Fight Back

Date: 3rd November 2014. Weight: 8st. Stage: Four. Estimated time of survival: Four and a half months.

I walked through the hospital corridor. I stopped outside of Phil's room and pushed the door open. Phil was reading my files on the examination bed. I pushed open the door and he looked up. Then I sat next to him and curled my legs up by my chest.
“Are you ever on time?” Phil joked.
“I didn't want to run.”
“Why not?” he questioned.
“I might exert myself." I said and tried not to laugh. He looked to me and shook his head.
“You use my words against me.” he muttered.
"I hate coming here." I grumbled. "It's too sterile."
"Imagine how I feel," Phil replied lightly. “Now, tell me about the sickness."
“I was in history with Mike-”
“-Mike.” Phil repeated.
“Yes, Mike. Anyway, then I started feeling sick. I ran to the bathroom."
“Was there any blood?”
“I don't think so. I think it was mainly acid because my throat hurt after.” I said and Phil started to write on my notes.
“Anything else?”
“I've lost weight. Its all happened really quick."
“Is it at the point where you can physically see the weight loss, or just on the scales?”
“I can see it, on my ribs." I explained and he nodded.
“Pop on the scales for me.” Phil said and I did as told. He looked down and noted my weight, I had lost so much this week. “Are you okay?” he asked once I sat down.
“Alex was never sick.” I sighed.
“You're not Alex," he said and I looked away. He took my face between his thumb and forefinger and forced me to look at him. “You're not your brother, Pippa. You're you and you need to stop trying to live up to Alex."
“That's quite funny in a sick way,” I muttered and laughed. “Seeing he's dead and everything. Ironic.”
“I suppose it is." Phil replied and looked down to my notes.
Phil took my height, blood tests and all the other routine check ups. He said that I was doing well considering everything I was going through and that he was proud of me. That made me really smile, no one had told me that for a long time. I guess that's sad, my own parents don't say that but my nurse does. He also said that blood transfusions wouldn't do much good, putting platelets into my body could cause my white blood cells to attack all my platelets and reduce the count further.
“You're going out tomorrow?” Phil asked just as I was leaving.
“Yeah, with Hope.” Now I really would have to go with her.
“I didn't know you were still close?”
“She's the one person I still class as a friend,” I said dryly and he nodded knowledgeably. "Apart from you."
“Will you tell her?” Phil asked seriously.
“Tell her what?”
“About the Infirma."
“What?!”
“Will you?”
“What a lovely chat,” I mocked. “Nice to talk to you again Hope, by the way I have Infirma – a rare disorder of the blood – and I only have four months left to live. Where shall we go for lunch.”
“It won't be like that."
“Like hell it won't.” I snapped.
“You have to tell people at some point, they'll know eventually."
“Yeah, at my funeral."
“I could help you." Phil offered.
“I don't need your help . . . because I'm not going to tell anyone.” I said and pulled at my hair.
“Pippa." he tried and I rolled my eyes.
“You can't make me do anything, and there's no way I'm telling any of the idiots at school." I growled and turned away from him. I headed to open the door and hurried out.
“Pippa!" I heard Phil shout. But I ignored him, I just wanted to put distance between us.

Notes

Hey! What did you think? I'm updating again tonight, but it's only a little one. What do you want to happen? Will Helena tell anyone? Does Helena like Mike? Does he like her? :)