A Wigwam for a Goose's Bridle

One-sided introduction.

I’m a student. May I

ask you some questions,

take a history? I need

to practise.

Sure. Have you seen him?

My doctor? Did he tell you?

I don’t know your doctor.

Familiar name, but we haven’t met.

Why did you come to hospital?

Oh, so you haven’t seen him.

I haven’t either. Not today.

I have questions.

About your treatment?

I have a cat. Perceptive creatures.

Will he know?

Some eye contact. Brief.

I notice suddenly the tissue

in her lap. Her hands folding it,

unfolding it, twisting it,

making it straight. It makes me

uncomfortable, her fidgeting.

Will he know what?

Didn’t they tell you? I have

cancer. I have questions.

I’m sorry.

And I really am.

When were you diagnosed?

That depends on what day it is today.

You won’t tell my children, will you?

No, no, of course not.

Not my place.

Silence. Her rocking,

fiddling with the tissue.

Me, thoughts racing:

Should I still try to take my history?

Maybe I should go. Is it okay

to leave her like this?

I feel responsible. I stayed

too long already. I have become committed.

Why did you come to hospital?

Were you in pain?

My daughter’s pregnant.

Will I be a danger?

If they use X-rays I mean.

I feel trapped. My mind

is shutting down. I need

a panic button, the option

to call time out. I try

to think outside the square.

I realise I am scribbling

meaninglessly on my notepad.

I have a thought. I dismiss it.

It’s silly. Maybe worth a try though.

You have many questions,

and I’m not in a position to answer them –

Oh no. She’s started to cry.

This is not working. –

but I have a pen and paper. You could

tell me your questions. I can

write them down.

Then you will have them

to ask your doctor when he comes.

Prolonged eye contact.

Her hands, at last, are still.

We could do that?

You would do that?

Sure.

What will he do to me?

Will it work? Will I have

to lose my hair? I don’t want

to worry my family. Do I have to

tell them? Can somebody help me

to tell them? Will my cat

sense I’m sick? Will other people

be able to tell? Will my children

get what I got? Will I survive?

For how long? That’s all,

for now, I think.

Well I should go now. I have class.

Here’s your list. I hope it all goes well.

Thank you.

And she is smiling.