Before I go (On Hold)

Before I go

“What? How can she take the news too well?” My dad asked, confused.

“Well… I think she might be in some kind of… denial. If I may call it so.” The doctor replied. A denial? No, I totally understood the fact that I was going to die in two years.

“A denial? But, shouldn’t it be a good that she is taking this so well?” Even my mum was confused now. My sister, as she usually does in awkward and embarrassing situations; or when she was nervous or confused, started giggling silently.

“What. The. Hell. Shouldn’t they be happy I’m taking it so well? I should have just started crying my eyes out. Huh, doctors are never happy. And stop laughing, you.” I whispered to my laughing sister. My big sister can be so immature.

“Yeah well, like you said, docs are never happy.” She can be of great help, but sometimes she just isn’t.

“No; we think she is taking too well. I think I should contact councillors to come have a word with her.” He said.

“Councillors? No, I do not that shall be necessary. She probably hasn’t digested the news properly yet, it’s all right.”

What? Councillors? I’m not crazy or mad; and I have no problems controlling my emotions or telling others how I am feeling. I don’t think councillors are necessary either.

Hope started giggling again.

“I do think the use of councillors would help her greatly. We shall try one session and see the effect it has on her.” The doctor would not budge.

“Er…” Neither my mum nor dad knew what to say. So, as usual, my dad just ‘erred’.

“Ok…only one session.” My mum said, unconvinced. What? She had agreed to it? I could not believe this.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” The doctor said seeming pleased, as if my parents had just been bargaining over some kind of merchandise.

I could hear the doctor moving about.

“Quick!” I whispered and we tiptoed to the waiting room and sat down on the blue puffy chairs. I grabbed a magazine from the glass coffee table and Hope went to fill herself cup of water.

“You can come in.” The doctor came to retrieve us from the stuffy waiting room.

I jumped from my seat, wanting to hear the version he would tell me. Would he actually tell me he thought I was taking it too well or would he just say that I needed some kind of help?

“Well, that ought to be interesting.” Hope said. Seriously, I just found out I had cancer, and this is the way she talks to me? She should be crying her eyes out and hugging me. Actually, I guess I am glad that was the way she behaved, all I needed now was pity; I’m sure I’ll get enough pity at college. I love her so much. Always will.

“Hah ha.” I gave her our favourite fake laugh.

I sat down on the squishiest chair. My parent sat on two other chairs and Hope just lingered around like a shadow with bright green eyes.

“So… I think you are taking the news slightly too well and I think you might need some kind of… help.” The doctor said, struggling for words. Ah, so he went for both. Interesting. Well, not really, actually.

“Some kind of help? What kind of help?” I asked, seeming intrigued.

“Well, we think you might need to see a councillor.” He said slightly nervously.

“A councillor? What for?” I tried to sound like it was the first time I heard about his crazy idea; but I don’t think it all sounded very genuine. Don’t tell me he’ll say I’m taking this too well.

“Well, you seem to take the news too well, and I think a councillor might help. I think you might be in denial.” He said ‘well’ a lot.

“Really? Well I don’t. I don’t need a councillor, for God’s sake! I could just speak to anyone that looks and acts like they’re listening and you could call it ‘going to see a councillor’. No, I don’t care, I am not going.”

“Faith dear, I think you should just try out one session. Just see if it helps, ok? If it doesn’t, we’ll stop the sessions straight away.” My mum talked kindly and tried to convince. In vain.

“Help what, exactly?”  I asked viciously.

“Er… your ‘denial’.” My dad tried to come to my mum’s rescue. I knew they only meant well but… I know this won’t help, because there’s nothing to help; but I’ll just go. They only mean well; and I might as well just please them, even if I have to go to some stupid useless councillor. For one session only. Then I’ll tell them that it didn’t help, obviously.

But I would not make it easy for that stupid councillor.