You Only Live Once

Description

What if your time is almost due?

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"What do you think the results show?"

I raised an eyebrow at the doctor who had his lips pursed into a straight line, a virtually unreadable expression on his face. Now, I consider myself a master of reading people, but this nut was a toughie to crack. I eyed the report he was clasping in his hands. It looked thick, like as if the entire encyclopedia of medicine was summarised there. 

I thought he would do us both a favour and enlighten the ignorant me - I mean, he was the Informed One and I was the Ignorant One. But it seemed as if he was genuinely waiting for my answer, oddly enough, as if that would somehow change things. Or maybe he didn't have a clue whatsoever as to what I had. Well, then that makes two of us-

"Are you okay?"

The hardened face barely flinched as the words of seeming concern slipped out of his lips. He had mistaken my silence as brooding melancholy. I blinked in response and thought of why I had even visited the doctor in the first place- I usually hate to trouble myself but ah, now I remember - I had coughed up blood one day in school and my best friend Baekhyun had freaked out and dragged me here. In fact, he wanted to come with me to review the results but of course, why trouble him? It was probably some serious lung infection that had probably resolved. I blame the one drink too many at Chanyeol's party last week. I don't get drunk, so I tend to knock down way too many glasses. Especially when Baekhyun that child pours too much, way more than his kiddy self can handle- 

"Anyone else you want to be here with you?"

Oh, I was doing it again. I tend to think way too much into my head, so everyone thinks I'm quiet but I'm actually a roaring storm inside. 

I looked at the doctor properly. This seemed a bit too serious for my liking. "Do I have tuberculosis or something?" I blurted out and darted my eyes to the masks in the room. Probably need some sort of protective equipment. Wow, this doctor was noble indeed.

He clasped his hands together and his expression hardened a tad more. "I'm afraid it's more serious than a simple infection." He said gently, with much hesitation. "Well-"

I felt my breath catch. "Just tell me." I found myself demanding.

He pushed the report over to me.

My eyes scanned it faster than the words hit me. Histological report of bronchoalveolar lavage confirms small cell lung carcinoma.

"You have cancer, Abby. I'm sorry, Abby, dear." 

I gripped the report, re-reading and re-reading it. This has to be some sort of ing joke. Cancer!?

I didn't realise I had spoken out the words out loud because the doctor started patting my shoulder awkwardly and hastily taking out tissue paper from his pocket.

There is nothing poetic or romantic about cancer, because I'm not the ing protagonist of some love novel and I have nobody I am madly in love with and I am just an ordinary girl with an ordinary life.

And that is all going to change with a sentence. A life sentence.

 

Foreword

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