Around the Bend: Not Like Cynthia

"Yes," I said.

"I wish we could be friends forever," Cynthia went on. "I wish we could play together, and write letters to each other, and always be friends."

"That would be nice," I agreed.

She had to stop talking then. She shut her eyes and went to sleep. The nurse must have given her something to take the pain away.

I sat with you, Mum and Dad, all that afternoon, until Dad had to go back home and do something. Cynthia woke up a couple of times and tried to talk but we couldn't understand her. The doctors kept coming and doing tests. They took blood samples, and looked at her legs, and talked strange "doctor-words" to each other. It sounded like a foreign language to me.

And lots of Cynthia's friends kept arriving, with more cards and more flowers, and little presents which they put all over the dresser and shelves beside her bed. And worst of all, a man from the television station came and filmed her, but he couldn't ask her anything because she was still asleep. I thought "good!" when that happened, because I thought she was getting too much attention. Far too much.

Dad came back later in the evening and switched on the little television in the room, and we watched the news. When they came to the bit about Cynthia they said she was a "mystery patient," and that the "medical world" was shocked at what was happening to her, but that there was no cause for alarm because no infectious agent had been found. A very important-looking doctor also came on and said there was no cause for alarm, and that the problem was definitely not caused by some strange new disease because no virus or bacteria had been found in the blood tests. Even the police were dragged into it, but they declined to comment because there was no sign of foul play. That made me feel like laughing. No sign of foul play? Nobody knew how foul my playing had been!

Mum, you wanted to stay all night but Dad said I had school the next day, so we went home. You cried most of the way. You and Cynthia's Mum hugged each other and cried in the hospital, too. I thought you must have used up all your tears, but you had plenty left. I sat in the back seat and felt really annoyed with you and Dad. How come when I was sick, you never made such a fuss over me? Sure, I never had both my feet disappear, but what about that time when I had pneumonia? I was pretty sick then! All I got was a few days off school and a get-well card from Grandma. Pathetic!