On Tuesday morning Henry woke up and stared at the alarm clock for three minutes before it went off, playing a tune on the radio that he did not recognize. His wife didn’t stir; he knew this without looking back as he padded down the hallway towards the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later he was dressed in his khakis and polo shirt. His wife always teased him that since he had retired this had become his uniform. It was true that he had approximately seven pairs of the same pants and owned the polo he was wearing in every color that L.L Bean made. Nonetheless he resented her for this. Women have more options than men, he thought.
He grabbed a donut from under the clear plastic dome overtop the tray on the kitchen counter and went outside to his car. He heard but didn’t listen to an NPR show as he drove to the hospital. Henry took the first spot in the parking garage and puffed out his chest a little. He made his way through the tight hallways of the hospital, trying not to look around too much or to breathe too deeply. He noticed that he must have taken a turn that veered from the directions the woman at the front desk had given him because he was definitely in a wing with admitted patients. Once he found the doctor’s office he sat in one of the uncomfortable lobby chairs and filled out paperwork without reading it.
Henry spent four more hours having tests done on Tuesday as morning turned into afternoon. When the doctor told him he had stage two testicular cancer he looked down at his khakis and thought of his wife – women have more options than men.
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