Rochelle.”
Four
D AWN stepped forward and examined the painted tree more closely. Several of the large green leaves were only outlines, as if waiting for names to be filled in. “I don’t understand,” she said.
“It’s a new program we’ve started,” Katie said eagerly, her blue eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “It’s a survivor support group, and it meets right inside this room.” She gestured toward a closed door beside the trunk of the tree. “All the members of the group have their names painted on the leaves to announce that they’re survivors. Think of it, Dawn. Before bone marrow transplants came into being, less than a third of all kids with leukemia were cured. Today, more than half can expect a normal life span. Kids with other kinds of cancers are living longer, too.”
“That’s great, but why have a support group? I mean, support groups are super when you’ve just been diagnosed. It really helps to be able to talk about treatments and feelings and stuff like that when it’s happening to you. But if you’re doing fine, why keep bringing it up?”
“Discussion groups are helpful no matter what the problem. And just because something’s over doesn’t mean it’s one hundred percent behind you. Don’t you ever wish that you could talk to someone who’s been through what you’ve been through?” Katie asked.
Dawn wasn’t sure how to answer. A part of her was curious about other cancer patients’ experiences. But a part of her was also glad that much of the ordeal was behind her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to dredge up the past and all its heart-rending memories of treatments and pain and uncertainty.
Then there was the heartache of losing her friends to cancer. She’d worked long and hard to get over the feelings of loss she had when Sandy died. Then the feelings had all rushed back when she’d watched helplessly as Marlee died. What good would it do to discuss it with a bunch of strangers?
“I’ve just started high school, and I’m pretty busy with my studies. I want to make good grades and be involved with school stuff. I’m not sure I’ll have time to come to some support group.” She stepped away from the mural of the tree.
“They only meet once a month. There are doctors and nurses who help guide the discussions and answer questions. A lot of kids your age attend. You might enjoy getting to know them.”
“I hardly have time to get to know the kids at my school,” Dawn said with a nervous laugh.
“You don’t have to come regularly unless you want to.” Katie put her hand on Dawn’s arm. “There’re a lot of things pent up inside you about your experiences. Things that need to be talked about.”
“But I feel fine,” Dawn protested, beginning to feel pressured. Why didn’t Katie drop it?
“Do you?”
Katie’s question added to Dawn’s discomfort. Of course, she did. Hadn’t she faced her reluctance to be involved with other patients that summer when she agreed to be a counselor at the cancer camp? It had been hard to go back and perform the same rituals she had during her very first summer. But she’d gone anyway, and she ended up actually having a good time.
“Look, Katie, I know you only want to help me, but right now I don’t want to do anything that isn’t connected with school. I want to have fun this year, you know, like a regular person.”
“I understand. But will you just think about it? Just give it some thought?”
Dawn couldn’t tell Katie no. She liked her too much. And she didn’t want to hurt her feelings. But she didn’t want to be forced into some cancer memory sessions either. “I’ll think about it.”
Katie smiled. “Good.” She tucked her arm around Dawn’s shoulders. “Now that that’s settled, we’d better get you home. I’m starved for some of your mom’s good cooking.”
Dawn sneaked one final peek at the mural, at the leaves decorated with various names, and wished that Sandy and Marlee’s names
Azure Boone, Kenra Daniels