Worth the Wait...

Why am I going to pick this girl up? She’s always been so nasty to me! Always telling me my clothes are bad, I need to wear makeup. You're fat, you're ugly...but I'm also the only one who ever shows up to help her...

Why do I keep doing this?

My conscious tells me, “You’re doing it because you don’t want anyone to feel alone. You know the feeling, and wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

Dammit, conscious…you’re right again.

I know she's going to be nasty to me, but she needs someone with her right now. Even if she won't admit it.

I pick her up...she's got her best clothes on, high heels, fancy bag...she looks like she's going to some kind of gala! But being very protective of her bag. She gets in telling me how bad I look. I should wear better clothes, wear makeup. I ignore it.

The ride to the doctor’s office is pretty quiet. She’s texting everyone. But not talking to the only person who was willing to go with her to the office. I guess I’m okay with that; anything she would say would just be mean, anyway.

We arrive and she checks in…the nurse has trouble finding her chart. 

“You people are SO incompetent…do you realize what I’m dealing with right now? I don’t need this!”

I go grab her arm and lead her to a chair in the waiting room…giving an “I’m sorry” glance to the nurses.

I ask her, “Are you worried?”

“Worried about what?”, she replies, “The incompetence of the staff? Yeah!”

I reply, “You need to take it down a notch. These people see heartache on a daily basis. They are just here to help you.” That kept her quiet for about 5 minutes.

“What are you going to do if they come in and tell you what you don’t want to hear?”

“I have money,” she replied, “I can buy anything.”

“Steve Jobs was one of the richest in the world, it didn’t save him.”

Money has never saved anyone. It's sad, people work to live, but money can't actually save them.

"You have to consider family, and how are you going to tell them?"

"My family doesn't give a shit about me, only my money. They would be happy to see me go. And when I go, it will be a blaze of glory!" She grapples with her bag more and more, hiding it from my view.

Me: "But what do YOU care about?"

"I care about me...I'm the only one that matters in this world!"

Silence

Silence

Silence

“Do you think I’m a mean person?” she asked.

“Do you want an honest answer, or do you want me to give you the answer you want to hear?”

“Honest answer.”

“I think you’re a bitch…you are not nice at all. You had to go through several “friends” on facebook to get to me to pick you up for this appointment. I picked you up because I don’t want people to feel alone, and you haven’t been nice to me in the hour that I’ve been with you.”

She sat and stared at me awhile before responding. She kept rustling around in her bag, which made me nervous. So I asked, "What are you thinking?" She replied with an angry response...

“How can you talk to me like that? I’m waiting on a very scary diagnosis!”

"You judge people based on clothing, makeup...do you even know who that person is on a daily basis?"

"I'm suffering right now, and scared!"

“I understand that, but you asked me for an honest answer. So, how are you going to respond with a positive or negative diagnosis?”

She kept weirdly holding her bag...very close to her chest.

"I can hold your bag when you go talk to the doctor."

"NO!" she screamed. "I'm holding onto my bag."

"NO! I'm not an invalid...I can hold my own bag, asshole!"

Again...why did I agree to bring her here? Oh yeah, conscious..."You have to be the better person!" Smile and nod...you'll get through this.

“I’m going to be fine. It will come back negative.”

“But do you feel good about how you treat people?”

“I guess not. I’m a bit abrasive, I could be nicer. I guess if they come back with a positive, I’m going to be really scared. I haven’t been very nice to most people.”

"You don't have to always admit to your short-comings just to admit that some other people may be better at stuff..."

Before she could respond, the nurse came out and called us into the office.

“Good news,” she said, “It looks like your results are all negative! You’re going to be ok.”

She looked at me and said, “I told you, I’m untouchable! I’m going to call an Uber. See ya, bitches!”

I looked at the nurse and said, “I really thought she would change her ways after getting a diagnosis of cancer-free…but I think it just created a bigger monster!” 

“Oh, honey…people react in a lot of different ways when they get diagnosed either positive or negative. You just have to roll with it!”

“But she is such a mean, nasty person…I was hoping that this would change her. She feels like she’s entitled to every thing, and that money can buy her whatever she wants!”

“We can give the physical diagnosis of someone, but we can’t change what’s inside.”

I thanked her and left. As I was going down the elevator, I was going over the day in my mind. This mean, nasty person received a negative diagnosis. I’m happy, no one should have to suffer.

As I walk out the main entrance, I see police cars, firetrucks, EMTs…

I see her laying in a pool of blood…holding a gun…

Apparently, after she received the negative diagnosis, she really thought she was untouchable. She ran outside the building, wielding a gun, screaming “I’m untouchable!”. Law enforcement didn’t see it that way. I’ll be attending a funeral next week.