I'm Scared of Heights | ONC 2023 ✔️

14) Sunburn on a Cloudy Day

Winn

It's quiet.

Dr. Thomas breathes in even increments, filling the stiff silence. "We should have your results in the morning. Your patience is appreciated," he says, wiping his greyish brow with the tip of his white coat. He clicks his pen in, sighing, deepening the wrinkles lining his weathered sard-colored forehead. "Winslow," he starts, gravely peering over his metal-rimmed glasses. "Winn," he corrects himself, "I've known you since you were a tot. Why didn't you come to me sooner?"

My heart bangs in my chest like drumsticks against a snare, already past the freeing feeling of sharing. Natalie's words echo in my mind. Screw your doctor. You need to help yourself! We were at the ER entrance. I was panicking. She was fuming. Less than ten minutes ago, I called Kenneth Thomas' personal number, something of the past. Only a reminder of who used to be alive.

Of course, he immediately took me back.

"The appointment is on Tuesday. I could've waited until then." I shrug again. That's right, I could've waited. I have to be okay. All of this is going to go away like last time.

But what if it doesn't?

Dr. Thomas slams his clipboard against the stationary. "Winn, do you realize how serious this is? Your case is identical to your grandmother's! Melanoma started on Polly's lower extremities, spread to her lymph nodes, metastasized, and diffused to her lungs and brain." His voice cracks, and he rubs his eyes, blinking rapidly. "You know this, Winn."

"Mother like daughter. Mother like son." I manage a light chuckle. The action lightens the weight of my chest. I've always heard laughter raises all the right "happy" chemicals. Maybe Natalie would be able to answer that question fully.

"Let's quit with this doctor speak." I nod numbly, muting the crescendo building in my mind. Dr. Thomas, my "honorary grandfather", as Gran promoted him, was there for the funeral, both funerals. He was there to wave off people who wanted to "comfort" us. He was there, always there, for us, for Gran, and for all his patients. "I sincerely care about you. Please, for the love of God, tell me if you have any more pain, problems, or concerns."

Swallowing a large lump in the back of my throat, I find myself nodding. "Yeah, will do. Thanks," I mumble, pulling the sleeves of my flannel down past my elbows. "I guess I'll see you on Tuesday then."

"No," Dr. Thomas grunts, "Whether you like it or not, I'm putting in a full workup tonight and moving your appointment to Monday." The lenses of his glasses glint under the fluorescent hospital light, adding another touch to his already intense demeanor.

I nod. Well, there goes no disrupting the peace. Not like I didn't get shoved into both of those scanner things. "I'll be there... Can I get in after school hours? I have to tutor some students."

He lowers his gaze, pressing his lips into a thin line. "You know what I think about your activity. Take it easy, and don't elevate yourself on stress." The stubble on his chin twitches upwards, and his gaze shifts to my leg. Is he thinking of the spot? The reason why I first came to his oncology wing. The story is ridiculous. Positively ridiculous.

Who in their right mind thinks cancer is some lousy infection that can be drained by a dermatologist?

Me, that's who.

Or maybe that's a look of disapproval. After all, Kenneth hates that I'm not slowing down. I don't know what I'd do with myself if I stopped.

I allow a chuckle to pass through my lips. "I'm great. Don't worry about me. I'm living my best life doc."

Dr. Thomas' lips curve, and he tilts his head to the side. The grey tips of his short beard stick out to the side, momentarily directly my attention to the wooden door. Wait. Can hair point? "I wouldn't expect anything else from Polly's grandkid."