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The Last Song - chapter 3
Chapter 3: The Diagnosis
Anna was waiting anxiously in the hospital lobby, holding the envelope that contained her test results. She had done a blood test, a throat swab, and a laryngoscopy, and the doctor had told her to come back the next day to get the report. She had spent a sleepless night, wondering what was wrong with her, and hoping it was nothing serious. She had told the tour manager that she had a personal matter to attend to, and that she would join the group later. She had not told anyone else, not even her parents or her friends. She didn’t want to worry them, and she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. She thought it was just a minor infection, and that she would be fine.
She opened the envelope and took out the paper. She scanned the words and numbers, looking for the diagnosis. She felt her heart sink as she read the sentence that changed her life forever.
Diagnosis: Laryngeal cancer, stage IV.
She felt a wave of shock and disbelief wash over her. She couldn’t believe what she was reading. She had cancer. She had cancer in her throat, the source of her voice, her gift, her passion. She had cancer that was advanced and aggressive, that had spread to other parts of her body. She had cancer that was incurable and terminal.
She felt tears sting her eyes and a lump form in her throat. She felt a surge of fear and anger, and a pang of sadness and regret. She felt a loss of hope and meaning, and a sense of betrayal and injustice. She felt like she was in a nightmare, and that she would wake up any moment.
She looked around the lobby, and saw people walking, talking, laughing, living. She felt like she was in a different world, a world where she didn’t belong, a world where she didn’t matter. She felt like she was alone, and that no one understood, no one cared, no one could help.
She felt a hand on her shoulder, and a voice in her ear.
“Hey, are you okay?”
She turned and saw a man standing next to her. He was tall and handsome, with brown hair and green eyes. He was wearing a leather jacket and jeans, and he had a camera hanging around his neck. He looked like a journalist, or a photographer, or both. He looked like a stranger, but he also looked like a friend.
He smiled at her, and she felt a flicker of warmth and curiosity in her chest. She wondered who he was, and what he wanted. She wondered why he was talking to her, and why he cared.
She wiped her tears and tried to smile back. She nodded and said, “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”
She lied. She was not fine. She was far from fine. She was dying.
To Be Continued....
© @Neongenesis
Anna was waiting anxiously in the hospital lobby, holding the envelope that contained her test results. She had done a blood test, a throat swab, and a laryngoscopy, and the doctor had told her to come back the next day to get the report. She had spent a sleepless night, wondering what was wrong with her, and hoping it was nothing serious. She had told the tour manager that she had a personal matter to attend to, and that she would join the group later. She had not told anyone else, not even her parents or her friends. She didn’t want to worry them, and she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. She thought it was just a minor infection, and that she would be fine.
She opened the envelope and took out the paper. She scanned the words and numbers, looking for the diagnosis. She felt her heart sink as she read the sentence that changed her life forever.
Diagnosis: Laryngeal cancer, stage IV.
She felt a wave of shock and disbelief wash over her. She couldn’t believe what she was reading. She had cancer. She had cancer in her throat, the source of her voice, her gift, her passion. She had cancer that was advanced and aggressive, that had spread to other parts of her body. She had cancer that was incurable and terminal.
She felt tears sting her eyes and a lump form in her throat. She felt a surge of fear and anger, and a pang of sadness and regret. She felt a loss of hope and meaning, and a sense of betrayal and injustice. She felt like she was in a nightmare, and that she would wake up any moment.
She looked around the lobby, and saw people walking, talking, laughing, living. She felt like she was in a different world, a world where she didn’t belong, a world where she didn’t matter. She felt like she was alone, and that no one understood, no one cared, no one could help.
She felt a hand on her shoulder, and a voice in her ear.
“Hey, are you okay?”
She turned and saw a man standing next to her. He was tall and handsome, with brown hair and green eyes. He was wearing a leather jacket and jeans, and he had a camera hanging around his neck. He looked like a journalist, or a photographer, or both. He looked like a stranger, but he also looked like a friend.
He smiled at her, and she felt a flicker of warmth and curiosity in her chest. She wondered who he was, and what he wanted. She wondered why he was talking to her, and why he cared.
She wiped her tears and tried to smile back. She nodded and said, “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”
She lied. She was not fine. She was far from fine. She was dying.
To Be Continued....
© @Neongenesis
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