That was all. That was it.
I looked at the doctor, hoping for more. Why didn't she say more? That's all? I'm dying? No explanations?
I cleared my throat, rubbing the back of my head, "H-how? I feel perfectly fine." That's when my doctor started to explain, something about cancer. Cancer. I heard her, but I wasn't really listening. Not when she told me I had 3 months left, not about my treatment and all the chemotherapy. I cleared my throat again, and tried to remember what the past month had been like.
I've been tired, more so than usual. To top that, I've been having migraines, nose bleeds and blackouts. But how could I have cancer? At the age of 24? It seemed impossible. I started to ask again, but the doctor could see my denial and the way I was excessively trying to swallow and clear my throat, as if it would help the situation.
"Is there anybody who can come and take you?" She finally said, much to my relief, but it added to my anxiety. I was 24, I had no close friends, no family, no spouse. Nothing. "Jeff?" I snorted. The doctor must be kidding. There was no way I was calling him. "Unless you have someone better." I sighed deeply and shook my head quietly.
Half an hour passed as I sat in the waiting room in front of my doctor's office, waiting for the man. Jeff came, in his signature soft blue buttoned-down shirt and black slacks, meaning he came straight from his office.
"Jane?" I didn't look at him, just stood up and walked. I assumed he followed because I heard footsteps from behind and walked to the parking lot. He opened the door for me, and instead of rebelling like I always did, I took it and got inside his car. It smelled the same citric smell, the way I liked it. "Jane," he started again, "Ms. Grey told me everything. How are you feeling?" I simply shook my head, how are you supposed to feel when you have 3 months to live? When you have cancer? I started to get choked up, and Jeff left it at that. He drove in silence, took me home and didn't call for days on end. I was starting to think that he gave up on me. Maybe he was tired of me giving him the cold shoulder for years, that he was forced to be there for me because I was simply dying. Maybe that was it.
But he showed up again a few weeks later at one of my sessions.