Clarification: Sara was not a cheerleader, she just looked like one. Tall, blonde haired blue eyed ensemble.
Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson. If I did, The Blood of Olympus would be out already *ahem, ahem, Rick Riordan*.
Enjoy!
Sitting in Dr. Semmel's office, Percy waited. The feeling in his stomach was something he was already used to. Butterflies, owls, pterodactyls, whatever.
Percy had never met Dr. Semmel. He was one of Dr. Maddox's classmates from Harvard, although they had gone to different medical schools. When Percy thought of Dr. Semmel, he pictured a tall, dark man, vaguely Italian, and very buff. He had no idea why. Semmel didn't sound even vaguely Italian, but hey- Percy could think what he wanted.
He fingered his thick brown notebook. It was one of the cheap spiral ones, but it had a lot of pages and was smaller than the conventional spiral notebook. He had bought it for three bucks at the Staples on Broadway.
He cracked it open and felt the urge to write in it- that urge one gets when one opens a notebook for the first time and sees that great expanse of white crossed with horizontal lines of cobalt. He fumbled for his pen and came up with an inky dark blue one. He wrote the date.
A nurse led him through the labyrinth of hallways as he struggled to remember everything. Left, right, right, left, room- wait, what room was that?
Yeah, right. He'd totally remember that.
He sat down in the maroon office chair and felt his brain explode. Dr. Semmel's room was a mess. Collages by kindergarteners and diplomas hung crooked on the walls, books were piled haphazardly around the room, anywhere but on the bookcase. A can of fingerpaints rested on the windowsill overlooking Manhattan.
A picture perched precariously on the desk, a man, a woman, and two young kids. The man was black-haired and wore glasses. His wife had dark blue eyes and long dark hair reaching down to her lower back. The kids were three and four, maybe?
The door banged open and a woman burst into the room. She didn't even notice Percy as she started straightening up her desk. A book fell near Percy's feet and he picked it up, handing it to her.
She started. "Oh!" she breathed. "I thought- well- I- you must be Percy Jackson," she stammered. "I thought you wouldn't be here yet, my daughter came yesterday, she wrecked the place, I hadn't had a chance to clean up yet, and I thought-"
She cut herself off as the picture slipped off of her desk and landed face up near Percy. He looked at the picture and then up into the face of the woman. Dark hair- check. Dark blue eyes- check. Dr. Semmel- check.
So much for the Italian dude he had pictured.
"I'm Dr. Semmel," she said apologetically. "Would you mind giving me a few minutes? I can think in here, but your file from Dr. Maddox said you were ADHD, and it doesn't look like you can think."
Percy grinned. "Yeah… thanks." This friendly woman had put Percy's pterodactyls at ease.
Dr. Semmel began straightening up, fixing books, putting paints in a cabinet, putting files in their folders, cleaning out a plant that was harboring some plastic rhinestones. Percy watched this woman who, in sharp contrast to her office, was tall and willowy, with graceful movements. She looked out of place with the happy furniture around her. She would have looked more at ease in a room of stainless steel and chrome.
"I know what you're thinking," she said, her back to Percy, aligning two side-by-side pictures. Her long braid quivered as she reached to retape a collage way above her head. "You think I don't belong in this room, because I'm so tall and flexible and whatnot. I know what I look like," she continued, turning around and fixing Percy with her dark blue eyes. "I think you'll eventually find that I am a happy person, the kind who hangs her daughter's collages on the walls and lets her son make perpetual messes of her desk."
"I was thinking that you belonged in a skyscraper in Manhattan," Percy confessed. "But I don't judge people by their height. Or their looks. Or their choices of decoration." He smiled.
The doctor smiled back. "I'll be done in a sec," she said, tying the white curtains back neatly with a black ribbon. She sat down at her desk and scooted her chair forward. "Down to the fairly unpleasant business, I'm afraid," she said. "I'm Dr. Semmel, I'm an oncologist, and I know Dr. Maddox from medical school. You…" she trailed off.
"I have cancer," Percy said, feeling one of the pterodactyls return. "And you don't have to feel awkward about it, or candy-coat anything, and I would like to know everything you can tell me."
"Do you know what cancer is?" Dr. Semmel asked. Percy shook his head. "Well, let's start at the beginning. Cancer is a genetic disorder. Something went wrong on your DNA. No one really knows what causes cancer, only some assorted facts- smoking will get you lung cancer, if someone in your family had it you're likely to get it too, but really, we know nothing concrete.
"Osteosarcoma is a cancer of the bone. You have a mass in your upper arm, your humerus. Yes, we'll probably have to go in there and remove some of it, at least. Yes, you will need chemo. But we have to do some tests to know about radiation. At the end of today I'm going to give you a guide explaining everything I told you about today, but not about the actual cancer. So whatever I explain about chemo and drugs and whatnot, you don't have to write down."
Percy nodded and began taking notes.
An hour later, Percy and the doctor were both standing. They had covered everything about everything. Percy had about six dozen tests scheduled, payment sorted out, advice given and pterodactyls put at ease. Percy was feeling particularly grateful to this woman he had met an hour earlier who seemed like the person he would want helping him through this.
"Thank you," he said, and he meant it.
The woman grinned at him. "Of course. Oh- and Percy?" she said, as Percy paused, halfway out the door. He twisted a little to look back at her and she said, "Whatever you do, don't read anything off of the Internet. Seriously."
Percy smiled and left the room.
You should be really proud of Vovo. Vovo worked for about an hour straight when she should have been writing an essay on Louisa May Alcott for school. She wanted everything to be nice and long for her loyal, beloved readers. So Vovo worked on this chapter, dodging her mother who knew what Vovo was doing and also what Vovo should have been doing. And the result is a chapter that is 1,055 words long, which is the longest Vovo's ever written. Also, it was three pages long. Vovo is prouder of that than she is of anything else.
Guest Review Responses:
Sabrina Alejo- De todos modos, me alegra que te guste mi historia. ¿Te importa si te pregunto qué edad tienes? Yo sólo quiero tener una idea general del grupo de edad para el que estoy escribiendo...
A- Thank you!
YourFavGuest- I felt so bad doing it to him… Thanks!
Vovo hopes you enjoyed, and will see ya next time!