Once Upon A Pink Suitcase|✔️

Chapter Five:

My hands are sweating and I am shaking. What happens if she can't fight this battle? What do I become then?

I become a failure. I didn't realize she was hurting. I failed Owen. I failed Dad. I failed Abigail.

"Hello." Dr. Jacob says, shutting the door behind him. "Let's talk about Abigail's progress, shall we?" He pops open the screen on his shiny computer. "She has made small, but steady progress with the chemo, but I think it would be best to have a stem cell transplant. Results of those transplants are very positive, increasing the rate at which the tumor decreases." He rambles on and on breaking it down for Abigail, which I appreciate. This is scary and the more she understands the better.
"I can schedule an appointment for three weeks from now. We will continue chemo until then." With some clicks on his keyboard it's all set and done. Dr. Jacob draws blood from Abigail, and goes off to the lab. Then a nurse comes in weighing her, height, and other typically check up things.

"You need some more food in you missy!" the nurse says, making Abigail giggle when she pokes her stomach. Then looking over at me she says "you can't just lose weight, then how will you be big and strong!" I know that remark was to make me insure she eats more. The nurse moves out of the way so I can see the number without actually asking.

"Wow..." I mutter to myself. It's almost a five pound decrease. While to a normal adult it may not be a lot, it is for a little girl who is already short and very skinny. Especially considering that girl has cancer.

I never pushed Abigail to eat more because I just thought she was full. But maybe it's not eating more at once but more often.

Either way, I knew she can't get out of this one.

"Thank you very much" I exclaim. Then I lead Abigail and I out of the room.

"We will call you with the blood results!" she chirps over her shoulder. "Enjoy the announcements!" I give her a halfhearted smile, and she responds with an empathetic one.

We walk hand in hand down the hallway in silence. I wanted to say something, but what can I say? I am sorry you need a transplant?You will be okay?

Because I can't promise her she will be okay. I can't break a promise, if she decides she can't fight.

Abigail needs to know it's okay to let go, if she is in pain I can't be the one to force her to stay. She can't see me like that.

We wait in the brisk spring air, it may be sunny but certainly not warm. I look at Abigail, she is still holding my hand. Her long strawberry blond hair flutters in the wind, making it visa le how thin it is. She looks out into the road, with no expression on her face. Her small floral romper she is wearing flutters around. She scrunched her nose, causing her black sweater to bounce up along with her shoulders. Abigail draws circles in the dirt in her black flats.My long sleeved black shirt crinkles in the wind, I look pretty bland seeing I just got back from work. Black shirt, skinny jeans, black sneakers, hair pulled back in a messy blond bun. I stare at the ground waiting for Owen. My eyes cloud up, but I force myself not to cry.

So I don't.