“I know this isn’t a normal request. I know you’re my doctor. And I’m not asking because I think you’re secretly in love with me.”
“Then why me?”
“Because you listen to me.”
I looked up.
“Because when I say something matters to me, you don’t immediately tell me I’m too young to understand. You explain things. You answer my questions. You treat me like I’m still a person, not just a disease that’s getting worse.”
She swallowed.
“Everybody keeps making decisions around me. Doctors decide what medicine I get. My family decides what I should be strong enough to handle. People visit and tell me what a fighter I am, even when I’m too tired to lift my head.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I want one big thing to be my choice.”
I felt a painful pressure in my chest.
I understood what she meant. I could see the longing behind her request, and I wanted to give her something that the illness had not taken away.
