Processing the prognosis
As I took a deep breath and tried to process the reality of her limited time, the weight of Jenna’s prognosis weighed heavily on me. I felt a mixture of emotions – sadness, anger, helplessness. Jenna looked at me, her eyes characterized by resigned acceptance. “I’m sorry,” she said, grabbing my hand. I squeezed her hand gently, unable to find the right words. The silence between us was heavy with unspoken emotions.
Editing the forecast
Softening my tone
As I asked Jenna again what she needed me to do, my tone softened, and it was clear to see my voice change from anger to readiness. “Jenna, tell me what you need,” I said in a soft but firm voice. She looked at me, with a mix of relief and discontent. “I want you to take care of Emily,” she said, her voice breaking out. I was aware that her request was a turning point for both of us.
Softening my tone
