Live Like You were Dying

I don't want Her Afraid…

Disclaimer: I own no one!

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Struggling not to cry, Randy leaned back in the hospital bed. He couldn't believe his first hospitalization had to happen days before Christmas. Of all the times to get sick! He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be with Rhiannon. He wanted to enjoy the high-rise apartment they were temporarily renting. If they couldn't be home for Christmas, he at least wanted to make it homey for Rhiannon.

"John?" Randy rasped, gently shaking his husband awake. John glanced up, his eyes heavy with sleep. Randy felt terrible, waking him up, but he needed help. "John?"

"Yes?" he murmured. Randy choked.

"I need something to throw up in," he gagged, struggling not to vomit. He could barely keep any food down, no matter how much he tried. John handed him a pink plastic bucket.

"Rand, they're going to want to tube feed you" John murmured, rubbing his partner's back. "You're barely keeping anything down. Sweetie, you look terrible," Randy groaned, rinsing his mouth and spitting into the bucket.

His two hundred and forty-five pound frame was down to a scarily thin one hundred and forty. He hadn't meant to lose so much weight. However, being sick just did that to him. If anything, he would give anything to be back to his normal healthy weight. He hated looking so sick.

"Once this infection clears, I'll be fine," he murmured, referring to the infection running rampant through his chemotherapy port. "The antibiotics are making me nauseous, and the fact they reinserted my Hickman line doesn't help," He groaned. "I just want to spend Christmas with my daughter and husband. Why is that so difficult?"

He watched John scribble frantically in a notebook. He couldn't help but wonder what he was writing. Was John tired of watching him die? Why did he put himself through this hell?

"There is no way you'll be home for Christmas,"

The doctor's words caught Randy off guard. Christmas was four days away. How could he be so sure Randy would miss Christmas?

"You've developed a nasty case of Pneumonia, probably a side effect of the Hickman line Infection. If I let you out and something aggravates the pneumonia, you could die." The doctor explained.

Randy settled into the bed, struggling not to cry. He wanted so desperately to be home with Rhiannon. She deserved both parents at Christmas. Why couldn't life be fair?

"John," Randy rasped, watching the doctor vanish out the door. "Promise me something."

"Anything, My Love,"

"Spend Christmas with our girl," he murmured. "She deserves at least one of her daddies with her on it," He sighed, tears spilling from his eyes. "Sweetie, can we have a serious conversation?"

John sat down in a hard plastic chair. Reaching out, he gripped Randy's hand. He couldn't help but wonder what was wrong. He had never seen Randy so serious. What could it be?

"I'm trying two more rounds of chemo. If that doesn't work, then, I want to die peacefully," he murmured. "If I'm going to be in the hospital, I want to know my pain will end," Then, he began to violently cough.

He was grateful that John was there to rub his back, and tell him everything would be alright. He wasn't sure how to feel though, knowing John was giving up time with Rhiannon to be with him.

Children were only little for so long, Randy knew. He didn't want John to miss the crucial Toddler years, and regret it in ten years when he was gone.

Rhiannon had always come first with them. How many nights had they sat up, making sure she was alright because of a simple cold? Hadn't Randy refused to leave her side when she was born because she was in NICU?

"Rhiannon wants to visit you," John murmured, his gaze drifting to the Venetian blinds covering the windows. "I don't know what to tell her," Randy nodded. "Will she be able to understand how sick you are?" He sighed. "I don't want to upset her,"

Randy could sympathize with everything John said. Secretly, they were his fears. He had never gone so long without seeing his daughter. He missed Rhiannon more than he had ever missed someone.

Where was Santa when you needed him?