Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 2627

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The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Part 2627
by Angharad

Copyright© 2015 Angharad

  
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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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I was sitting in the kitchen drinking tea when Phoebe came in and shut the door after her. “Hello, sweetheart, want some tea?”

“Please,” she sat opposite me while I got her a mug and poured in some tea and then some milk before passing it to her. “Thanks,” she said taking the mug.

“It’s not very often we have a chance to do this, is it?”

“Uh no,” she answered trying to look relaxed but was obviously rather tense.

“You going to tell me why you’re here besides having a cuppa?”

“I just came for a chat—honest—Mummy.”

“I didn’t come down in the last shower of rain, I know you’re holding back on something, which is entirely your prerogative, but I assume you’d like to share it with me or you wouldn’t be here now, would you?”

“I might just want to chat because we’re all so busy these days.”

“Don’t tell me you’re fascinated by the goings on in the dormouse breeding programme—because they’re all still hibernating—and given the forecast, part of me would like to join ’em.”

“I might be—can I hibernate with you?”

“Why—because it’s easier than facing up to problems?”

“Yeah, I s’pose.”

“They say a trouble shared is a trouble halved.”

“Is it true though?”

“I suspect it is because two heads are better than one when it comes to looking at solutions.”

She sat drinking her tea and thinking. Twice she seemed about to speak then changed her mind. Finally, she put her mug down and said, “Can the blue light cure cancer?” Then she burst into tears.

“Who’s got it?” I asked playing dumb.

“Me.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” I opened my arms and she came and sat on my lap, snuggling into me, tears dripping down her face.

“Can you cure me before it starts? I don’t want to die.”

“Hey, let’s keep this real shall we?”

She nodded wiping her nose then rested her head on my shoulder.

“How d’you know you have it?”

“I carry the gene.”

“How d’you know that?”

“I had a test done.”

“When was this?”

“About a month ago, my mum and one of her sisters had it and died from breast cancer.”

“You’ve had the result?”

“Yeah, I went and saw the clinic yesterday.”

“So that’s why you wanted me to adopt Lizzie?”

“Yeah, I don’t how much longer I’ll be here?”

I saw the figure ninety two appear in my mind’s eye. “Rather a long time yet, say another seventy or more years.”

“Thanks for trying to reassure me but I know I’m going to die.”

“We all are, sweetheart; it’s the only certainty in life—ironic or what?”

“Yeah, but I’m going to die before you, aren’t I?”

“I don’t think so, but it’s not just about longevity unless it comes with quality of life.”

“I know, Mummy.”

“Our lives are shortened by all sorts of things.”

“I know all of this.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, so how can I help you?”

“Make this cancer go away.”

“It isn’t a cancer yet, is it—just a potential to become one. I don’t think I can do very much until we know how and what is happening.”

“Great, so I’ve got to be terminal before it does anything. Thanks a bunch.”

“No, but how am I supposed to ask it to cure an illness that hasn’t started yet?”

“Tell it to change my DNA so I don’t get it.”

“Much as I’d love to report to you that I had done such a thing—I know in my heart of hearts that it doesn’t work like that.”

“So that’s it then—go away and die—just like that?”

“No it isn’t and you know that jolly well. I can’t change your DNA until you finish growing, and I don’t know if I can do it then—it is pretty radical.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s messing with nature.”

“But nature is messing with my life, Mummy. I don’t want to die of breast cancer.”

“You won’t.”

“I won’t?

“No.”

“How d’you know?”

“Because I do.”

“What will I die from, then?”

“Essentially, old age.”

“Yeah but how exactly?”

“I can’t tell you more than I have already.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not really.”

“Look, I can’t tell you the details because you could do something which influences a different outcome.”

“What?”

“Say, I told you you’d make a hundred and you took greater risks than you needed to because you thought you couldn’t die before then, you could end up having an accident because you thought you were invincible—and find out the hard way that you’re not.”

“I see.”

“I hope so.”

“So will I get breast cancer?”

“If you do it will be treated to prevent your demise.”

“Oh, so I won’t die from it then?”

“No,” this girl was just like half my students—doesn’t listen—then I suppose it is difficult stuff to deal with.

“So I don’t have to have my breasts off and lose my ovaries?”

“Not at the moment, no.”

“But I might have to later?”

“Phoebe, live for the present and stop worrying about what may or may not happen.”

“I will won’t I? I’m gonna lose my breasts, aren’t I?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re just saying that...you don’t want me to know, do you? Big power trip, is it?”

“Phoebe, you are going to live to a ripe old age—just accept that.”

“Will I have children?”

“That’s for you to decide, no one else.”

“But you can see the future—can’t you?”

“Not really. I wasn’t asking about the future other than were you at risk from breast cancer—the answer that came back was—not especially if you take precautions.”

“Like having my breasts off and my ovaries and womb out—I won’t be a woman then, will I?”

“Do you see me or Julie as women?”

“Of course I do.”

“We don’t have ovaries or wombs but we’re still women.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have ones to start with, so you’re used to the idea. I’m not.”

“Phoebe, listen to me—you’re going to be all right providing you don’t take unnecessary risks.”

“So I could still die with it?”

“Not if you don’t take unnecessary risks. It’s like you won’t get HIV if you don’t have unprotected sex.”

“Oh God, I’m not going to get that, am I?”

“No. I was simply using it as an example of all things being possible. Avoid the risks and you won’t.”

“I think I’m gonna stay a virgin, it’s safer.”

“Safer but not necessarily better.”

“Oh, Mummy, what shall I do?”

Oh boy, this is hard work. “Just get on with life and don’t take unnecessary risks.”

“But how?”

“Like you did before you thought of all this.”

“And I won’t get breast cancer?”

I didn’t say you wouldn’t get it rather that you won’t die from it. “The risks are greatly reduced if you don’t smoke and have regular breast exams.”

“Smoking causes lung cancer not breast cancer,” she said chuckling as if she’d caught me out.

“It increases the risk considerably, as well as that of cancers of the bladder and kidneys.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

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