Chapter 9 - Memories of Max
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We were both circling, skirting the issue. He was testing me to see if I showed emotions that would tell him the true situation. I was trying to protect him. This incident was repeated another couple of times. At that point I was not prepared and I could not face the issue head on. I was not ready yet for these sudden vital questions and I was ashamed of my reactions

Towards the end of Max's treatment I had to go back to work. I had spent nearly nine months off work and was greatly indebted to my employer. Now I had to consider going back. I told Max. One night he confessed his fears.

"Dad, I'm scared."

"What are you scared of, Maxie?"

"I'm scared of the dark."

"Are you sure it's not because of the illness or your treatment?"

"No. I've been through much worse than this."

"Well how do you feel about the illness and the treatment?"

"Well there's one good thing and one bad thing. The good thing is having you around, the bad things, the things that I don't like, are being sick, having blood taken, having a Hickman line, being tied to drips and being miserable. Dad, I really don't want you to go back to work. I don't know how I will cope if you're not here."

"I have to go back to work Maxie. I have to work so that we can live. The only reason that I have not been at work is because you have been so ill."

"What would happen if I was ill again? Would that mean that you could stop work?"

My blood ran cold and I was horrified at the implications of these questions. I had spent so long trying to give Max the will to fight his illness. Now reared the spectre of Max willing himself to be ill again just to keep me at his side.

"Maxie, you mustn't be ill again. Look at what you have been through, you wouldn't want to go through all that again. All that pain, all the chemo, all the medicines. Surely all that is not worth having me at home?"
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