Watch You Cry
O O 3
The first thing I thought was, 'Okay, so I'm sick. It'll be gone within the next few days.'
"'Fraid not." Was what 'Doc' had said when I voiced my opinion.
My mind seemed to wander helplessly as the man with the grey hair in the white coat talked on and on about me and the papers scattered in front of him.
When my mother let out a small whimper, I knew I should have been listening. Two sets of eyes were on me, like they were waiting for something.
"Pardon?" I had said.
My mother whimpered again and 'Doc' sighed, looking down.
I waiting patiently for one of them to repeat what had been said, but what was probably seconds felt like minutes running into hours. The clock was still stuck at eleven-fourteen and my mother had began studying my face again, though this time it was in a different way.
I looked directly into her eyes, waiting.
"Declan," 'Doc' began. "We've estimated that with your... Sickness," That part I remember clearly, the way he paused to say 'sickness'. Like he wasn't so sure.
"You'll be lucky to see twenty."
At the repetition of these words, my mother finally burst into tears. I remember how I placed a hand on her forearm, trying to comfort her, but her tears never stopped.
On the drive home, at dinner that night, the next morning. She just continued to cry. And I would be there, with my small hand on her shaking forearm, trying to make it okay.
"'Fraid not." Was what 'Doc' had said when I voiced my opinion.
My mind seemed to wander helplessly as the man with the grey hair in the white coat talked on and on about me and the papers scattered in front of him.
When my mother let out a small whimper, I knew I should have been listening. Two sets of eyes were on me, like they were waiting for something.
"Pardon?" I had said.
My mother whimpered again and 'Doc' sighed, looking down.
I waiting patiently for one of them to repeat what had been said, but what was probably seconds felt like minutes running into hours. The clock was still stuck at eleven-fourteen and my mother had began studying my face again, though this time it was in a different way.
I looked directly into her eyes, waiting.
"Declan," 'Doc' began. "We've estimated that with your... Sickness," That part I remember clearly, the way he paused to say 'sickness'. Like he wasn't so sure.
"You'll be lucky to see twenty."
At the repetition of these words, my mother finally burst into tears. I remember how I placed a hand on her forearm, trying to comfort her, but her tears never stopped.
On the drive home, at dinner that night, the next morning. She just continued to cry. And I would be there, with my small hand on her shaking forearm, trying to make it okay.
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It's ten in the morning and I need some coffee.Thankyou to these lovely people, Young And Reckless and f-lies for the comments that made me feel like updating so early.