usual, as if his skin shrank during the day before.
He was still a thirty five year old guy, good looking, dark eye brows and large shoulders of a sportiv man that doesn't think too much about his life, ambitious, and engaged in what he does, wether his job of brilliant marketer in the telco industry, used to algorythms and data, or his hobbies.
-"At four in the afternoon, we had taken a late brunch, and drank too much Rosé wine to be honest, we were nearly sleeping in armchairs, chatting and smoking. It was a beautiful day, not too hot, but sunny. We were under the trees, looking at the old building and thinking that the day we could sail. The nephews came back from the tennis courts nearby. They were with my latest boy Quentin. Quentin is physical. He could play rugby even if too young. He's got short hair. And big blue eyes. You must know, it's a beautiful kid, I don't say that for all my children, but people stop us in the street to mention it. I asked them when the girls came back, where is Quentin. They said we don't know. I asked them again, still smiling, hey girls, you're responsible of the four year kid, aren't you. They said he had disappeared, and there was a little argument, and they asked for water before going upstairs. Suddenly, I woke up. My little boy was not here, and the tennis courts were half a mile away. I asked one of the nephews to come back with me, and we came with two other adults to look for him."
The nurse looked at me as a patient. She had her head knocking down as expressing even more empathy if possible.
-"What followed was simply a nightmare. We looked at him, and there was nobody at the tennis courts, and we couldn't see him. We shouted. I lost my voice shouting his name. The worst came to my mind, somebody kidnapped him. My wife was crying and asking why we came here with so many people, family and friends, but not taking care of our own child. She was under shock. People took her by the shoulders. I had like no emotion except a unforgettable feeling of not having any power, being nothing, loosing all meaning of life. I was feeling so bad to have so many people around me and not being able to clear my mind, to decide something to do. All people were shouting now. The children were crying loudly, especially the girls that were with Quentin, when he disappeared. The chaos was in my life, like never before I had anticipated it could happen. I called the Gendarmerie. They came in twenty minutes, and began interviewing my wife and me. When it was my turn, they looked supsicious about my relationship with my little boy. It drove me crasy. I let them go, go back for the third time to the tennis courts. The neighbours came. They were at least seventy people in the garden, giving advice I could hear, looking at me as a victim of a terrible accident.
When my wife burst into tears again, I came near the old stones wall. Sixteenth century or something like that, and I began to struck the wall, as wanting to get rid of my fear, my unability to find any solution to find Quentin back, feeling so lonely and losing control of my life. The time my brother came with a friend to try to stop me, my arm was broken in three parts, and the same for my hand.
I didn't feel the pain. "
He whispered again. She was not moving. The hospital was full of people moving around them, under pressure, waiting with stress. They were in the present, quite and patient.
-" Then ?" did she ask.
- "Then Quentin reappeared around six. I was having people surrounding me, wanting me to go to the hospital. The gendarms were back again in the garden, talking with the neighboors. I was sitted near the white metal table with the broken arm in a white towel, with blood I was looking at, unable to think.
My wife was inside. Quentin said to me. " What did you do to your arm daddy." That was that. I cried during one hour as a child. I was a wreck. Quentin explained to us later he was angry when the girls left, and one of them has slapped his face after he threw his raquette at her face while playing. He came under the carpets, hidden to any people outside. When he heard people shouting his name, including us, he was scared by what he did, that the girls said he didn't behave as a good kid, then scared because he heared the fear in our voices."
She whispered like relieve. "So, happy end, then you came to the hospital."
-" No, I was so happy to have my family with me, and like my old life back, that I asked all people to leave the house and that we stayed together. That's why it's not in good shape and I must have surgery tomorrow, I know."
She said, smiling again. " I must go now, I have finished my work. The doctor will come for the surgery. I wish you…"
The was a silence.
- "A happy end of life, you too, merci beaucoup."
He was alone in the room for the first time. He looked at the window and thought it was not that clean. We could see finger tips, perhaps the ones of children visiting a brother having an accident with a motorbike, or the ones of grandchildren after an old grand father did his first heart attack. He was feeling nauseous. He took a chewing gum in his jean pocket with the left hand. It would be difficult to work during a few weeks, he couldn't drive either. And holidays would be a nightmare. Then he would have to reeducate his muscles.
It was nothing compared to the hatred he felt. An emotion that drove him crasy. If a guy had touched one hair of Quentin, he could have killed him for sure. He would have killed him.
He felt nothing would be like before. He had lost his eternal kid's look at life, taking it as it was, enjoying each moment, feeling safe, happy for ever.
Something dark had appeared at the surface. It was still him, but as never seen before. Something that made him feel fragile. No the powerful ambitious and successfull young top manager he was in his big company, the friend that people like to laugh with, share beers and good meals, the sportiv guy that people want in their team, as excellent performer, and reliable, the accomplished husband, the one smiling as an advertising for toothpasta, beautiful in his suit at his wedding, proud of his wife and fullfilled with life.
Anything could happen, anytime.
He didnt' know what to think. At the same time, he was like aware, and even more present in his own life, but missing the joy he had before. Forever gone.
Tuscany August 2015
The nest
My daughter can't live without us. Definitely, she feels lonely and feel bad for no reason. I don't understand, twenty years should be the best years in your life, you fly, everything is possible, you meet different people, you dream, you work hard and play hard, and she looks like a little bird lost without her parents.
I said to my wife, let's get rid of one of the parameters. For instance, I propose that she can come back home as many times as she wishes. Her training is in London, and we live in Paris and in week-end in the Chateau near Chantilly.
She said yes, and everyone was relieved. I don't know yet if she will use that right or not. Not that it matters, she knows she could.
I nearly lost my life in 2015. Leucemia. The diagnosis surprised me one year ago. I didn't noticed anything. My wife did, she thought I slept too much for someone used for years to sleep six hours.
It was August, I felt awkward when the doctor said I had to stop working in September. It's been nearly thirty five years I've been working, and I'm what people call a hard worker. Seven thirty in the morning to eight or eight thirty in the evening. And I read my mails on Sundays from six pm.
To share the news, I had nobody, as it was big vacations in France. You know, that month in the year, where Paris is a paradise as nobody except tourists, when you walk or drive, it's like a butter cut by something strong, you go fast, and you enjoy the views.
I've rediscovered recently the beauty of the Quai de Seine. It's amazing at night, believe me, I understand why Chinese and Japanese still love being tourists in Paris.
To come back to me, I had bad sleeps during nights, because doctors explain to you that you're sick and badly sick, that nobody can tell what will happen, and then they make you understand the protocole. A nightmare, and they describe it to you, no suprise.
I was so sick undergoing the chimio. I hated not to know what was going next. Then one day, a nurse
fucked my drain. Sorry to be nasty and vulgar. I must apologize.
The only way for me to focus of being a human being with projects and a future, was my work.
I doesn't work each time, I know that. One friend of a friend did purchase a house she never saw, to live with her three young children and her beloved husband. Another one did the merit review of her team end of December before being in the coma.
But for me, working hard on the strategy for 2020, the essentials to be different from our competitors, and continuing what I initiated with the Executive Comittee was vital.
I focused on new KPIs for customer experience, and how to measure we were transforming our business model, taking into account the digital in every touch points to interact with the customers.
I had a goal : avoid being defined by my family and my friends and my collegues as being a sick man. I know I have cancer, but I'm more than that. I want to defeat the sickness and overcome that difficult moment.
I was not prepared to being sick. Nobody is. You always think it happens to others. Well, it doesn't.
The first weeks, I was vomiting all nights and days. Then I recovered, I read so many books that I had a headache. I saw all series. Breaking bad with this sick teacher doing drugs to earn money and changing over time. The