(Pony)
I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry, whatever he says, I'm not going to cry..........
"I'll be honest," the doctor said calmly, and my heart sank as he pulled the new set of x-rays from their folder and held them up for us to see.
There were the tumors (I remembered the first time I'd seen them, confused as to what they were and what they meant. I never suspected this; certainly never suspected all the pain. But what do they mean now?).
"Notice any change?" the doctor asked. I wanted to punch him. All he was doing was dragging this out and scaring us more.
"No," I whispered.
"Well, there is one."
The three of us started.
"Is that good?" Soda asked eagerly. But Darry had seen something Soda hadn't; he suddenly went stiff and held his breath.
"No," the doctor murmured, his tone softening. "They've grown. There are also spots on some other organs, but they won't have time to advance."
"What do you mean?" It was hard to speak. There was a gigantic lump in my throat I was fighting over.
Darry put an arm over my shoulders and squeezed hard.
"I mean you have about a month, Ponyboy. I'm sorry."
"No........" Soda gasped, "no, you said there were other things we could try, you can't mean.........."
"Boys, I told you from the start that it was unlikely that we could save him. You tried. You put up a good fight and you did what little you could do. But I don't think he ever had a chance. I hoped maybe it would turn around. But it's not."
"But.......isn't there ANY hope?" Soda wailed. The doctor looked at him sympathetically.
"None." He turned to me. "A month at most," he said softly. "You can decide where you want to spend it. You'll have to come here eventually, because you'll need oxygen to breathe. And you'll eventually be bed-ridden. I'll prescribe you pain medication. Once the chemo's all out of your system you should be able to eat again." He stopped, and, for the first time, really looked at me and my brothers. "Why don't I give you a few minutes alone," he finally said softly.
"We'd appreciate it," Darry nearly whispered. Soda was white. I just lowered my head and stared at the sweat that had risen in the crevices of my palms.
I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry.................
I want Mom and Dad, I thought acheingly, I need them here, I want my Mom to hold me and rock me like she did when I was little, I want Dad to say just the right thing, like he always did, I wanted them to tell me how to do this. I was sweating and shaking and wiping vainly at the tears I just couldn't stop.
This time next month I might not be here, I realized, I'll be gone and Darry and Soda will be burying me or getting ready to. I remembered Soda telling me that they wouldn't let me go through this alone; but they had to. They couldn't leave with me.
"Pony," Darry murmured, his arm still around me. "I'm sorry............"
I heard something I never had before in my oldest brother's voice: I heard despair. I closed my eyes tight, repeating my chant over and over: I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry.................but the tears came anyway.
There's no hope, I thought as Darry moved to hold me and I buried my face in his shoulder.
None.
I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry, whatever he says, I'm not going to cry..........
"I'll be honest," the doctor said calmly, and my heart sank as he pulled the new set of x-rays from their folder and held them up for us to see.
There were the tumors (I remembered the first time I'd seen them, confused as to what they were and what they meant. I never suspected this; certainly never suspected all the pain. But what do they mean now?).
"Notice any change?" the doctor asked. I wanted to punch him. All he was doing was dragging this out and scaring us more.
"No," I whispered.
"Well, there is one."
The three of us started.
"Is that good?" Soda asked eagerly. But Darry had seen something Soda hadn't; he suddenly went stiff and held his breath.
"No," the doctor murmured, his tone softening. "They've grown. There are also spots on some other organs, but they won't have time to advance."
"What do you mean?" It was hard to speak. There was a gigantic lump in my throat I was fighting over.
Darry put an arm over my shoulders and squeezed hard.
"I mean you have about a month, Ponyboy. I'm sorry."
"No........" Soda gasped, "no, you said there were other things we could try, you can't mean.........."
"Boys, I told you from the start that it was unlikely that we could save him. You tried. You put up a good fight and you did what little you could do. But I don't think he ever had a chance. I hoped maybe it would turn around. But it's not."
"But.......isn't there ANY hope?" Soda wailed. The doctor looked at him sympathetically.
"None." He turned to me. "A month at most," he said softly. "You can decide where you want to spend it. You'll have to come here eventually, because you'll need oxygen to breathe. And you'll eventually be bed-ridden. I'll prescribe you pain medication. Once the chemo's all out of your system you should be able to eat again." He stopped, and, for the first time, really looked at me and my brothers. "Why don't I give you a few minutes alone," he finally said softly.
"We'd appreciate it," Darry nearly whispered. Soda was white. I just lowered my head and stared at the sweat that had risen in the crevices of my palms.
I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry.................
I want Mom and Dad, I thought acheingly, I need them here, I want my Mom to hold me and rock me like she did when I was little, I want Dad to say just the right thing, like he always did, I wanted them to tell me how to do this. I was sweating and shaking and wiping vainly at the tears I just couldn't stop.
This time next month I might not be here, I realized, I'll be gone and Darry and Soda will be burying me or getting ready to. I remembered Soda telling me that they wouldn't let me go through this alone; but they had to. They couldn't leave with me.
"Pony," Darry murmured, his arm still around me. "I'm sorry............"
I heard something I never had before in my oldest brother's voice: I heard despair. I closed my eyes tight, repeating my chant over and over: I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry.................but the tears came anyway.
There's no hope, I thought as Darry moved to hold me and I buried my face in his shoulder.
None.