"Come back on Monday for the results," Doctor Zell told me as he put my blood and urine samples in place.
I forced a smile, and many things ran through my mind as I made my way out of the hospital. The thought of contracting brain cancer made me shudder. I was getting morbid. It was difficult for me to think of how to move on, but after a quiet day I figured out what I had to do within the next seven days.
Half of my week was spent with my many different groups of friends. They were an amazing bunch that consoled me. The next half was with my family. This group behaved better because they were as optimistic as I was, at least on the outside. I tried to be realistic about the fear that I was having and, moreover, I did not know if all my smiles and laughter worked.
Sunday night was interminably long. However, a part of me did not want to fall asleep, lest Monday came too quickly. I sat up on my bed and stared blankly at the clock before me. When a tear rolled down my cheek, my mother came into my room. I cried my heart out in her arms and she wept together with me. I started blaming doctors and scientists for not finding a cure for cancer.
My family did not go to work so that they could go with me to the hospital. I was freezing while waiting for my turn to see Doctor Zell, so was my brain. All the pep talk my parents had given me had disappeared. My turn came. I panicked and wanted somebody else to see Doctor Zell for me, but I did not do that. I walked slowly and steadily into his office. I felt anxious eyes on my back.
"I am so sorry," were the words I did not want to hear from Doctor Zell, but they came out anyway. Not surprisingly, I broke into tears right there and then. What a short life I was going to have! It was a teary day for me and my family, perhaps a few of my friends as well. I donated quite a generous sum of money to the cancer foundation and the rest of my savings, without a doubt, to my family.
