"I'm so sorry Mr and Mrs Ghana. Lucy has 50 days to live from tomorrow. And there's nothing we can do. We can offer you support councelling. We can offer you some treatment but that'll only just extend that deadline. There is a treatment in America but it costs more than it's worth and only 3% accurate, we would only reccomend that in emergencies. If I can give some advice it would be that go home and act normal. For the comfort of that little girl, she needs everything to be normal, no crying or rushing. Nothing should be any different. Again I'm so sorry, if we could do something to save her, we would"
I leaned further towards the door, my heart racing. It was only repeating what I already knew but I wanted to hear my Mum and Dad's reactions. Nothing. Then I heard a little sob, then another, then a chair scraping against the floor. I rushed back to the seat I was meant to be waiting at, and sat there, leaning back against the cool, white walls of the hospital.
The door of 'Consultation Room 6' opened and Mum and Dad emerged. "I assure you she won't be in any pain, right up until her last d-" the doctor stopped when she saw me sitting there.
She was white, like albino white, with pale wispy blonde hair and grass green eyes too big for her face, right above her protruding cheek bones.
"Lucy..." She said, almost in an annoyed way but I s'pose they can't be annoyed with a dying girl. Dying girl. It sounds so awful.
"Doctor..." I said, repeating her tone to almost perfection. Mum laughed at the doctors annoyed expression and came to hug me.
"Ya still got it girl" she said inbetween laughing and crying. Of course I've still got it, I thought, it's not like I'm due to die in 5 days, I feel exactly the same as yesterday except now it's diagnosed. Which makes everything change.
I didn't say anything I just sat there. Dad thanked the doctor (for what? Diagnosing my death? Well that was nice, wasn't it? Why don't we all thank each other and pray to God to thank him the doctor's diagnosed my death?) and we all walked silently through the hospital, a little black girl walking along with her two coffee coloured beautiful parents.
I felt like everyone was staring. Like everyone knew. Like I had a sign on my head saying 'HA LOOK AT THIS LOSER! SHE'S GONNA DIE IN 50 DAYS TOMORROW! LOOK AT HER. MAKE SURE YOU BE NICE TO HER!" It was like everybody knew, all the doctors smiled at me but then I shook my head to clear away the thoughts.
I was being stupid, there were thousands of dying people in this hospital, why would they care about me?
As we drove home in silence I had a thought.
If God is real why is he doing this to me? Everything happens for a reason, right? So why's this happening?
That's when I came up with 'The Goals List'