Cancer Resignation

Day 1

Walter woke up on Tuesday morning and knew he was running late. The sun was slanting in the window at a different angle, he could hear his wife downstairs in the kitchen, and a TV playing somewhere in the house. Looking over at his alarm, he saw it was 8 AM. Grabbing the clock, he chunked it to the wall, busting it. This was the third morning in a row that it hadn’t gone off at 6 when he had it set for.

Getting out of bed, he grabbed the suit that was lying across the chair in a corner of the room and hurriedly dressed. Rushing downstairs, he kissed his wife, Sheila, on the cheek, turned down breakfast, telling her he was running late, and ran out to the garage.

Pulling out of the garage, he turned on the radio to his favorite alternative station and headed into work. Singing along to the music, he almost didn’t hear his phone ringing. Answering the call, he was a little surprised to hear the nurse’s voice from his doctor’s office. The doctor wanted to see him tomorrow, and it was urgent, so he said he’d go in on his lunch break.

Deciding he needed coffee, he stopped at the Quick Stop along the way. He made sure to pick out a Bavarian cream-filled donut before heading to the counter to pay for this morning's choices. On the spur of the moment, he asked the cashier for 10 Quick Pick tickets for Wednesday’s lotto drawing. For some reason, he was feeling lucky.

Once he was inside his car, he continued his trip to work. He was going to have to buy a new clock. So what, the alarm cost him $80 back in college; it had served its purpose, and it was time to retire it. No more holding on to it for sentimental reasons. He would be lucky if the boss didn’t fire him this time for being late.

Walter’s supervisor, Richard Wicks, was waiting for him in his cubicle when he arrived at the work building. With a sigh, he followed Wicks to his corner office and sat down in one of the visitor chairs. He listened to his reprimand, watched as he received his first write-up, and Walter promised to do better. Wicks told him to get back out there and get to work.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Walter decided to pick up some pizza for dinner, and messaged Sheila to let her know. Feeling tired, he went to bed early.

Day 2

Having asked his wife to pick up a new alarm clock the day before, Walter woke up on time Wednesday morning and made it to the office 10 minutes early. The morning went smoothly, and he almost forgot his doctor’s appointment.

Rushing over to Metro’s Medical Plaza, he entered through the main doors and headed to the elevators. Pushing the button for the second floor, he wondered for a moment just what his doctor found on his last physical. As soon as he entered Dr. Pendrake’s waiting room, the receptionist motioned for him to the door separating the exam rooms from the front of the office. Once he was through the opening, she led him back to the doctor’s private office. Then she left the room to eat her lunch.

Walter sat down in an overstuffed chair and asked Dr. Pendrake what the problem was. Knowing it was serious to be called in this way, he went straight to the point. Then he nervously fidgeted as he waited for the answer.

He didn’t have long to wait before the doctor began talking. “Walt, last time you were in here, it was time for a complete physical, if you remember. We took several tubes of blood for several different diagnostic tests. Those tests have come back, and the results are mostly good.” Here he paused.

Suddenly feeling an ill omen, Walter asked, “I feel a ‘but’ coming on, Doc. Com’n. Let me have it. I can take it. What’s wrong?”

Dr. Pendrake took a deep breath. Then began, “Most of your tests have come back showing that you are in perfect health, just as we thought you’d be. As you said, there is a 'but'. One test, an important test, has come back with troubling findings. You have prostate cancer, and you are already in stage 5. I’m sorry, Walt, you only have 2 months to live....”

Stunned, Walter was frozen, unable to speak or hear anymore. The doctor continued talking as he handed pamphlets, which Walt took numbly. All he could think about was how good he felt, though.

Stunned, he found himself back in his car, driving back to the office. Unsure just what his plan was, he pulled into the parking lot. Going inside, he took the elevator to his office floor. He was taking things one step at a time.

Sitting down at his desk, he opened his office email. Before he knew what his plan was, he’d started typing:

To: Richard Wicks, Dwight Beekmore

CC: John Brice, Blake Cainne, Shelby Wisenut, +25 others

BCC: Stella Brinks, Mike Miner, Toby Wayne, +125 others

Subject: My employment at this company

To whom it may concern:

Certain information has come to my attention, combined with the poor appreciation of Beekmore’s management, which has finally led me to consider this course in my life. Due to these circumstances, I have decided to quit this god damn fucking job and move on with my life, as long as I live.

I’m tired of watching as Wicks steals from the employee birthday fund to pay for his manicures.

I’m through seeing Wisenut and Miner continue their affairs behind their spouses' backs.

Cainne thinks he has hidden his embezzlement of funds. Which is funny, because so does Brice and Wayne.

And as for the owner, old man Beekmore? He’s got cameras everywhere, folks. He’s watching everything you all do. Why does he not fire you? He’s jerking off to each one of the bathroom, storage, and printer room liaisons you lower workers think you are hiding on your breaks. Some of you may even be adult film stars without knowing it by now.

So, now we’re to the point of this email. I’m leaving. Hasta la vista, peeps. I’m not working here another minute. I’m done with this place.

Fuck all of you assholes.

Fuck this company.

Fuck you, Beekmore. The pay was shit anyway. $55,000 a year isn’t worth the trouble.

Walter Sandrin,

ex-Beekmore office drone

Pleased with himself, Walter smiled. He timed the email to send in 20 minutes and then hit send. Rising, he turned and walked out of the building for the last time. Right now, he needed the comfort of home more than anything.

Rushing home, he pulled into the driveway and parked. Matthew, his brother, had parked his car in Walter’s parking spot in the garage. Wondering what Matthew was doing here during the day, Walt quietly entered the house.

Searching the first floor, Walter was unable to find Sheila and Matt. Some instinct told him not to call out and to tread silently. Going upstairs, he went straight to the master bedroom where he and his wife shared many an intimate moment. Upon opening the door, he was shocked to find the two most important people in his life lying asleep in each other’s arms. Naked.

Unsure what to feel at this point, Walter woodenly walked down the stairs and out the front door, leaving it wide open. Getting back in his car, he started the engine and left. He had no idea where he was going; he just drove until he was tired.

Growing weary, he began to look for a motel with a vacancy to spend the night. Finding a Traveler’s Inn, he pulled off the highway and hoped they didn’t have bedbugs. He checked in, then headed across the parking lot to the diner for a quick bite before going to bed.

When he walked into the motel room, he immediately sank into one of the beds. Too tired to check for bugs, he just kicked off his shoes. He was surprisingly comfortable.

Sadly, he couldn’t turn his mind off.

He wondered how long Sheila and Matt had been sleeping together. Did they laugh at his naiveness? The complete trust he had in his wife was now gone; nothing she had said in the 14 years of marriage meant anything anymore. As for his brother, he crossed a line that could never be uncrossed. Walter could never trust him with anyone he cared for again.

Then suddenly, his beautiful children came to mind, and a thought he couldn’t bear entered his thoughts, driving him to tears. What if his children weren’t his children? What if the kids he had loved since conception didn’t biologically belong to him at all? 12-year-old Alex, 9-year-old Allison, and 4-year-old Thomas, his pride and joys. Could it be possible that Sheila passed off another man’s children on him? His heart shattered into a million pieces.

As he cried himself to sleep, he had a fleeting thought about his lotto tickets. Too tired to check the numbers, he rolled over. Soon his snores filled the room.

Day 3

Rising the next morning unrested, Walter walked across to the diner. After ordering eggs over easy, bacon, and pancakes with syrup, he pulled the lotto tickets from his pocket. While sipping his coffee, he depressedly checked to see if he had any winners.

When he’d first bought the tickets, he’d planned on giving them to his wife if they were winners. To help with any future expenses she’d have after he was gone. The life insurance he had would pay for his funeral, his bills, and some of hers for up to three months. It wasn’t much, but it would help. So, he thought if he could win a few thousand, it’d help even more.

So, pulling up the website, he checked all his numbers. Then he checked them twice. Unbelievably, he checked them a third time.

Each of the quick picks he had bought, every single one, was a winner. Three for $1000. Another two for $5000. One for $3000. Two for $500. Then there were two whoppers at $10,000. There was a total of $37,000. Walt’s heart was racing. He’d never won this much money.

Finishing his breakfast, he quickly went and checked out of the motel. Jumping into his car, he took off, spinning his tires. He had to get to the Lotto Commission headquarters today to pick up his winnings.

Once he’d picked up his winnings, he decided to stay in the big city. Cashing the check, he went in search of a hotel with a restaurant. He didn’t have far to drive before he found several to choose from. So he chose the most familiar one to him and checked in.

Deciding what to do with the rest of the money would take some thought. Whatever it was, it was going to be good. He wasn’t leaving a dime of this to his wife.

Days 4-6

The next few days were a blur to Walter. Starting with him Ubering party supplies, including liquor, to his hotel room. He began drinking as soon as it arrived. Then, not caring how much he’d drunk, he began driving around the city. He was looking for a specific part of town, a certain type of neighborhood. He’d know it when he’d find it.

Then he saw what he was looking for. Pimps along the storefronts, hookers at the street corners, and the drug dealer standing by the trunk of their car, protected by his goons. Parking, Walter got out of his car.

With little thought as to what he was going to do, Walt walked right up to the drug dealer. Looking him square in the eye, he said, “I have 2 months to live, just won the lotto. My wife is fucking my brother. I want to party before I die. The works. You think you can arrange something?”

The dealer looked at Walt, nodded, and said, “Yeah, but it’ll cost you.”

“That’s fine. I’ll make it worth your while. If this meets with your approval, bring enough to party for a few days.” Then Walt handed the man a piece of paper with the hotel and room number written on it, plus a cash amount. He then turned, walked back to his car, and drove off.

From the moment he arrived back at the hotel, he started drinking again. He ordered room service, ate, and waited. He didn’t have long to wait. At 3 PM, there was a knock on his room’s door, and he opened it to 2 women standing there seductively. They arrived in pairs, in 10-minute intervals after the first two, with the dealer, Jerome, arriving with a couple of goons last of all.

The rest of the night and the next 2 days were a constant merry-go-round of booze, drugs, and sex to Walter. For the first time in his life, he let himself go and did things he was too scared to try in his youth. Unprotected sex with several unknown women and not only shooting drugs, but sharing the needles with others was something he never dreamed of doing. He no longer cared; he had nothing to live for and wasn’t going to live long enough anyway.

Day 7

Walter woke up Monday morning hungover and $37,000 lighter. Jerome had already left with everyone else. Now, Walt had to decide what he would do next. With no more mad money on him, he decided to check out and head home.

Arriving back at the house, he thought he’d quietly slip in, but Sheila was waiting for him. Following him upstairs, she demanded to know where he was and what he was doing. Instead of answering her, he began to undress.

Without saying a word, he went to his wife and kissed her hard. Soon, he had her undressed and in bed. They spent 30 minutes in bed fooling around before he rose and went to the bathroom.

As he stood there peeing, he wondered what had come over him. It was the first time in months he’d taken his wife to bed on the spur of the moment. He quickly forgot about his wife when he noticed the burning in his dick as he urinated. The pain was searing and intense, and Walt noticed a whitish discharge from the tip. Thinking it was a side effect of the cancer, he shrugged his shoulders and took his shower.

As he stepped from his shower, Sheila hollered from the bedroom, “Walt, the doctor wants to see you in an hour. What’s going on with you?”

Ignoring her question, he yelled back, “Okay, I’ll head that way now.”

Dressing, he left immediately. As he drove, he wondered just what the doctor would have to say. There didn’t seem to be much worse that could be added to the diagnosis than what the doctor already said.

As soon as Walter walked into the waiting room, the receptionist once again motioned him to come to the back and led him to the doctor’s private office. She waved him to sit, asked if he needed a drink, and told him the doctor would be with him shortly.

Walt didn’t wait long before Doctor Pendrake entered the office and sat down behind his desk. The doctor immediately began talking. “Walt, I don’t know how to exactly tell you this, other than to come out and tell you,” pausing, he took a breath, then continued, “Your test results were mixed up at the lab. They redid the test, and you don’t have cancer.”

“Then what’s wrong with me, Doc? It burns when I pee now, and I noticed a discharge this morning. If I don’t have cancer, what do I have?”

“I don’t know what you have now, Walt, but when the blood was drawn for these tests, you were still healthy. Sounds like more bloodwork needs to be drawn. What have you done this last week?”

Walter just sat and gaped at the doctor.