The Day He Craved My Cornea

Synopsis

On our wedding anniversary, I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer. I called Owen Green, my husband, who was the head of surgery, but when the call connected, all I heard was a woman's nasal, breathless gasps. "Dr. Green, be gentle. The gauze is about to fall off." I clutched the diagnosis report, my fingers trembling so hard that my voice cracked. "Owen, I'm in pain. Can you come home?" Owen's voice was flat, like he was reading from a medical chart. "Hazel, you'll make up any excuse to get me home. Winnie scraped her hand, and now you're pretending to have a terminal illness to get attention? "If you really want to die, go do it somewhere else. Don't dirty up my place." Then he hung up. I looked at the blood I coughed up in the mirror. I didn't cry. I laughed instead. If he wanted to save Winnie Knight's eyesight so badly, I would let her. I signed the cornea donation form, naming Winnie as the recipient. The chief surgeon would be Owen. I hoped his hands were as steady tomorrow when he cut out my eyes.