“Fairly well.”
“Beading again eh?”
“Well, at least it keeps me alive and occupied.”
“You still sell them?”
Of course I sell them. That’s my vocation. As if I tell her, you visit patients eh? You change bandages? You wash up patients? You help doctors? Do you sleep with them? Both patients and doctors?
“Yeah. It’s my job, isn’t it?”
“Of course.”
But what Cameron did not want to tell her is the sheer coincidence that after finishing every beading project, she would return to the hospital for a more excruciating treatment. More vomiting, more headache, more painful monsters eating every part of her body, and more sleepless nights and days. As if that is not enough, Cameron lost every ounce of appetite and could not even carry herself after that, yet a needle.
0 comments:
Post a Comment