Tillie has told Nora that her recent check-up at the doctor’s shows something suspicious in her lungs. She’s to have follow-up x-rays at a specialist’s.
Nora winced at this news. Although it isn’t unexpected because Tillie has inhaled those coffin nails since she’s been a teenager and still does. They visited a bit and then Nora left, shaking her finger at Tillie as she picked up a cigarette to light.
Nora hasn’t been able to get it out of her mind. She’s even envisioned a worst-case scenario (not that she wanted to but her mind is just like that):
Tillie has the big CA. And she’s refused to have chemo and is just going to tough it out. Everyone is devastated. Except it’s not general knowledge yet; only a few know, like Shiko and Crabby Molly and Small Bette and Nora. Nora has told Sara however because she tells Sara everything.
Nora is sad but also philosophical. How can one rail against the inevitable? The poet’s words, “Do not go quietly into that dark night” don’t make a lot of sense. “Fight, fight against the ending of the light” is pretty futile. Nora’s feelings are closer to Robert Browning’s “Let there be no weeping at the bar when I put out to sea.” Or Tennyson’s, “Twilight and evening bell and then the darkness.” Because the darkness is where all the Zoners who are here now will be within five or ten years. Including hers truly.
Nora will hope for her friend an easy passing; ideally, in her sleep, or in her old disreputable lounge chair in which she spends most of her time watching one of the 128 channels she visits; likely, the shopping one. Nora will come in without knocking, the door, as usual, unlocked, the light dim, the scent of tobacco lingering in the air. And there will be Tillie, legs out on the extender, head back, mouth a bit ajar.
Nora will sit down on the beat-up couch, look at whatever magazines and catalogs Tillie has pilfered from the library, nibble a pretzel from the never-emptying basket, and then, through her trifocals, look at Tillie. She might tweak her toe.
And then Nora will see she’s a bit late for a visit. All unaware, she’s been left; her dear friend has been spirited off by the angels. Regardless of how many “pshaws” Tillie said when Nora lightly mentioned what awaited them all. Tillie was a very good person. She had a heart of gold. Hard on the outside but soft inside. Nora will miss her dreadfully.
The only thought that sustains her is that, so0ner rather than later, they’ll be together in a much happier place than the Zone. And Tillie’s door will still be unlocked. “Hey, lady,” she’ll say, “come in.”
And Tillie will get up and dance a jig. Her gimpy leg will be straight and strong, her teeth all back in her head, her dandelion-gone-to-seed hair a deep brown, wrinkles smoothed out, boobs high and firm, saggy belly tight as a drum. And she’ll will roll those agate eyes and lean over to tell Nora the very latest on their friend, Peggy.
Only, before the story is out, someone else comes in. A beautiful blonde bimbo. Hey, it’s Peg in her glorified body. And from the words that come from her mouth, one would think her thoughts have all been put in order:
“Oh, I can’t stay long because Manny is going to… You know he always does that for me.” And Tillie and Nora will look at one other.
P.S. Tillie’s x-rays came back okay.
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7 comments:
I'm so anxious to know the news? I hope Tillie's x-ray doesn't show cancer. It's not a pretty way to go.
My brother died of lung cancer at the age of 51...
And yet...there are people in their 80's puffing away..without the aid of oxygen machine's...and they are still going strong. Makes you wonder! Why do some get cancer and some don't!
I will keep my fingers crossed for Tillie.
You know, at this point in her life, stopping smoking really isn't going to matter all that much to Tillie compared to the stress of being without her cigarettes. If she enjoys smoking, then I would just let it be.
In any case, I hope she gets over the next set of hurdles!
Thanks, Matty. Tillie is just fine, test came back negative. But wish she'd quit those cigs. But she never will.
Glad to see you're back blogging!
You're right, Peggy. She does enjoy smoking and won't quit. But Nora likes to scold her about it.
And she will have new hurdles, no doubt.
Oh Nora, I think it's time to get started on the Tobacco Chronicles blog. Actually, it appears that you already have. All the best to both you and Tillie. It's a pleasure to read your blog.
My father started smoking when he was 14 years old. He never tried to quit, or even taper off. He also dipped snuff, smoked a pipe, and drank a whole lot of whisky. (Ususally a quart of I.W. Harper a day.) When he was avout 50, he quit drinking. On stop smoking day when he was 86 he said it seemed like a good idea, before it stunted his growth, and quit smoking. He died at 102 of general ornariness, with no chronic illnesses, no daily medication, and cussing the NY Times for making the weekly crossword puzzle too hard, when he worked the two local ones every day with out any problems.
I hope it's genes, (and also hope mom wasn't messing around).
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