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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1534700-Tomatoes
Rated: 13+ · Other · Contest Entry · #1534700
contest story about tomatoes and more
Maryanne thought about her tomato garden; with this heat she would have to water it as soon as she got home.

“The pain you are experiencing is not from gallstones,” said Dr. Dunleavy.

While that might have been good news to some, Maryanne had stones for years and was familiar with the pain. She thought silently, “If it’s not stones, what could it be?” She let the tomato garden leave her thoughts for a moment, and looked into Dunleavy’s eyes.

He hesitated a moment and said, “You have gallbladder cancer. It is stage III, so your options are limited. Is there anyone you would like to call?” She took a minute to digest what he said, and her thoughts returned to the garden. Allowing her plants to wilt in the heat would simply not be forgivable. “No, I am fine,” she replied.

Dunleavy’s voice was distant now, and his words drifted like mist through Maryanne's thoughts of her garden. “The 1-year survival rate for advanced gallbladder cancer is less than 5%. The median survival is 2 - 4 months. I am so sorry to tell you this – are you sure there is no one you would like to call?” Barely acknowledging the doctor, Maryanne thanked him and went home to her garden.

All she needed to do was to turn the handle on the spigot counter-clockwise one-quarter turn. Cool water sprayed relief from a hose pierced by small holes. The flat hose was lying on soft dirt between neatly sown rows of tomato plants. Satisfied her plants were safe from the heat of the day, Maryanne went inside.

Maryanne saved her eggshells and the grinds from her percolator to use in her garden. She kept them in an old coffee can on the kitchen counter, just below the clock that was clutched in the talons of a plastic bald eagle, along with the American flag. The can was sealed with a piece of Saran Wrap, held in place by a green rubber band.

She lifted the can from the Formica and sat down at the kitchen table. The last light of the day broke through the gaps between the trees, found its way into the kitchen, lit up the coffee can and warmed her hands. It would be easy to wallow in self-pity and cross-examine her life. Instead, she planned her next 2 - 4 months. “That should be plenty of time to finish growing my tomatoes,” she thought.
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