09.06.18

AC
AC
Sep 7, 2018 · 1 min read

“Why are you scared, Y?”

“Porque dijo que yo voy a morir.” Because you said I’m going to die.

“That’s just a fact of life, Y. We all have to know that we’re going to die.”

“Yo se, yo se.. pero todavía no es mi tiempo.” I know, I know.. but it’s not my time yet.

I’ve learned by now to keep my poker face, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like someone took my heart in their fist and twisted it at that very moment. It’s a numbers game now, and it isn’t promising. She is 12, there are 2 different treatments we can pursue, and likely 0 of them will work in the long run. “Está bien,” her mom repeats on the phone after we’ve explained everything, as if saying it enough times will somehow change the way it rings so hollow.

AC

Written by

AC

Wearer of 3x rolled-up scrub pants; slowly relinquishing my need to use all lowercase. [Views expressed are mine and do not represent those of my workplace]