Chapter 12: Sacked Out
{Jill's POV}
I want to talk to Randy, ever since we brought him início he's become almost reclusive. I need to talk to him to see what I can do to help him. Quietly peeking into Randy's bedroom and find him sacked out on his bed. He's laying on his stomach a school book out in front of him, and he's out cold. One arm dangles off the cama and I approach quietly. I pull the book away from him and close it, putting it on the nightstand. I take his arm gently in my hands and place it on the cama beside him. I mover to the end of the cama and pull his blanket up over him. He looks so young, sleeping there like that. I can't help brushing his hair away from his face. He doesn't even move. The expression dead to the world comes to mind, and I shudder at the thought. I stand there a few moments longer, just watching him. I finally manage to tear my eyes away from my sleeping son. He's never done anything to deserve this. I sigh and walk out hitting the light switch on my way. I pad quietly up stairs. Though Tim could have been up after a night of polish comida and I doubt Randy would have stirred. I enter the kitchen, head to the big French doors and walk out to talk to Wilson.
"Hey Wilson."
"Hiedy-ho neighborette."
"Can I talk to you?"
"Certainly. What can I do you for?"
"What do you know about chemotherapy?" He fixes a gaze on me. I know that look, its the oh boy a pergunta I don't wanna answer look.
"Randy has to start on it soon."
"Well Jill, to be honest with you, its not a pleasant experience."
"Will he be in pain?"
"He'll experience nausea, and lose his hair, and they're might be mornings when he'll be to ill to get out of bed."
"Answer my pergunta Wilson, please. Will he be in pain?"
"Jill, for what I've seen, chemotherapy does cause a moderate amount of pain."
"And he'll be sick, and lose his hair...." I trail off.
"Its better than losing his life Jill." Wilson's words are very gently spoken, and I feel tears come to my eyes.
"Its not fair Wilson." I slump down the fence a little, settling into the lawn chair. I can hear the shuffling of leaves, and suddenly Wilson is beside me. I draw my legs up a little and he sits on the end of the chair.
"Jill, it's going to be very hard for everyone concerned to see this. You in particular because you are his mother. You aren't going to be strong all the time, but you'll have to try."
"But I don't know how!" I cry, brushing my hand across my eyes and Wilson leans progressivo, para a frente and puts his hand gently on him arm.
"You'll learn." That's all he says and he stands up.
"Thanks Wilson." He nods, smiles at me gently, and moves back into his own yard.
"Feel free to come to me whenever you need to." He calls as he retreats.
"Thank you again." I reply as I walk back into the house. As I walk in, I see Randy's bedroom door open, and I plaster a smile on my face. "Hey there."
"Hey." He smiles somewhat tiredly at me. "Did you mover my history book?"
"Yeah, you were sleeping, so I moved it, hope you don't mind."
"No, I just thought I was losing it for a minute." Randy replies, stretching a little.
"Can we talk?" I ask and he seems to freeze momentarily before nodding his affirmative answer. I pull out some biscoitos, cookies and set them on the table.
"I'm not spilling my guts." He says as he sits. I laugh half heartedly, and sit across from him.
"Do you want to tell me if anything's bothering you?" He looks like a trapped animal for a segundo before plastering a clearly forced smile on his face.
"No, nothings bother me." I can't force him to talk to me. "I should get back to history." I hand him the plate of biscoitos, cookies and he quirks a half smile at me.
"Just don't spoil your dinner." And he walks away. Whatever is bothering him, he'll have to come to terms with and talk about in his own good time.
End of Ch12
{Jill's POV}
I want to talk to Randy, ever since we brought him início he's become almost reclusive. I need to talk to him to see what I can do to help him. Quietly peeking into Randy's bedroom and find him sacked out on his bed. He's laying on his stomach a school book out in front of him, and he's out cold. One arm dangles off the cama and I approach quietly. I pull the book away from him and close it, putting it on the nightstand. I take his arm gently in my hands and place it on the cama beside him. I mover to the end of the cama and pull his blanket up over him. He looks so young, sleeping there like that. I can't help brushing his hair away from his face. He doesn't even move. The expression dead to the world comes to mind, and I shudder at the thought. I stand there a few moments longer, just watching him. I finally manage to tear my eyes away from my sleeping son. He's never done anything to deserve this. I sigh and walk out hitting the light switch on my way. I pad quietly up stairs. Though Tim could have been up after a night of polish comida and I doubt Randy would have stirred. I enter the kitchen, head to the big French doors and walk out to talk to Wilson.
"Hey Wilson."
"Hiedy-ho neighborette."
"Can I talk to you?"
"Certainly. What can I do you for?"
"What do you know about chemotherapy?" He fixes a gaze on me. I know that look, its the oh boy a pergunta I don't wanna answer look.
"Randy has to start on it soon."
"Well Jill, to be honest with you, its not a pleasant experience."
"Will he be in pain?"
"He'll experience nausea, and lose his hair, and they're might be mornings when he'll be to ill to get out of bed."
"Answer my pergunta Wilson, please. Will he be in pain?"
"Jill, for what I've seen, chemotherapy does cause a moderate amount of pain."
"And he'll be sick, and lose his hair...." I trail off.
"Its better than losing his life Jill." Wilson's words are very gently spoken, and I feel tears come to my eyes.
"Its not fair Wilson." I slump down the fence a little, settling into the lawn chair. I can hear the shuffling of leaves, and suddenly Wilson is beside me. I draw my legs up a little and he sits on the end of the chair.
"Jill, it's going to be very hard for everyone concerned to see this. You in particular because you are his mother. You aren't going to be strong all the time, but you'll have to try."
"But I don't know how!" I cry, brushing my hand across my eyes and Wilson leans progressivo, para a frente and puts his hand gently on him arm.
"You'll learn." That's all he says and he stands up.
"Thanks Wilson." He nods, smiles at me gently, and moves back into his own yard.
"Feel free to come to me whenever you need to." He calls as he retreats.
"Thank you again." I reply as I walk back into the house. As I walk in, I see Randy's bedroom door open, and I plaster a smile on my face. "Hey there."
"Hey." He smiles somewhat tiredly at me. "Did you mover my history book?"
"Yeah, you were sleeping, so I moved it, hope you don't mind."
"No, I just thought I was losing it for a minute." Randy replies, stretching a little.
"Can we talk?" I ask and he seems to freeze momentarily before nodding his affirmative answer. I pull out some biscoitos, cookies and set them on the table.
"I'm not spilling my guts." He says as he sits. I laugh half heartedly, and sit across from him.
"Do you want to tell me if anything's bothering you?" He looks like a trapped animal for a segundo before plastering a clearly forced smile on his face.
"No, nothings bother me." I can't force him to talk to me. "I should get back to history." I hand him the plate of biscoitos, cookies and he quirks a half smile at me.
"Just don't spoil your dinner." And he walks away. Whatever is bothering him, he'll have to come to terms with and talk about in his own good time.
End of Ch12