He Refused to Treat My ALS

I walked out of the doctor's office, clutching the test results, my face grim.

My husband glanced at the report and saw the three words that would change everything: Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis.

He didn't say a word. He went home and cooked me a feast of all my favorite dishes, the ones he was famous for.

After we ate, he looked at me, his expression serious.

"Chloe," he said, "we still have to put our son through college. This disease it's a bottomless pit. There's no cure. Maybe we shouldn't even try to treat it."

I stared at him, stunned.

He continued, "If it were me, I wouldn't want the treatment either. I couldn't let one person drag down the whole family."

"Chloe, I hope you understand."

Of course, I understood him.

So I nodded. "Okay. We won't treat it."

What he didn't seem to realize was that I wasn't the one who was sick.

Mark had been complaining of weakness and fatigue for a while. I hadn't been feeling great myself, so we went to the hospital for a check-up together.

When the results came back, the doctor called me into his office alone.

"You're Mark's wife, correct? Based on his test results, he has ALS."

Those three letters exploded in my mind. I knew exactly what they meant.

"Doctor, money is no object for us. Please, do everything you can to slow the progression of my husband's illness, to give him a few more years of quality life. Where there's life, there's hope. I don't care if we have to sell everything we own."

I was trembling when I left the office.

I tried to compose myself, but Mark could tell something was wrong.

He glanced at the papers in my hand. I quickly stuffed them into my purse.

Mark didn't say anything, just pulled me into his arms. "You must be hungry. Let's go home, I'll cook you something delicious."

He made a spread of all my favorites.

I couldn't hold it in any longer. The tears started to fall.

He gently wiped them away. "Let's eat first. We can talk after."

I guessed he already knew.

After dinner, we sat in silence for a long time.

Finally, Mark broke the silence. "Chloe, maybe we shouldn't treat it."

I sobbed. "No! The doctor said with proper treatment, we can manage the symptoms. He can still have a few good years!"

"But the cost of treating ALS is astronomical. It's hundreds of thousands a year. It's too much for us."

I grabbed his hand. "Don't worry about the money. We both have good salaries. Even if only one of us is working, we can afford it. We'll just have to tighten our belts a little."

"Chloe, we still have to put our son through college. Your illness is a bottomless pit with no cure. Let's just not treat it."

I froze.

"What did you say?"

"If it were me, I wouldn't want the treatment either. I couldn't let one person drag down the whole family."

"Chloe, I hope you understand."

So that was it. He hadn't seen the name on the report. He thought I was the one who was sick.

I pulled my hand away. The tears stopped instantly.

It's amazing how quickly love can die.

"Okay," I said, my voice flat. "I understand. We won't treat it."

Mark visibly relaxed. He took my hand again. "Chloe, it's not about the money. I'm just thinking about our son's future."

"He'll need to go to college, maybe study abroad. He'll want to get married someday. All of that costs money. If we drain our savings on medical bills, what will he do?"

"And the most important thing is, there's no cure for your disease. Why would we waste money on something that can't be fixed?"

I pulled my hand back. "That's enough. You don't have to say any more. We won't treat it. It is a waste of money. And since you said you wouldn't get treatment if it were you, how can I argue?"

"I'm glad you understand. We can use the money we save to travel. See the world, try new things, experience different cultures. It'll be great!"

For a second, I felt a pang of guilt. Had I misjudged him?

I wanted Mark's last days to be happy.

"Okay, then. Book the tickets. You pick the place. We'll go as a family, wherever you want to go."

"Great. I'll start looking up destinations."

He spent the rest of the evening on his phone. I assumed he was researching our trip.

Three days passed, and I heard nothing.

"Mark, have you picked a place? When are we leaving? I need to request time off from work."

He avoided my eyes. "I was about to book the tickets, but my dad was suddenly hospitalized. I have to go be with him. And I don't feel right about you and our son going alone."

"Let's wait a little while. When my dad is better, we'll go."

Mark had a tell. Whenever he lied, his eyes darted back and forth.

"Then I should go see your dad."

"No, don't. Hospitals are no place for you to be right now. Dad will understand."

"By the way, I won't be home after work today. I'm going to the hospital to stay with him."

I didn't call him out on it. I just nodded and said okay.

At seven o'clock that evening, the GPS on Mark's phone showed his location as a high-end karaoke bar.

I took a cab straight there.

After a quick word with the hostess, I went to the private room he was in.

The door was slightly ajar. Before I even went in, I could hear Mark's voice, booming with confidence.

"Everyone here is a good friend of Jessica's, so don't hold back! Whatever you want to drink, whatever you want to eat, order it. It's on me!"

Cheers erupted from the room.

"Mark's the man! Jessica will be in good hands with you."

Mark had his arm around a woman I didn't recognize, a wide grin on his face.

I pushed the door open.

"Mark. Is this what you call 'staying with your dad at the hospital'?"

The noisy room fell silent.

Mark snatched his arm back from the woman's shoulder as if he'd been electrocuted.

"Chloe, what are you doing here?"

"If I hadn't come, I wouldn't have known you were having such a party. Who was it I just heard was going to be 'in your hands'?"

"This is Jessica. She's my new secretary."

"We just closed a big deal at work, so I'm treating everyone to a night out. My dad has a nurse with him, so you don't need to worry."

"I've been to your office dozens of times. I know all your colleagues. How is it that I don't recognize a single person here?"

Jessica stood up, her face a mask of cold fury. "They're my friends."

I laughed.

"How generous of you, Mark. Treating your new secretary's friends to a place this expensive."

"Why don't you introduce me to everyone?"

Mark stood frozen. I linked my arm through his and addressed the room. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Mark's wife. My name is Chloe."

The room was dead silent.

A girl sitting next to Jessica sneered. "I know who you are. You're Mark's wife, the one with ALS."

"Mark is a saint for not divorcing you, knowing you have a disease like that."

I looked at Mark. "So, even your new secretary's friends know about this? You're not exactly discreet, are you?"

Mark didn't say a word. I walked over to Jessica.

"Are you that desperate to take my place?"

Jessica's lip trembled, and she started to cry.

Mark stormed over, yanked me away from her, and slapped me across the face.

"I organized this party! I was the one who told Jessica to invite her friends! If you're angry, take it out on me!"

I stared at the man in front of me, this man who was so consumed with rage on behalf of another woman. I didn't recognize him.

One illness had shown me the true face of the man I slept next to every night.

Mark was furious. "You've ruined the whole mood."

He called the waiter over. "The check."

"That's it for tonight, everyone. I'll treat you all again some other time."

The waiter brought the bill. The total was over ten thousand dollars.

Mark paid it without batting an eye.

I burst out laughing.

No money to treat his dying wife, but plenty to lavish on his mistress.

Mark called a car service to take us home.

The moment we walked through the door, he said, "Chloe, let's get a divorce."

I paused. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Fine. Then let's talk about how we're going to divide our assets."

"We have twenty thousand in savings. We'll each take ten. The house and our son, they're both mine. You don't have a problem with that, do you?"

Rage surged through me. "Mark, we've been married for ten years. We should have at least three hundred thousand in savings. Now you're telling me there's only twenty thousand left? Are you kidding me?"

"And the house? You bought it with a mortgage. We've been paying it off together. Why should you get it? And our son, I'm fighting for him."

"There really is only twenty thousand left in savings. I forgot to tell you, I invested the rest in a small business venture. It all went bust."

"And the house, even though we were both paying the mortgage, the deed is in my parents' names. So it has nothing to do with you."

I slammed my hand on the table. "Mark! When we got married, you told me this was your house!"

"It is my house. Can't I put my house in my parents' names?"

"Fine. You want to play dirty? Then I'm not divorcing you. Let's see who outlasts who."

"Chloe! How long do you think you have left to live? If you don't divorce me, then I'll just wait for you to die!"

I scoffed. "Then let's wait. Let's see which one of us dies first."

Mark threw a teacup against the wall. "I must have been cursed to have married you!"

He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. This time, I didn't care where he went.

I immediately contacted a lawyer to discuss the divorce and asked her to investigate Mark's transfer of our marital assets, as well as how to win custody of our son.

Our eight-year-old son was terrified by our fighting. "Mommy, are you and Daddy going to get a divorce?" he asked, his voice trembling.

I pulled him into my arms. "Sweetheart, if Mommy and Daddy separate, will you hate me?"

He shook his head. "It's not your fault. It's because Daddy likes that other lady."

He took out the Polaroid camera I had bought him. "I took a picture of Daddy kissing her."