Me, My Notebook & I

Chapter 08

           

"Cina?" I repeat confused while clutching my head and gritting my teeth because of the massive pain at the back of my head. When did Dr. Billy start with the nicknames and got so familiar with me? I don't hate it. It's nice that he's trying to remove the gap between doctor and patient to get me more comfortable.

Sau shifts in her seat, uncomfortable. Maybe she's just starting to dislike being in a psychiatrist's office? I never saw her this uncomfortable before. I should make it up to her when we get out of here.

Sau opens her mouth to speak but Dr. Billy beats her to it, shaking his head 'no' discreetly. I'm confused by the move but get distracted as soon he starts speaking. With his eyes open wider than usual and eyebrows raised, he says, "You! Cina... I was giving you a nickname. Is that okay?" He sounds flustered.

Rubbing the back of my head I mutter, barely keeping my tears at bay, "Yes, that's okay." And like a bird who saw her cage's door snap open and rushed towards her freedom, the flood gates opened and my tears ran wild. Apparently, the pain combined with the frustration I'm feeling turned me into a crybaby. I just want everything to go back to the way it used to be. No matter how boring and dull it was.

Sau stood up and came forward to hug me, mumbling 'it's okay. Everything's gonna be okay' over and over again. After I calmed down, she turned to Dr. Billy and asked hesitantly, "So, what now? Can you help her?"

I sniffle and raise my head to look at him, waiting for the answer. After a moment of silence and staring at each other, he takes a deep breath and replies, "Be strong, Lucina."

I brace myself for what's to come because it sounded like there's a lot of things on the tip of his tongue. Another minute passes and then... nothing. Is that it? That's why I came here? What does that even mean? 'Be strong?' That's it? Is that my treatment? Do I stand in front of a mirror and chant it to myself three times a day?

I reply without thinking, being unintentionally rude in the process, "And? I just told you everything that happened with that person and my memory issues. Tell me what to do."

Dr. Billy stood up from where he was sitting and sat on the table directly in front of us. He was silent for a moment, his mind appeared to be elsewhere as he was sucking on his lips. A paragraph I read online about explaining body language – a hobby of mine – jumped to my mind. He is reluctant in expressing certain thoughts. But what thoughts?

"Listen, Lucina... 20 years ago when I was about 24 or 25, I felt sick. I felt like there is something wrong with me but I didn't know what it was or how to deal with the pain that came with it. I didn't know whether to go get checked or was it simply exhaustion that'll go away with time. After the pain became too much, I decided to go get checked. A few blood tests later and I was diagnosed with renal cell carcinoma. That's a type of cancer that forms in the kidney."

Sau tenses around me and I look at him, eyes wide and worried, about to ask if he still has it or not. Before I can form the question, he carries on with his life story. "As it pains me to say this but I was about to give up on everything, my life included. I was just thinking that cancer is not a friendly visitor that will stay with me for a while and then leave. It's not like I had the flu. I thought it would stay with me till my life ends or at least until it ends me. I started immunotherapy and even though I wasn't a religious person, I prayed. God, I prayed. A small part of me though was waiting for cancer to take what it came for... my life. I didn't believe that little old me would win a fight against cancer."

He stops to take a breath and looking closely at him now, he appears much older that he actually is. A sound catches my attention and I turn around to find Sau silently crying next to me. At the taste of salt on my lips, I notice that tears have also fallen from my eyes for what the normally happy and bubbly doctor endured in his life. He shakes his head and proceeds, "Days go by and my health deteriorates and instead of going for immunotherapy once a month, it reached a point where I go every week."