Before We Say Goodbye

Chapter Seventeen: Things I'll Never Say

Chapter Seventeen - Sophie

“Right, we have some very good news, Sophie!” the nurse says, beaming.

I glance at Dad, radiating hope. “Really?” I ask.

“Yes! We’ve found a bone marrow match, so we can put the chemo on hold!”

I squeal in excitement. I get to keep my hair!!!

“Did you hear that, Dad?” I say, laughing and hugging Dad. “I don’t have to lose all my hair!”

Dad laughs, his chest rumbling. “I heard, Soph! Calm down!”

We turn back to the nurse, waiting for more information.

“So, right now, we can’t really do anything except suggest you don’t go out and about too much, at least not on your own. We’ll ring you up when we have more information, and detail, et cetera, and until then, thank your lucky stars, eh? So, have you any questions?”

I bite my lip. I have a question. It’s the question that has been on my lips since I found out I had cancer.

“Will…will I definitely survive if I get the transplant, or is there still a chance of dying?” I ask quietly.

The nurse’s face falls. “Oh, sweetie,” she says, her face crumpling up in sorrow. “I’m so sorry, but there’ll always be a chance of dying. But you have quite a high chance of surviving this, now. If the transplant fails, we can re-consider chemotherapy, and there are one or two other options, too. Have you got any other questions, at all?”

I glance at Dad. He shakes his head, and I copy him. “No, thanks,” I reply.

“Alright.” The nurse is smiling again. Well, she isn’t suffering from a life threatening illness – of course she’s smiling. “If you come up with any questions when you get home, there are absolutely tonnes of cancer support websites. Cancer Research, for example. Or you could book an appointment with us, or your GP, and get asking.”

We thank her and leave.

*

“Have you called Gramps?” I ask, as Dad starts up the car.

“Yes,” he replies carefully.

“And?”

“And he has your mam’s contact details.”

My heart flutters. I knew he would! I knew it! I grin.

“But…” Dad trails off, scratching his chin.

My smile dims ever so slightly. “B-but what?” I say.

“Well, it’s hard to explain.”

I grit my teeth. “Just say it, Dad. I can handle it.”

Dad nods slowly. “Right. Like a plaster,” he mutters to himself. “The thing is, she doesn’twanttoseeyou.”

I hardly hear the last little bit, he says it so fast. I think I know what he said…but he can’t have said what I thought he said because that’s just – no way.

“I’m sorry,” I reply, “I didn’t catch that.”

“She. Doesn’t. Want. To. See. You,” he mumbles, exaggerating the slowness.

My blood runs cold, my heart plummets.

“Why?” I whisper.

“Because she’s scared, I think,” Dad replies softly.