Page 49 of Follow My Voice
“How do you manage to keep your sense of humor under these circumstances?” He runs his hand over his bald head. “I admire you, Klarita.”
“Cancer has taken too much from me already. My mother, my hair, my energy… If I let it take away my sense of humor, I’ll have lost everything.”
The reality was that I was very depressed; I hadn’t even been able to grieve my mother’s passing before I started my own battle with cancer. But somehow Dario looked even more depressed than me. The first time I saw him, he didn’t speak or interact with anyone. That made me want to cheer him up and be a source oflaughter for him, even though I was dying inside. Trying to make him smile was my motivation to be strong during chemo.
We sit together as the medication, hanging from a metal rack between us, enters our veins. Dario motions for me to lean closer, and he whispers, “Wanna hear a secret?”
I nod.
“If you say you feel nauseous, they’ll bring you Jell-O. Any flavor you want.”
“Really?”
He nods. “Ask for strawberry, the other ones taste like medicine.”
I try it out and, sure enough, the nurse brings me a cup of Jell-O. Dario and I high-five, giggling.
After I’d recovered from my mastectomy, I wanted to stop by and visit with him; I hated the idea of him sitting there alone during chemo. Very rarely did they let family members in, and Dario didn’t want his relatives to see him like that anyway, so he always asked them to wait outside. I thought he might get depressed being there alone, so I bought some strawberry Jell-O and went to see him. But I was told he had passed away.
I was devastated by his death in many ways that I cannot explain.
I sent a letter to his family, offering my condolences and telling them how wonderful it had been to get to know Dario—how he had made me feel stronger and made the treatments more bearable. Dario had talked about his son, but it would’ve never occurred to me that it was the same Diego. What a small world we live in.
Diego holds out a hand to help me up, bringing me back to the present.
“I’m sorry, Diego. I didn’t know.”
He pulls me into a hug. “Thank you so much, Klara,” he whispers. “In the name of my father, may he rest in peace.”
Tears spring to my eyes and I try to hold them in. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about Dario and it’s as if the pain is now revived with the memory of him.
Diego’s eyes are red. “Your letter was a comfort to my mother and me. Thank you.”
I don’t know what to say. I have no words.
Diego takes a step back. “I gotta go, but I’m going to take you out for the best strawberry Jell-O in the world, and you can’t say no.”
I smile, my vision blurred by tears. “Okay.”
Diego feigns a smile in return as he walks away. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to get to know me, whether you like it or not.” He shrugs. “You don’t have a choice.”
“If you’re anything like your father, then it would be my honor, Diego.”
He gives me a thumbs-up before turning to leave. Even after his death, Dario has found a way to brighten my day, to encourage me to stay strong. He helped bring someone new into my life today.
Thank you, Dario.
22Understand Me
I’M GRATEFUL FORthe upcoming weekend; it will provide time for well-deserved rest. I consider the days I’ve managed to attend in-person classes a small victory, as well as my online class, since I have to leave my camera on. Now I can once again enjoy the comfort and safety of my room. I won’t have to see Kang, which is a relief for my anxiety, but it also makes me sad. Now that I’ve met him, I want to continue seeing him.
It’s dark out and I’m sitting by the window, remembering my last panic attack and how Kang stayed on the phone with me until it passed, distracting me with thoughts of autumn. He’s been so kind, so understanding.
Part of me still can’t believe what happened today. I had face-to-face conversations with Kang, Erick, and Diego, three guys my age, and I didn’t die trying. A few weeks ago, if someone had told me that I would do what I did today, I wouldn’t have believed them. I didn’t think I was capable of talking to anyone my age. Let alone a guy I like.
I guess Dr. B. is right: Every breakthrough, no matter how small, propels me further down my path to a normal life. Today felt pretty normal.Ifelt normal.
For the first time I truly begin to believe that I can do this. I feel even more motivated, especially after the conversation I had with Diego. The fact that my words had a positive effect on Dario’s family feels gratifying.
