It's Tuesday afternoon. My boss's door is open and the light is turned off. I have just finished my lackluster lunch and I feel numb. Tomorrow morning, Isaac and I will be traversing the American skyline on our way to Chicago for the AWP Annual Conference and yet, I'm not excited. My boss and I have been planning this trip since last April. He has been to Chicago before so he has regaled me with stories of the Windy City and how much fun he's had there. Until the end of May, we--my boss and I--continued to hammer out the details of the trip; but then the world changed for us: my boss was diagnosed with cancer. He tells me that his prognosis is good but he attends chemo therapy twice a month. He tells me that he feels great but we all see him stagger and hear him throw up in his private restroom. He asked me, while reeling from the news of his cancer, "What are we going to do about AWP!?" I suggest Isaac go with us so as to lend a helping hand. Having seen too many of my own family members sucumb to cancer, I know only too well treatment for cancer robs the strength and tires the muscles. Like a shark in the throes of feeding, chemo eats everything in its path and does not discriminate friend from foe. In December, we booked our flights. Isaac and I scrambled to get the $300 dollars necessary for his flight. We did it thanks to Mom. I finally got everything together and waited for today. If we could just make it one more week. We would be back with vivid memories of worthwhile adventures but alas, my boss is too weak to make the trip. He has just informed me that he cannot make it and is leaving it to me to handle the conference on my own.
Tomorrow morning--just before 7am, Isaac and I will board the plane. He will be excited and I will be nervous. We will joke around and make each other laugh and the plane will have at least one empty seat. The excitement of the adventure is heavily diminished knowing the last trip my boss could make happened a year ago.
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