She types up the diagnosis,

aggressive brain cancer,  people diagnosed with this can live up to two years with this- then she types the age of the patient,9.

It hits her. A nine year old who may not make it to 11.  A girl who won’t live to become a woman. Who won’t fall in love, have her heartbroken, who won’t leave her parents home to live, who won’t get a job, lose her job, hate her job or love her job.

She thinks of the parents-both screaming at each other and at God for who else can there be to blame when its noone’s fault? They have to tell the other children, they have to feel their feelings and communicate while trying to help their children, even the 9 year old understand what death and dying means. They have to prepare- organise the money, organise the funeral and think about continuing to live in the midst of all this.

She thinks about the friends and family who want to help, but don’t really know how. Who want to reassure the mother and the father that they can do this- though really no one should have to.

She also thinks about fate- she’s just a typist, doing her job but she wonders about tragedy and why she’s so lucky to never have had anything this bad happen in her own life. The parents must feel guilty for some of the disease traces back to them as much as they bought this child into the world- she has the disease that came with it.