was lying on the hospital bed. When I saw what happened, I felt as if I were being repeatedly stabbed with a dagger. I was overwhelmed with anguish, but the pain of that was no match for getting various organs taken out of me.

I was diagnosed with cancer three years ago. When I got the medical report back and told Howard about it, he immediately grasped my hand tightly and declared, "Don't worry, Yvonne. I'm your husband. I don't care if I need to sell the house or take out a loan. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you recover."

Well, he did as he had said. No matter how much it cost, he adamantly kept paying for the treatments to keep me alive.

After seeing the sacrifices he was making for me, I held on as well, even though it was pure torment each time I had to undergo surgery to remove a part of me.

This all changed three days ago. That was when I had just been resuscitated after experiencing complications due to my cancer. I had overheard Howard who was on a call.

"Don't worry, Cami. Yvonne's cancer cells simply spread a little. As long as the doctors cut out her liver, she can carry on living. Don't be scared. Just trust me. No matter what it takes, I'll make sure Yvonne stays alive long enough for you to prepare yourself—until you're no longer afraid to get the surgery to replace your corneas."

After a pause, he continued, "Thank you for willingly coming to me when you found out about your eye condition and allowing me to help you."

Hidden under the blanket, my fists clenched tightly.

If I wasn't mistaken, the person Howard addressed as Cami was Camilla Leary, his first love.

Once, in a drunken stupor, he had repeatedly muttered her name with a pained expression on his face. I had also seen a relationship diary of his hidden on his computer. It was full of his affection for her.

All along, I thought Howard and Camilla no longer kept in touch. She was merely someone who lived on in his memories. Only now did I find out that he had long been maintaining close contact with her—so close that he was willing to sell off his car and house to keep me alive just so she had enough time to be mentally prepared enough to take my corneas for herself.

I had finally discovered the truth behind Howard's actions, and it was an utter joke. The medical devices that monitored my vitals all started beeping.

That night, I truly wanted to die, but I didn't get to.

Howard had done everything he could to make sure I survived. He even got on his knees and tearfully pleaded with the doctors.

"Please, doctor, please save my wife. I can't live without her!"

Everyone was touched by his display of devotion. Some of the nurses, who were easily moved to tears, even started crying.

As if to punish me for being an uncooperative patient and causing him to panic, Howard had me scheduled for surgery that night, under the guise of removing the cancer cells that had spread to my liver.

Even though Dad kneeled on the floor and desperately begged for Howard to release me from my suffering, that didn't stop Howard.